Tag: New York City

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personal

2022: Whacha know about rollin’?

Some rando videos of 2022

Her: So, what’s your typical day like?
Me: Well, there’s a lotta singing.

Like I said, I’m really behind in what I wanted to tell you but I’m also behind in putting up videos.

See, through the course of my day, I record rando things that I find interesting, thinking that I’ll show you them.

But, by the time I get around to remembering that I have them and take them off my phone to upload here, the moment has long past.

Ergo, I though I’d end out this year a bit differently by posting somea these rando videos for you to see, if you’re so inclined, in no particular order.

The first is a glimpse as to what my day is typically like.

The kid likes to practice his ukulele on my bed while singing me something.

This is his rendition of Masked Wolf’s Astronaut in the Ocean – no idea where he first heard this song.

I feel compelled to tell you that he’s six in this video, which I cannot express how proud of him I am.

Speaking of my son, he’s been taking swimming classes all year, hopefully to avoid something like what happened over the summer.

But I figure that you don’t wanna just see grainy vids of my kid.

The other big part of my life is the gym, so heading there, I see some pretty interesting things, I gotta say.

Here’s a quick sampling of a busker in Times Square, albeit from last May.

Actually, there are quite a number of buskers all over the city.

These are some at Union Square in September, just a couple of blocks from Paxibellum.

As for non-musical things, there was also the time that I left the gym and caught this sight; it doesn’t look like much but what’s happening is that water is coming out of an upper floor window onto the streets below.

This means that either a pipe broke or someone left their water on in their apartment, filling that apartment with water so high that it went over the window and onto the floor below.

I’m gonna guess that the lower floor apartments and businesses were not happy that day. You can hear sirens going off in the distance

There are a ton more videos but I figure I’d just toss these up.

Now, I was torn with ending this entry with either this symbolic store display in the UWS which – if it’s 3AM and you’re two sheets to the wind – is goddamn fascinating…

…OR posting this of my son at B&H Photo, where I went to get a small server for my apartment after the last major hack.

He was enthralled by the very modern-yet-old-timey interior conveyer belt system.

Here’s hoping that 2023 is better than the past few years.

Him: What will you do for New Year’s?
Me: I’ll dream of my family.
Him: That’s boring!
Me: (laughing) Not to me, kid. Not to me.

Location: my apartment, wondering what I should do tonight
Mood: cautiously optimistic (?)
Music: See, that pain was all around (Spotify)
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The new office

A holiday dinner

Went out to eat with my office the other night over at Benjamin Steakhouse again.

They just moved offices so it was the first time seeing the new space.

The building it’s in is actually connected to Grand Central itself so I literally didn’t even leave the station to get to the office.

Which is probably for the best because winter’s here in full force these days.

I wonder if this is my last move with them.

Boss: Bloomberg News wants to talk to you about the blog entry you wrote for the company website.
Me: Get outta town!
Him: (laughing) No, seriously. We can talk about it more after dinner.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get a chance to ring them until a few days later and, by then, they’d already spoken to another IP lawyer on the matter.

Her: Logan, you’ve got to be the most interesting person I know.
Me: I wouldn’t mind it being a little less interesting, honestly.

It’s funny, before everything started going to hell in 2014, I woulda killed to be interviewed in a national press like Bloomberg News and I woulda called that night if I coulda.

It’s part of the reason why I was able to lecture in Paris and Malaga – I got in touch with people right away.

Nowadays, though, all that seems to be less important to me. Other things occupy my mind.

Me: I’m so sorry I have to run. I gotta get the kid.
Her: Oh, we all understand. He’s so cute!
Me: (nodding) I’m legally required to watch over him until he’s 16 but his being cute helps.
Her: Oh Logan, you’re all talk.
Me: Yeah, the day he moves out, I’m gonna be a wreck.

Him: Papa! You look nice again!
Me: (laughing) Glad to see you’re always surprised by this, kiddo.

Location: five hours ago, outside Alison’s apartment, remembering
Mood: conflicted
Music: you call my name and it feels like home (Spotify)
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Christmas 2022

The one with the nut in the cookie

Friday was a weird day.

It had a high in the mid 50s but then a low of 7 degrees. It was so cold that we contemplated closing the gym but decided to just keep it open.

Speaking of gyms, the kid was great all week – he got another stripe on his BJJ belt to boot – that I relented when he asked if I could get him a Happy Meal before we went to the gym.

Damn, that company knows how to work kids.

In any case, it was good that we kept the gym open because it was 19 degrees outside that night but inside was pretty comfortable.

I had these ideas to improve the R-values of our insulation and it was nice to see that what we implemented did the trick.

Me: Considering that we’re all not wearing shirts, I’d say this was a success.
Him: Or, we’re right by the showers.
Me: Don’t take this from me. It’s the holidays.

Speaking of the holidays, I’d been meaning to spend time with my mom but I didn’t like the thought of Alison’s parents spending it with just the two of them, so we made the trek out there.

It was so cold, not even the pidgins wanted to be outside.

Son: Will you stay overnight?
Me: Do you really want me to stay?
Him: Of course! You’re my papa.

Usually, we have a pretty nice meat dish – like a prime rib or something – but this year we had homemade meatballs and baked ziti.

I wasn’t complaining.

Plus, when my MIL picked me up from the station, she brought this:

Me: God, you know me so well. Thanks!
Her: If it’s ok, I wouldn’t mind having a chicken breast.
Me: I’ll consider it.

Although, the kid’s dessert had more iron than we were expecting.

Me: I think it’s a nut – and not the kind you eat!
Her: How did that get in there?
Me: You’re asking me?

Luckily, the kid was fine and didn’t break a tooth like I did on that olive pit all those years ago.

There were a buncha things I’d been meaning to read/watch, including this one documentary called Fish & Men, which I found interesting.

Read the kid a book that my sister-in-law bought us years ago with a single dad and his son. Gotta say, it almost made me cry.

But I was surprised when the boy started to cry.

Me: Why are you crying?
Him: I don’t know…I miss mommy.
Me: (nodding) We can stop. How about a hug?
Him: (nodding)
Me: Sweeeeeet, cm’ere you…

I woulda stayed over longer but the heat stopped in my building and I’m the only one that understands how to work the boiler.

Me: OK, with the data you now know: There’s no heat in the downstairs units, but heat in the upstairs units, what can you conclude from this data, kid?
Him: (thinking) The heat is stuck on the top and can’t come down.
Me: (laughing) That’s not bad, actually. It’s something like that.

It’s weird, up until a month ago, the kid and I were the only males in the building; a fella just moved into one of the units but the rest of the building is all X-chromosomes who were decidedly cold.

So, I left a lot earlier than I planned because (a) I didn’t want them freezing in the single digits but (b) I also didn’t want my pipes freezing.

Because heat and pressure are closely linked, I had to increase the temp of everything to increase the pressure enough to force all the accumulated cold water in the radiators down the pipes but not so much that the whole thing…explodes.

Dying wasn’t high on my list of to-dos this holiday season (this time) so I kept a pretty close eye on the pressure gagues.

In the end, managed to fix it in just a couple of hours, so that was good and rewarded myself with some Korean soju that I had in the house.

All-in-all, it was a pretty nice Xmas, as my Xmases go.

Hopefully yours involved less fixing boilers and metal shards in your food and more time with your loved ones.

Him: I wish you could stay.
Me: People need me to help them. We always try to help if we can, right?
Him: I guess.
Me: I’ll see you again before you know it, kid.

Location: earlier in the boiler room, with a portable speaker, a glass of soju, and a rubber mallet. I didn’t use one of those things.
Mood: frigid
Music: I can live off of your body heat, yeah baby (Spotify)
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Not Looking for Mrs. Goodbar

Altogether Different

Me: [In all the years I’ve lived on the UWS] I’ve also never been to Emerald Inn if you wanna try an Irish pub. They have burgers and wings.
Her: Done.

ABFF and I haven’t been able to meet up with the kiddos because of scheduling issues but we managed to toss together an impromptu dinner with everyone the other day.

For something new, I suggested this Irish pub that I musta walked by a million times.

Just never went in so I brought it up. She was game.

While I was getting the kid ready to head out, though, it occurred to me that there was a reason I never went in.

Like I said, my memory’s been awful lately but as we headed down there, I remembered why I never went.

In 1977, the Emerald Inn was called W.M. Tweeds over at 250 West 72nd Street.

That year, a 28-year-old schoolteacher named Roseann Quinn – who lived across the street at 253 West 72nd Street – was out trying to pick up a fella for the night.

It was the 70s and she was into things like one-night stands, despite her being beaten and assaulted previously.

On the night of January 1st, 1973 that she met a fella named John Wayne Wilson (not kidding) whose wife was away so he went home with Quinn and, evidently, couldn’t perform.

When Roseann asked him to leave because of this, he evidently became incensed and grabbed a kitchen knife – her kitchen knife – and stabbed her a total of 18 times.

He then fled to Florida to his wife. Roseann’s body wasn’t found until two days later.

I always joke that I don’t know why all women aren’t lesbians because we men are, admittedly, a pretty awful lot.

Girl with Yellow Eyes: It just goes to show, attraction isn’t a choice.
Me: That’s my line!
Her: (rolling eyes) You don’t own that, Logan. But yeah, dating’s much worse for women. We’re all fighting over that one non-asshole in NY.
Me: (nodding) I’ll let you know if I meet him.

Suppose I’m only half joking.

Dunno why, but stories like these are morbidly fascinating to me because New York – compared to places like Berlin (826 years old) or Beijing (978 years old) – is barely an adolescent at 399 years old.

Yet New York City’s fulla these types of sordid and interesting stories.

You’d walk by the Emerald Inn or 253 W 72nd Street a million times and never think of the dark things that happened there.

And Quinn’s building is as boring and grey – literally and figuratively – as can be, yet it was once the scene of such horror.

Plus, this all happened just 45 years ago; imagine living in a place like Beijing that’s well over twice as old as NYC?

Conversely, I often wonder the same about the people I meet.

Maybe they were once something altogether different than they are now – perhaps the mild-mannered businessman next door was once a mob logistician.

Who knows?

Then again, I’m altogether different than I once was.

I mentioned to the ABFF that Quinn’s story was made into a bestselling novel called Looking for Mr. Goodbar, and later a film starring Diane Keaton and Richard Gere.

While the actual story about Roseann Quinn is tragic, the movie is tragic in slightly different ways, because in it, Keaton’s character had finally decided to change the trajectory of her life when it was cut short.

Things like that bother me for a multitude of reasons – the what ifs – but I suppose that’s an entry for another time.

 

In any case, the darkness of the place’s history notwithstanding, the kids had a really fun time there. Plus, they have some the best fish and chips I’ve had in the city.

Him: Can we have quarters for the jukebox?!
Me: Fiiine.

I suppose if you dig deep enough anywhere, you’re bound to uncover something horrifically evil.

Probably more often than you can find some good fish and chips, anywho.

Her: This place must be great during St. Patrick’s Day.
Me: You gotta figure…

Location: earlier tonight, being told that Bloomberg news wants to interview me for a legal issue.
Mood: flattered
Music: Tragedy, private, comfort of strangers (Spotify)
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Mind. Blown.

Super impressed

Starting from 1996, my busiest times were always the period between Thanksgiving and the day after New Year’s.

Before 2015, it was always the happiest time for me. Conversely, after Alison got sick and then died, it was the worst time.

Like I said, it’s still not great but not quite as bad as it’s been.

Before 2015, I would literally go to 4-5 parties a week to get food, drink, and meet new potential clients/women for the upcoming year.

Alla that stopped hard in 2015 and it’s been quiet since then.

This year, though, I’ve had an unexpectedly full social card for reasons totally unrelated to my doing anything.

Trying to figure out which ones I should tell you about.

After alla the tragedy, hacking attempts, and random people mad at me with social media everywhere these days, I’m trying to be more cautious about what I post and what I keep to myself.

Because of how the space was laid out, people gathered at either end of the office but not in the middle.

Having said that, I will say that I went to another party over at Recalibrate PT, which is owned by a buddy of mine, and a member of my gym.

Went to a party there over the summer that I told you about.

Her: (laughing) You’re funny. You should write.
Him: He does, in a manner of speaking. He has a blog.
Me: I do. But no one reads it.
Him: I read it. Sometimes.
Me: So, yeah, one.

Suppose the main reason I’m telling you about it is because my buddy’s sister is a professional magician and did a show for us and, man, my mind was blown.

Her: As you know, a deck of cards has 52 cards…
Me: I do now!

She goes by the name Lau and she had one pretty impressive magic trick after the other.

Right before she took the stage, she asked me to think of my favourite city and write it on a piece of paper that I was to put in my pocket.

I did exactly that; she never saw what I wrote – although my handwriting is so atrocious that, even if she did, I doubt she coulda read it.

Told no one any of this.

 

Later, when she got to my part of the show – and in front of everyone – she asked me three or four questions before scribbling the above on a pad of paper and showing everyone.

Me: GTFOH!

It was super impressive, but not as impressive as what she did with the next guy.

See, she asked who he’d go on a trip with and she asked him another handful of questions.

Then, she drew a picture of a trees and showed it to him.

He politely shook his head, confused. But she had a picture of a guy next to the trees and wrote the word, “lumber” next to the trees.

After a few moments, my buddy’s eyes grew wide as Lau continued:

Her: Wait, lumber..lumber…jack? Jack?
Him: (mouth agape) Get the fuck outta here!

By that time, he and I killed a solid 1/3 of a bottle of vodka (there wasn’t any rum), and we were pretty impressed and highly intoxicated.

But then she did a hypnotism trick that blew everyone’s mind, essentially having one of our buddies, Dave doing things that none of us could figure out was possible.

Anhywho, I don’t wanna give away too much, but if you ever get a chance to catch a show by her, it’ll be worth it.

It was pretty late when I staggered home, me deep in thought and two sheets to the wind.

Thought I saw someone that I knew as I left but I think it was just the alcohol.

 

View this profile on Instagram

 

LAU (@lau4magic) • Instagram photos and videos

Location: earlier today, finding out that she doesn’t own her apartment, she owns the entire building
Mood: anxious
Music: tell me why my gods look like you (Spotify)
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Modern communications

Pretty things

I was texting with my brother throughout the whole colonoscopy prep ordeal and thought it was pretty funny.

 

Now, I’m finding that, despite my best efforts, texting/messaging is the main way I communicate with people these days.

Although, I much prefer email; it’s just the nature of modern day communications.

Anywho, I’ve saved a buncha texts meaning to write about them but never have.

Like this exchange between me and one of my 30-something friends, who is not Asian.

 

A lot of the funny texts I have are with women that I’ve dated in the past that are now friends of mine.

I’m always rooting for them to succeed in life, even if I’m not their life partner. Although for many complex reasons…

 

 

OK, maybe not that complex.

A buddy of mine asked how to be good on text with women and I told him that honesty is a major component of it.

It’s not so much about being yourself, it’s about being your authentic best self.

For example, this girl had to reschedule but we ended up meeting at my newest fave dive bar the other day – she was worried I thought she was standing me up, which I thought was rather cute.

 

 

I’ve only ever been stood up once, by the Heiress. People with a ton of money think that money buys them the right to be douchebags. It doesn’t.

Now, can’t tell you how many first dates I go on…second dates are another matter entirely.

Although, the likelihood of a second date happening rises exponentiality if there’s food and an open bar to be had.

Case in point, a while back, I essentially had to run interference on this girl’s very handsy coworker/ex-fling (who was definitely breaking some HR rules) which, I was happy to do because (a) she was easy on the eyes and (b) the alcohol was comped and top-shelf.

 

Honestly, there’s not much I won’t do for some free, top-shelf alcohol.

And running interference is fun.

Him: I run the division. What about you?
Me: Oh, I dabble in this and that. Mostly, I drink.
Her: (interjecting) He’s a lawyer that owns a gym in Union Square and has a YouTube channel where he teaches people to fight with knives.
Him: Ooooh, should I be scared?
Me: Not yet, no…

So, if you’re a woman that needs someone to run interference for you – and there’s food and drink involved – I’m your guy.

I should start a business or something…

Him: Why do you look so nice, papa?
Me: Well, I think I look pretty good most days.
Him: (laughing) Nooooooooooooooooooooo…
Me: (shaking head) Everyone’s a critic.

Location: earlier today, a penthouse apartment near my pad
Mood: busy, busy, busy
Music: Ain’t it such a good life that we live? (Spotify)
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Thanksgiving 2022

Getting hustled

This year was kinda different but also kinda the same.

The NFL player invited me over for a party that he was throwing for his friends and family, and it’s so close to my pad that I couldn’t say no.

The issue was that – for better or worse – there were cops just everywhere because they live right on Central Park West and there were huge crowds of people trying to watch the balloons inflate.

Officer: Sorry, you can’t go this way.
Me: (holding up a bottle of whiskey I brought as a gift) I’m heading to a party at that building over there, though.
Him: (sighing) Go ahead, sir.

Honestly, I’m gonna start wearing a suit and bringing a bottle of whiskey everywhere now.

It was a really fun night because there were actually a lotta 30-somethings there that were friends of his kids.

Mainly, though, it was really well catered and I’m a sucker for good food.

Him: These sliders are amazing.
Me: You don’t have to tell me twice. (grab a few)
Him: (looking at me) Are you only eating one of the buns?
Me: (sheepishly) I’m cheating on my no-carb diet but only partially.
Him: (pause) I’m going to do that too.

Sweeeeeet.

He even had a bartender.

Me: Wait, you have the aged Captain Morgan? No one ever has that.
Him: Well, we do. How do you want it?
Me: On the rocks with a slice of orange, please.

This was pretty much me most of the night; I don’t think most people noticed me stuffing my fat face non-stop. That’s the hope, at least.

It was late when I left and I offered to walk the NFL Player’s daughter to catch a cab.

Her: Thanks for walking me.
Me: Heck, it’s the least I could do, considering how much I ate.

Then, the kid and headed over to my in-laws to get Thanksgiving with them.

My brother was in town but I just hate the thought of my in-laws not having Alison over the holidays.

I know how much it wears on me so I can only imagine how it affects them.

It was always her favourite holiday because she got to spend it with her family and I would spend it with mine.

We only spent 2014 and 2015 together but that just makes me sad so I’ll move on.

In any case, I feel that, if Alison can’t be with them, the kid will be as a second-best option.

I’m just there as the kid’s chauffer but it’s fine because the food’s always killer.

I swear the kid hustled me with Uno.

Him: Uno!
Me: You’re kidding me.
Him: Nope! See… (shows me)
Me: (grumble)

There was a lotta pie, alla which I ate but I didn’t take any pictures.

Went home that night while the kid stayed there.

Had some things I needed to take care of and we’ll leave it at that.

I still hate the holidays but it hurts a bit less these days.

Suppose it’s just time. Or the rum. Maybe both.

Probably both.

Location: home, after a fun night at the gym
Mood: hungry again. I’m always hungry
Music: Oh, what can I say? I’m survivin’ (Spotify)
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A night with the Pastor and Conan

More Often

Him: I dunno – it sounds like everything you put in place worked.
Me: What are you talking about? I lost my Facebook account and Instagram accounts.
Him: Sure, that sucks. But they didn’t get any money because you had alarms set that notified you about the breach, you put on 2FA onto all your financial accounts, you had someone monitoring your network. Everything worked the way it was supposed to work, FB and IG notwithstanding. You lost no money and you didn’t get ransomwared. I’d call all that a win, honestly.

A buddy of mine is a tech specialist and he felt that both this latest hack and the previous one went as well as one could hope.

Suppose I really should focus on the positives more than the negatives.

Speaking of positives, the pastor invited me out to watch Conan O’Brien just a few blocks down from my pad.

We made arrangements for this months before the hack took place – interestingly, one thing they tried to do was transfer my ticket to the show outta my Ticketmaster account.

Luckily, I scrambled to stop that and moved it to yet another account I created.

So, one rainy night this past week, I met up with him at my usual diner.

Him: Do you know what you want?
Me: I’m actually gonna get the tuna melt, which I never do but a friend of mine just had one the other day and it looked good.

Caught him up with all the craziness that was going on with me. Like most people, he was puzzled about how the whole thing went down.

Him: They sent out your passwords and didn’t get any money?
Me: Well, they tried. Sending out my passwords was just kinda…mean.

We were literally right next door to the theatre so we stepped out, and were in our seats in less than 10 minutes.

Me: Every time I come here I say the same thing: I need to come here more often.

He got us some killer seats right next to the stage. I’m usually in the nosebleed areas.

Well, back when I still went out.

The only issue with the seats is the lady in front of me decided to put her hair up so this was what I saw 70% of the night.

Talk about lack of self-awareness.

The show itself was good, not great, only because the guest for the first half of that night was Tracey Morgan and I just don’t find him funny at all.

Heard that Stephen Colbert was the guest the night before – my luck runs ever true – so that was a slight disappointment BUT the second half of the show was pretty good.

We chatted for a bit afterward before I headed home, which was only 10 minutes away.

Me: Thanks a lot for the invite!
Him: No problem, I’m glad we could make it work despite everything you’ve been dealing with.

Note to self: Go there more often.

In the days/weeks before the show, kept thinking I should stay home to work on the hack but I’m glad I went and got my mind off everything, if only for a little bit.

Thank goodness for the good souls.

Location: stabbing, slashing, and wrestling on W 18th
Mood: tired, with a really bum knee
Music: Yes, I know, let’s go (Spotify)
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My office is moving

I’ll never see it again

While everything was happening, my law firm moved. It’s actually the third office we’ve had since I started working with them.

Told you about the day I started working there so, I figured I should tell you when I left too.

They invited me to a last-minute shindig, which I was going to say no to but then I figured I’d spent enough time hunched over my computers trying to fix my life, so I said, yes.

But, because it was so last minute, I didn’t have anyone to watch the kid.

Boss: Bring him!
Me: You sure?
Him: Why not? It’ll be fine.

So, after school one day, we went over to my old office; didn’t realize at the time that it would be the last time I would step foot into it.

The kid was a hit, of course. But he got super shy.

Boy: Too many people!
Me: But I’m here.
Him: (shakes head) Too many people.

So, he sat outside for a little bit while I chatted with everyone. After a while, the kid started relaxing and relenting. Plus, I promised him dessert.

Him: What is it?
Me: Cheesecake.
Him: I don’t like cheesecake.
Me: What are you, a communist?

Ultimately, he ended up sitting next to me and having some pizza. And pasta. And more pizza. And more pasta. And the aforementioned cheesecake.

He liked the chocolate garnish, just not the cake itself.

My boss handed him keys to part of the office and told him he could keep it. That made him smile. You can see the keys in the picture above, with the red key fob.

One of the lawyers that I’ve known for ages, David, isn’t coming with us, because he’s retiring and focusing on being a professor at the law school where he teaches.

He said some really kind words to me that I’ll keep to myself but I was grateful for the gesture.

A young lady who was the receptionist showed up. The last I saw of her, she had just started law school.

Me: How’s law school?
Her: (puzzled) Law school? I graduated a while ago.
Me: (shaking head) Sorry. I’ve lost so much track of time ever since…doesn’t matter. Where are you now?
Her: (nodding) I’m in the Brooklyn DA’s office.
Me: Wait, you’re an ADA?!
Her: (smiling) Yup!
Me: OMG, lemme see your badge!
Her: (laughs and reaches over for her bag)

It’s funny. All these people that were assistants and receptionists at my firm all went on to have some great jobs and careers.

When Alison first met my boss, she really liked him. We had all these plans, her and I, that never came to fruition.

Me: So, when’s the big move day?
Boss: Next Monday.
Me: Wait, that soon?!

It was then that I realized I’d never be in that office again. That really weighed on me.

In any case, I hope these people manage to get what they hope. Someone should get what they want.

Afterward, the kid and I walked to Grand Central where we met up with a student at our gym at the gourmet cheese shop where he works.

Me: So, this is where you are when you’re not being choked or strangled.
Him: (laughs) Yup.

It was late when the kid and I went home.

Me: Did you have a good time?
Him: (nodding) Your friends are nice.
Me: They are. You tired?
Him: (sleepily shakes head)
Me: Gotcha.


Location: West 76th and Amsterdam, running into a girl I met online in real life
Mood: sick
Music: I just sit here on this mountain, thinking to myself (Spotify)
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Jealous all the time, Pt 2

Found my wedding ring

Him: I came across some of your blog entries. It was unexpected.
Me: (nodding) I get that a lot. But we are what we constantly do and I always wrote. You surprised me as well. And I’m not often surprised. Hence, my being here. It seems that we all have our secret lives…and skills.

The Frenchman and his wife are also highly successful in their professional lives, like my friends around the way or the NFL Player.

Him: [My wife] runs the entire division.
Me: God, I wanna marry rich. Send me your rich, hot friends.
Him: (laughs) I might have someone for you.
Me: You should know, [I’m very shallow.]
Him: (laughs again)

There’s something about fighting that makes people struggle and scuffle in all areas of their lives. He’s not the first highly successful, highly dangerous person I’ve met in my life.

He reminded me of an old friend of mine. Quiet, highly educated, well-spoken, and well-dressed, but completely inured to violence.

Completely.

Him: (pointing over to someone at the bar) I know, what it will feel like if that man and I fought. I know how it would end, without knowing anything about him.
Me: If I had to fight you – or any grappler – I’d have to slit your wrists as soon as I could. I can’t allow you to grab me.
Him: (smiles) [You thought this through].
Me: I’ve survived this long by thinking things through.

In any ways, this craziness was a nice respite from the other craziness in my life.

He caught a cab home past midnight. We’d chatted for over four hours. It’s strange talking to my peers again.

Spent so much time talking to people so much younger than me for so long that it was like I was wearing old clothes that – surprisingly – still fit.

Him: I know you have close friends and a support network but if you ever feel down, don’t hesitate to ping me.
Me: I appreciate that, and the company and conversation tonight. These are the questions people of our age ask: Why are we here? And are we leaving the world better off than when we arrived? I don’t know the answer to either but am hopeful, for some reason.

I’m stupid like that.

And I don’t have many close friends on purpose. People are…difficult.

Walked home to my empty apartment, which was sparkling clean because the housekeeper was there earlier.

She found my wedding ring. I’d lost it ages ago but Alison never cared. She knew I was her fella; we were happy with just the other as company.

Friday nights were always our favourite.

It’s funny, the wedding ring never mattered to either of us, just the marriage itself.

Was actually holding it in my hand, thinking about my possible pasts again, when The Frenchman reached out to me earlier that night.

In any case, after I got back, I sat down and poured myself a drink and wished I asked him for his friend’s name that died from the brain cancer to give him a toast.

Instead, I just cheered Alison and my dad and downed it and half the bottle by myself in my empty apartment – the boy was away.

This is after four drinks with The Frenchman.

Woke up the next morning on my couch, still in my clothes. The ring was on the table.

Someone once asked if I was jealous of her bestie that recently had a baby with his wife.

She said it to break my heart but the joke was on her because you can’t break what’s already broken.

It was the strangest question because I thought the answer was obvious.

Of course I am, I said. I’m jealous all the fucking time.

Location: that night, with an empty bottle of rum on the table and an empty me on the couch
Mood: muddle-headed again
Music: I’m your walking disaster, keep on dragging me from self-pity, poor me (Spotify)
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