A young girl: [Your son] says you’re a fighter. Me: Heavens! Now, do I look like a fighter, little miss? Her: (laughs) Noooo! Me: Well, there you go. I’m just a lawyer. And his dad. Son: (afterward, annoyed) Why didn’t you say you’re a fighter?! Me: Because I’m not, I’m someone that can fight but I’m not a fighter. There’s a difference. Him: Papa! Me: (shrugging) Besides, no one needs to know what we do in our private lives, kid. I want you to learn something here: People don’t look like they really are inside. Our insides don’t often match our outsides, for better for worse. The less people know about what you can do, the better. Him: Then why do you spend so much time [learning how to fight]? Me: Because…sometimes you have to show people what you can do.
This girl named Betty was running to catch a train about a 100 years ago when her science teacher saw her.
The science teacher was also the running coach of the school and never saw anyone run that fast – and he was the coach!
So, he convinced her to run for him and soon, she found herself in the 1928 Olympics at just 16 years old, breaking a whole buncha records.
Almost 100 years later, she remains the youngest athlete to win an Olympic 100-meter gold.
That’s not the most remarkable thing about her, though.
Just three years later, in 1931, she was in a plane crash where she was so messed up that they were sure she was dead. They didn’t send her to the hospital, they sent her to the morgue.
Luckily the undertaker realized she was alive and she, somehow, survived.
Unfortunately, the doctors said she’d never walk again, let alone race again. She spent six months in a wheelchair and didn’t walk normally for two whole years.
But she somehow did walk again and then run again – and she actually ran in the 1946 summer Olympics against the heavily-favoured Germans in the relay race.
The kicker is that she beat them.
Not my pic, obvs. Click here for more info. Man, look how happy this kid is.
The thing is, if you pull up a picture of Betty Robinson, she just looks like any other chick from that time.
You’d never know she was a beast in her lane.
I’ve met so many people in my half-century here. But the ones I always value the most, are the ones with their secret lives that no one would ever suspect.
I’ve met beasts that you wouldn’t believe.
Suppose I hope this for my son, for him to have secrets that keep him safe and happy until and unless he has to show the world what he can do.
Son: So, you do fight, right, papa? Me: Not if I can help it, kid. Remember that, too.
Speaking of meeting up with people, I met up with the Firecracker for drinks the other day at a place that a buddy from my gym told me he loves that’s all decked out as if it were still the Victorian age.
Super cool and ornate, plus it’s right around the gym.
I’d been walking past it for months without realizing what was inside.
Just like with people, the City has alla these hidden secrets that I like finding out about.
Then again, I usually tell you about them when I find about them, so we can share the secret, yeah?
One thing that I’m learning as a parent is that summer stuff needs to be planned super early.
I’ve already got a surprise trip planned for the kid as well as a few weeks of things here and there but trying to fill up an entire summer is daunting, lemme tell ya.
Hopefully, we’ll have some stories to tell you after the summer’s over.
Boy: Will you come to Germany with me? Me: Sure! I love Germany. That sounds like fun.
Met up with the Firecracker and her sister the other day for an early dinner.
Conveniently, her sister also lives in the Upper Best Side, so that made things easy and we just met up at a local bar around us.
I’ve been really into fish and chips lately, plus this place had sweet potato fries, so that made things even better.
She just had a burger, which I always approve of.
Her: Look, they branded the burger with their initials! Me: Ooooh, fancy!
Her sister speaks Japanese, which was pretty cool.
I’d just bought a new camera (I’ll tell you about that later) and she was actually looking at the one I was seriously considering before I ended up choosing something else entirely.
In any case, my brother, sister, and I, plus my cousins were all talking about a summer 2024 trip back to Taiwan and I asked them if they would be interested in coming along as well.
Firecracker: That sounds like fun! Sister: I’ve never been but it’s on my list of places to visit. Me: Sweet, we’ll plan something out.
It feels weird planning things for the future with the kid. Weirder with the Firecracker.
There’s something inherently hopeful about planning for the future.
The last decade has seriously fucked with my head when it comes to being hopeful.
Even before everything went to shit, I was always cautious about being too hopeful about anything.
After all, the more you hope for things, the harder you crash if they fall apart.
Then again, what is life if not somewhat hopeful?
Her: The kids are away that week, do you want to go somewhere? Me: (long pause) Sure. That sounds like fun.
Holy cow, one of my videos has 10 MILLON views on it.
It’s yet another thing that’s kinda hard for me to wrap my head around.
2023 - This is me on Saturday during our shoot, two days before I'm 50.
Just the particulars
Me: What if one day you get new glasses and realize how old I am? Firecracker: I don’t think so. Maybe I’m just more into antiques than I thought I was.
1973 – 0 Years old
4. You can reinvent yourself again and again
F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote Alison’s favorite book, The Great Gatsby; I loved that girl as much as I hated that book.
When I was in college, I spoke four languages and was certain that I’d end up working for the Foreign Service.
Then I changed my mind and wanted to be a writer – ended up writing for several national publications including one of the first major articles on Windows NT versus Novell for Computer Shopper, and some travel articles for the New York Sun.
While doing this, I worked in the club industry and made a name for myself, which a few people still recognize me for.
1983 – 10 Years Old (and starting to get fat, hoo-boy, did I get even bigger)
Then I decided I wanted to build networks and ended up building a 100-seat computer network for a Fortune 600 company on Madison Avenue.
Then I went to law school to become a lawyer. Then I went to CNET and became their first International Sale Manager. Then I went back to being a lawyer.
Then I bought my building with some friends and became a building manager.
Then I got another degree and became one of only 350 people in the New York State with that degree while still working on my legal career. Somehow found myself lecturing on the law all over including Europe and New York. Even won an award.
I also started teaching kali on the sly just a block from my pad and started up a private jet company.
After Alison got sick, I gave up everything and became a cancer researcher, a caretaker, and then a father.
Somehow, in my late 40s, I also became a YouTuber and a gym owner.
Look, my point is that Fitzgerald was fulla shit.
You can be anything you want to be. You get to decide and no one else does.
I decided at 14 that I didn’t wanna be fat so I stopped being fat. It was as simple and as difficult as that.
Few things in life are actually difficult; the most difficult thing you’ll ever do is to decide to do something.
Everything else after that decision are just the particulars.
1993 – 20 Years old – My brother edited out the people next to me in this pic – in fact, he did all these pics. He’s crazy talented, that boy.
This is dangerous – I speak from both personal experience and as a new father.
My greatest fear is that kid’ll meet some knuckleheads that get him into trouble.
Look, you choose your friends because they mirror some quality you have or desire. I don’t have any close friends that are, say, massive gamblers, because I’m not a massive gambler.
You don’t get to chose your family but you do get to choose your tribe. So, if the people that you hang out with are a buncha people that cheat on their partners alla time, you’re gonna become someone that chats on your partner.
If you’re the most successful person in your group, this is probably a bad thing, too. You need a better group.
This is one major reason why I didn’t want to continue some romantic relationships I was involved in; because, while they were usually fine, their friends weren’t the type of friends I wanted in my life.
Or my kid’s life.
Him: (a long time ago) I heard you two broke up, I’m sorry. Me: It’s fine. There’s no tragedy that doesn’t have some positive bonus and the bonus here is that I literally never have to pretend to enjoy hanging out with her lame friends again.
This is why I’ve cut so many people outta my life – because I want to be around people that point me in the direction I want to go.
Speaking of bonuses, here’s a bonus tip.
2003 – 30 years old
Bonus: Sometimes, Logan, you gotta say, “Fuck it, I’m out.”
If you are the average of the five people you hang out with the most, then I’m grateful that Bryson’s one of my oldest and dearest friends – for a whole host of reasons.
He’s dangerous; he boxed with Dolph Lundgren, is a brown belt in BJJ under Fabio Clemete, is a black belt in shorin ryu karate, and is also a skilled Japanese fencer.
But, he’s also a great father and cook, married to a beautiful doctor, and helped build a buncha businesses that you’ve probably visited.
Most importantly, though, he’s a great human being. He’s the kinda guy I wanna be, so I try to hang out with him whenever I can.
Years ago, I visited him and his then girlfriend (now wife) out in San Francisco and I was probably depressed when I met them.
I was struggling with whether or not to quit my job and also leave the girl I was seeing.
For the former, it was a great job but I wasn’t sure I wanted to continue being involved with it. The latter? Well, kinda the same thing.
I had all the mixed feelings of duty, loyalty, guilt, etc.
Him, his wife, their roomie, and I, somehow ended up on a boat in the middle of a lake where we got into a water gun fight with some group of people on another boat.
I got onto that boat confused and depressed and left it feeling..pretty good.
And it was because I started telling him alla these issues I had with the girl and that job and he listened, politely, and then simply said, Sometimes, Logan, you gotta say, “Fuck it.”
I added on the “I’m out” over the years.
The number of times I’ve said, Fuck it, I’m out, since that day has gotta be at least in the hundreds, if not thousands.
It’s an incredibly powerful statement and one that you can whip out at any time, in any situation.
Bad job? Bad relationship? Bad habits?
Fuck it, I’m out, is a perfect answer that leads directly to Tip 4, which is reinventing yourself.
But be careful, because it is so powerful. Use it with caution.
2013 – 40 years old
Once told you about this snippet of a Batman cartoon I watched when I was younger.
In it, a villain was trying to convince Bruce Wayne that Bruce was mad but Bruce/Batman fought back and won.
When his friend asked Bruce why he was so sure that he (Bruce) wasn’t crazy, he answered simply that the voices called him “Bruce.”
But that’s not what he called himself.
I’ve been many things I’ve been proud of. I think that, by the time you read this, Scenic Fights will either be at exactly 400,000 subscribers or close to it.
And I’ve got some big things happening in my life that I may or may not tell you about in the future.
But none of that matters, really. In my head, I’m the kid’s father. Full-stop.
If that ends up being the only thing that I’m known for, I’m ok with that.
Substitute teacher: And you are? Me: (pointing at the kid) His father. Her: (brightly) Oh! He’s a wonderful child! When I said that I was a substitute, he came up to me afterward and said that if I forgot anyone’s name, to ask him because he would tell me. He was my helper all day. Me: (laughing) That’s awesome. Her: He’s awesome! Me: You’re not wrong, lady. You’re not wrong. (sighing) He takes after his mom. Her: You two are lucky. Me: (nodding) Yeah. Lucky us.
I’ve been alive for exactly 18,250 days.
I’ve only got 8,250 days left, if I’m…lucky.
Hopefully, I’ll keep writing and you’ll keep reading, yeah?
2023 – This is me on Saturday during our shoot, two days before I’m 50.
That’s a joke, of course. But I did just turn 50 this past week, so it’s not quite as funny as it’s been in the past.
The pic above is of me when I was a few days old.
Man, it’s a kick in the head to get my mind around that I was once that infant in the picture above some 50 years ago.
Realize that I probably don’t look 50 to you, which is fine because I don’t look 50 to me.
In fact, when I think of 50, I think of Molly Shannon’s Sally O’Malley (who’s actually 58 in the clip below):
It’s funny because a lotta my friends tell me that they use me as an example of what 50 might be like for them.
This is my friend Hawk, who – like a lotta my friends – only texts me on my bday, but that’s fine, I’m always thrilled to hear from them.
Spent a lotta time wondering what I would write about to commemorate this momentous occasion and the best thing I could come up with was the five concepts that changed my life the most.
1. Invest in the S&P 500
One of my summer jobs in college was helping two accountants do paperwork for a company called Ziff-Davis, where I ended up working at after college. They asked me to come in on the weekend and said they’d buy lunch. As a poor college kid, that was enough, so I did.
While I was there, we got to talking about investing and they told me to just dump every spare cent I ever made into the S&P 500.
Basically, “S&P” is “Standard and Poor,” think of them like the New York Times, except they only report about companies. And one thing they do is list the 500 biggest companies – in terms of how much they’re worth –Â at any given time.
When, say, Company 498 becomes Company 502, it’s kicked out, and some other company becomes 498.
A fella named John Bogle figured out that if you invested money evenly into each of the 500 companies, you’d end up making about 11.8% annually.
If you invested $1,000 a year for 50 years, you woulda “spent” $50,000 but you would end up with $2,505,311.97, or $2,455,311.97 profit.
There are hundreds of funds that track the S&P 500 for little or no money.Â
Started doing that 30 years ago, when I was 20. My life woulda been radically different if I never took that weekend gig.Â
Think they got me turkey club both days.
In any case, you should probably start investing ASAP, if you haven’t done it yet.
2. Do pushups – or something – every morning
I was a pretty fat kid from 10 to 14 – when I was 14, I was 5 foot 3 inches and 185 pounds with a 44-inch waist.
I went on a fast for four months – legit stopped eating, cold – and dropped down to 120 pounds and a 28-inch waist.
I’m now 50 years old with a 28-inch waist.
It all started when I stopped eating completely to reset my brain and started working out. When I first did it, I could barely do two pushups.
By the time I was 18, I was doing 100 pushups without issue. I just banged out 79 pushups in 60 seconds a few weeks ago.
Look, I don’t really do pushups anymore because I kept needing more. I’m in the gym like 10 hours a week these days.
You don’t gotta do pushups, you can do situps, you can run, you can walk for 30 minutes. Whatever.
But you gotta do something.
Otherwise, you’ll definitely look your age.
3. Learn to cook and stop eating stuff made by machines
OK, I admit that I eat quite a lotta things made by machines, like protein bars and stuff.
But I make sure that at least three out of every four meals I eat, I’ve made most of it myself.
This way, you know what you’re putting into your body.
As an aside, the bulk of my diet is beans and nuts, mainly peanut butter, honestly.
I found out that they sold five-pound jars of peanut butter but I’m more than half-way though one jar and it’s only been less than two weeks.
So, I bought another jar.
But that’s really neither here nor there…
I still have two more things to tell you, but I’ll do that tomorrow because it’s getting late and I don’t wanna mess up my sleep schedule any more than it already is.
And because it’s never too late to be better.
I’m trying to be better, even now.
We should all try to be better than we were yesterday.
The last few people I’ve dated, including the Firecracker, have been on the shorter side, which I find amusing.
Me: Man, you’re tiny. You’re like half a person. Her: No, I’m not! I’m a whole person – I have all the parts.
I have most of my parts, but I’ve been worried about how some of them have been functioning lately – mainly my eyes.
My eyesight has been getting progressively worse since I got kicked in the head the night I covered class.
Rang up the doc that I saw a few weeks back and he told me to stop by his office again this past weekend.
One thing that I really like about him is that he runs a tight ship. Within 30 minutes of my arriving he, was already wrapping up the visit.
Him: Everything looks good, your retina is solid, and you just have a touch of cataracts. Me: So why does everything look blurry? Him: Ah, well, you’re developing monovision. That’s when one eye sees distance and one eye sees up close. Your right eye is now essentially for reading while your left eye is for seeing things far away. Me: Whoa, that’s wild. Because I got kicked in the head? Him: (nodding) But it doesn’t have to be a bad thing. Most people have to have surgery to get that, but you now have it naturally. I have it naturally myself and it’s why I don’t need glasses.
All-in-all, it was a relief.
It’s still weird to walk around and have things so blurry alla time. But he says that I have to practice looking at things far away with my right eye and reading with my left eye.
How hard can that be?
One thing that I found interesting was that, when I first met the doctor, I barely knew the Firecracker.
Now, I’d spent the last two months seeing/chatting with her on the regular.
Funny how life works.
Location: a small room, watching her eat an apple pie in her bed
Mood: wondering if I should eat an apple pie in my bed
Music: I’ve lost more than a heart could take (Spotify) Subscribe! Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
Me: Look, we just have to make this work for… Simultaneously: 40 years Her: Jinx! You owe me a coke. Me: What? That’s not a thing. Her: Yes, it is grandpa…
The Firecracker likes to poke fun at our age difference but I don’t really mind at all.
See, I wear it like a badge of honor.
Cause the ability to get old is a privilege. Not everyone gets that chance so I’m grateful to get to be an old man.
I think our lives go through a series of thematic changes.
Back when I was young and stupid in my early thirties, I thought that my debilitating insomnia and my breakup with the Reporter was the worst thing that coulda happened to me.
Looking back, I’m shocked how naïve I was.
During that time, my life was a dramady – some comedy mixed with some minor drama.
Speaking of Colin Hay, when I met Alison, I think that my life was still a dramady but definitely more drama than comedy, as we felt the weight of life as a young married couple.
We had our ups-and-downs but we were just trying to figure out how to have a life together. With a fatty of our own, somehow.
Always felt that, once we got the kid, our real lives would begin, that any minute now, our ship would come in.
But it never did.
It never occurred to me that I was living my real life until it was too late.
During Alison’s sickness, Lorde was huge because it was the only album I had on my phone and I was so busy trying to save her and our life that I didn’t have time to change it.
Still never listen to Lorde because it brings back such vivid memories.
Think I would throw up if I heard Pure Heroine again.
Jesus, I musta heard that album easily 200 times during the first four months.
I was so busy that I literally didn’t have a moment to download any new songs and it was waaaaay before Spotify.
Anywho, in the song, Buzzcut Season, there’s a line that goes, “It kissed your scalp and caressed your brain.”
Remember hearing that line and thinking that, even with Alison bald and stick thin, I still thought she was beautiful and I was so lucky to have met her.
Some days I’m built of metal, I can’t be broken But not when I’m with you You love me real, we have it all Can’t leave me now I love the way, you are today Run away with me now
Kept hoping it was all a bad dream, I’d wake up, and she I could run away somewhere with the boy and live the life we were supposed to live.
The years afterward were gutting for so many reasons that I’ll just keep my theme song during that time to myself, if you don’t mind.
But right now, at this moment, honestly don’t know if my life’s gonna be a dramady again, another tragedy, or something altogether new.
There’s a song by a fella named Mike Blume, who released his latest song under the name Whatever Mike for some reason, called In-Between.
The chorus goes:
I’m inbetween Right here where I want it Right here where I want it I′m inbetween
Dunno if the rest of the song is really super appropriate to my life right now but those few lines perfectly encapsulate how I look at my life right now.
I’m in-between alla these memories and hopes, life and death, happiness and sadness.
All of it. I’m in between all of it.
Somehow, it’s ok because it’s better to be in-between than toward the end. Nowadays, at least.
Nothing is as I wanted it to be, but I’m happy where I am right now.
Which makes me anxious because happiness is so rare for me. Then again, what is life, if not a tragedy fulla joy?
I think our theme songs changes with the years, so I suppose we’ll revisit this topic again from time-to-time.
What about you?
What’s your theme song?
Me: Why do you hurt me? Her: (laughing) If I don’t have old jokes, I have nothing here, Logan. Nothing!
Location: this afternoon, walking in the sun with Firecracker down Broadway
Mood: introspective
Music: I’m between, right here where I want it (Spotify) Subscribe! Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
Forgot to mention that, while I was at my in-laws last week, we got onto the topic of how many pushups I could do in one minute.
I’d never tried to figure it out before so I cranked out about 60 in 45 seconds, but those last 15 seconds were agonizing. Agonizing.
I could only get out 19 more; try as I might, I could NOT get to 80 before my muscles gave out.
Which they did and I collapsed onto the floor. My son – god love him – was disappointed:
Him: For god’s sake, get up! Me: (breathing heavily) Everyone’s a critic…
That’s my boy, folks.
During one of our late-night outings with copious amounts of legal pharmaceuticals, the Firecracker and I started playing a game of “Never have I ever.”
Gotta say, dating someone from the south is entertaining on so many levels.
Her: You’ve never been to a field party? Me: I don’t even know what that is. Her: It’s a party. In a field. With a bonfire. Me: I figured out the first part on my own. Her: My favorite one was on Moo Cow Lane. Me: That’s not a real place. Her: (laughing) Yes, it is!
So many levels.
On a different, but related, note. There are also lots of unexpected perks to dating another parent.
For example, she and her son came by the other day for a playdate. They’re close in age so they get along well.
Unfortunately, in the middle of it, my kid tapped me on the shoulder and said that he didn’t feel well. I figured he was just tired but then he said he had a sore throat so I gave him some Tylenol.
Her: Take his temperature. Me: Not a bad idea, ok, hold on. (later) Shoot. 103. Her: OK, we should go.
It was impressive, I gotta say, how her maternal instincts kicked in.
Tthought about that woman I briefly dated that said that she didn’t mind that I had a kid.
That woman and I got along great for the few times we saw each other but once she said that, I lost all interest.
Chatted with a buddy about it a few days after I ended it.
Him: Your kid’s so great, I’m sure she woulda come around. Me: (shaking head) I couldn’t take that chance. My kid’s made of awesome; anyone who wouldn’t want someone like him in her life, I wouldn’t want in mine. Him: (shrugging) Well, hopefully you’ll meet someone you like. Me: I will. We all find the things we look for, good or bad, one way or another.
After the night out with the Firecracker and her friend, neither of us could make it to the Frenchman’s karaoke thingy the next day.
Me: (next morning) I think I’m still drunk. Her: I need a Tylenol. Me: Why are we even awake?!
But we were scheduled to meet up with her sister and her sister’s fella, both of whom lived across the street from her.
We ended up meeting up at a bar for an afternoon drink, not too far from the tiki bar we were the night before.
The Firecracker and I each got a rum and diet coke – plus wings for me – while they got beers and a huge pretzel for their kid, which made me think of Germany.
Her sister and fella were super cool and grabbed the bill, which was super nice of them.
Afterward, I was hungry for more wings, so we spent a solid 45 minutes walking around the hood looking for more wings, which I ultimately found.
A young couple were arguing – well, the fella was being yelled at by his girl – and the girl asked me what I thought.
Her: (turning to me) What do you think?! Am I right or is he? Me: I’m just trying to get some wings here, lady… Her: No, no, no, is he right or am I? Me: (shaking head) I can’t say. I can say that communication isn’t what you’re saying but what he’s hearing. And he – and everyone else here – is just hearing you yell at him, kid.
There’s a lot more to this story but I’ll end it here.
The next day, I went out to NJ to get the boy from my in-laws.
MIL: We’re having pasta, salad, and garlic bread. Me: I’m not saying no to any of that.
He went out with his guitar to practice and bringing it back was a bit of a pain, but worth it because he had plenty of time to practice.
As you might imagine, the Firecracker and I chat quite a bit now.
I find it odd because the weird commonality of the women I met after Alison have all had very sad stories to tell.
Wonder if it’s something about me that either attracts people with sad stories or perhaps they feel safe because I have my own – obscenely – sad stories.
Perhaps it’s a bit of both.
Me: I’m sorry. Her: Nothing to be sorry about. I’m better off now. Me: (shaking head) I’m sorry the world hurt you so badly, Firecracker. Her: (nodding) I’m sorry the world hurt you so badly, Lo. Me: Yeah…
Of course, I found myself in front of Alison’s apartment.
Remembered when I first visited there and the day we moved her stuff out. It seems like both yesterday and a lifetime ago.
Wanted to ring the bell because there was a tiny (crazy) part of me that hoped maybe she’d answer. But the saner bits of my brain won out.
Barely.
Probably for the best, otherwise, I’da been arrested.
As for the girl, we met up at a restaurant I’d never been to.
It was a nice night. She was easy on the eyes, which helped.
Her: I wore this for you. Me: Trust me when I tell you that I appreciate it.
We ended up hanging out and chatting for about five hours and hit up a few different places before she gave me a lift in her whip.
It was after midnight when I finally went to bed.
To be honest, it was a really fun and interesting night. But, like the narrator says in Fight Club, these are all single-serving friends; her for me and me for her.
It was a one-and-done, like most of these nights go.
Lviv dropped me a line the other day as well to wish me a Happy New Year.
She and her fella moved outta state and they seem to be doing well. I wonder if things would be different if we met now instead of then.
It’s strange, you never can tell who stays in your Venn Diagram and who leaves.
Her: I’m sure something good is coming your way 🙂 Me: Thanks, Lviv! Here’s hoping…
Here’s hoping.
Location: earlier tonight, on West 94th Street, playing Taboo
Mood: hoping
Music: I been looking for a new ride (Spotify) Subscribe! Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
Me: I have to be careful with what I say and do around him. Him: Of course, you’re his father. Me: (shaking head) More than that. He’s a little kid. I’m god to him. I provide him love, a home, food, everything he knows about the world. I’m his god and I have to be careful because of it. All parents are god to little boys and girls.
Before Alison got sick and died, I went to church most Sundays. I believed in God and Christianity, most likely because my mom did. If she was Muslim, I’m sure I woulda believed in Allah. But that’s how it goes.
Then Alison started losing babies and I quietly clung on to the hope that there was a merciful god and he would show her/us some mercy. And then she got sick and died in May of 2017.
Exactly 90 days later, my father died in August of 2017.
This whole time, another relative of mine was sick that I never mentioned because I was asked not to mention it.
There’s so much I tell you about; imagine if you knew alla the things I don’t tell you about. But we all have our three lives: Public, private, and secret.
All three losses were devastating to me. Imagine if your spouse, father, and close cousin all died within a few weeks of each other, how would you fare?
In all of this, I also lost my career that I spent 20 years building. An entire portfolio of clients gone – poof. Because I didn’t give a shit about it anymore.
Me: (to a different woman) What happened to your last fella? Her: (shrugging) His family wanted a nice Catholic girl and I’m … definitely not that. What are you? Me: Oh, I’m a devout atheist. If there is god, he can go fuck himself.
In the New Testament, when Jesus is on the cross, he cries out, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” He’s in pain, dying on some wood, and his father is nowhere to be seen or heard. And that’s when the son just gives up.
He says, “I’m thirsty. I’m done. Take it.” And he dies.
Because imagine if you’re dying and your dad knows this and you call him.
He picks up and says, “I know you’re dying, I know you’re in pain, but it doesn’t matter, I’ll never speak to you again, you’ll never see me again.” And then silence. Pure silence.
Now that’s pain. I’d give up too.
But that’s what happened to me. Times four.
Now, this fella named William Makepeace Thackeray once said, Mother is the name for God on the lips and hearts of all children.
But the kid never knew her. So that leaves me and me alone.
Still, with all due respect to Mr. Thackeray, my dad was my god as a little boy because I think it’s fairer to say that parents are gods to their little children. He and my mom were mine.
As an adult, my god was the god of my church and Alison – there was no sin I would not commit to keep her alive.
My minor god, but something I worshipped nonetheless, was my career. I think most people, if they were honest, would say that the thing that bring them income and security, they worship, to some degree.
But in 2017, I was hollowed out because I lost all my gods – everything I ever fucking believed in – all between the months of May and August. Alison, my dad, my religion, my job.
Poof. Gone.
And I filled those gaping holes with rage, women, and varying forms of pharmaceuticals. Not a single woman from that period speaks to me.
Because I was just rage and sadness and they were all unfortunate enough to be swept up in it all, hoping that I could possibly be normal.
I’m just starting to feel normal now, five years after the fact.
My buddy Jaerik commented in 2007 that I was never angry. Cause I always felt anger was the most useless of all emotions and I was pretty anti-emotion as a whole.
During NYE, one of the sisters remarked that there must be some part of me that believes in the Christian god somewhere and that’s when I realized why I was so fucked up for so long. Because this whole time, I thought I was grieving the loss of my wife and my dad, and – to lesser extent – the death of my old life and career.
That’s when I realized that I lost my religion as well.
Man, I lost all my gods at once. Losing one would be enough to drive anyone starkers. I lost everything that I felt made me…me.
To answer my friend’s question: The god I knew and believed in is as dead and gone as Alison and my dad is. The only thing with any spark of life is my career and even that takes a massive backseat to raising the kid.
Somehow, realizing that that night was the missing piece in my head and I felt my head quiet in ways I’ve not felt in over a dozen years – not since at least November of 2011.
Glad they asked me out for a drink, I gotta say…
And that’s why I decided to upgrade my OS. Or rather, replace it altogether.
It was originally built on ideas, people, and things that no longer exist, save for things about Schopenhauer that I still believe to be true.
But I’m tired of the anger and the rage. I miss being the quiet grey man no one knew could fight or knew experienced the devastating losses I did.
Then again, I wish alotta fucking things and I’m tired of wishing for shit that’ll never happen, people I’ll never see again, gods that never existed.
I just want things quiet again. In my head. In my life. I want it quiet, peaceful, and calm.
I think I’m at like 5% now in the upgrade process.
Him: Papa, I got a golf game. Do you want to play golf with me? Me: I’ve never played…sure, kid. Lemme finish this email while you set it up, ok? Him: OK! There’s a blue ball, a yellow ball, a green ball, and a red ball. Pick two. Me: Red and yellow? (thinking) No, wait. Blue and green, please. Him: OK, I’ll be red and yellow. I’ll get it ready. Hurry up with your email and let’s play! Me: You got it, kid. I’ll be right out.
