Tag: nightlife

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personal

Hurt you so badly

Better off now

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…

Location: this afternoon, Blue Bottle with the pastor, disagreeing about cruising
Mood: contemplative
Music: this should be a crime and I’m ready to do the time (Spotify)
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Valentine’s Day 2023

Sneak peeks

Don’t think I’ve had a proper Valentine’s Day in years.

Not that I’ve not wanted to. It’s just that it’s not something you can do on your own.

Like I said, I’ve been trying to do things differently these days. After all, if you keep doing what you do, you keep getting what you get.

Me: You free to do something [next week]?
Her: A chance to spend time with Logan Lo? Yes, please.
Me: (laughing) Great. I’ve got a few things in mind.

Had my sitter watch the kid and had the Firecraker meet me outside of my pad.

While it’s great that the boy seems to be fine with her, I do want to try and manage how often he sees her because everything is so new.

Having said that, I brought her to a private sneak peek of a building that was just gut renovated a couplea blocks from my pad.

As soon as we walked in, someone took our coats, and within a few minutes…

Him: Chardonnay?
Me: That would be lovely – thank you very much.

She’d never been to anything like this so I showed her around a bit but she got the hang of it pretty early and was soon off doing her own thing, checking things out.

Should mention that the bathrooms at this place were nicer than my entire apartment.

Her: This shower is bigger than most rooms.
Me: We should get a place like this.
Her: Let’s do it!

In any case, I put on my old personality and started making friends.

Me: Do you have a card?
Him: (fumbling) No, I…
Me: (reaching in my jacket pocket) No worries, take one of mine. Logan. And you are…?

The Firecracker wanted to stay longer than I did, because it was all so new and fun.

But we had dinner plans.

Me: Sushi’s still good?
Her: You put that in my head, so, yes, I’m definitely up for some sushi.

I’m still trying to understand how much she eats. I’m used to eating a ton so I ordered waaaaaay too much sushi. She had a normal human’s portion while I…did not.

Her: I’m so stuffed.
Me: I’M so stuffed. That says a lot.

We actually got each other things for Valentine’s Day. What I got for her is for her and we’ll leave it that.

Me: I always slant practical versus romantic. It’s just my nature.
Her: No, these are awesome, thank you!

She, in turn, handed me a heart-shaped box. I gotta admit, I was a bit disappointed when I saw it because I don’t eat sweets. At least, not normal sweets that I don’t bake myself.

Her: It’s not what you think it is. Open it.

And I did and saw that she bought me a heart-shaped box of…dried meat products.

Her: I know you don’t eat carbs so…
Me: Holy shitballs, this is awesome!
Her: You like it?
Me: It’s perfect. Thank you.

Afterward, because she didn’t live too far from the restaurant I walked her home.

Me: Did you have a nice night?
Her: I had you, a nice event, and a great dinner. So, yes.
Me: (laughing) Good. I did as well.
Her: This wouldn’t be a bad life, Logan Lo.
Me: No, Firecracker. Not at all.

Location: this afternoon, watching the boy hit a takedown and get mount on the UWS
Mood: impressed
Music: you and me, we’re not friends (Spotify)
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The 90s-Themed Party

Dinner with my college friends

Her: Logan! (shakes head, sighs) What’s the opposite of a cougar?
Me: I dunno.
Her: Logan Lo…

It’s been super busy lately, sorry for the lack of updates.

I suppose the two things that are taking up the most of my time are: the tax increase (boo!) and the Firecracker (yay!).

I’ve not been social with too many of my old friends for reasons I’ve told you about before, but lately, that’s been changing.

For example, I’ve always wanted to introduce someone to my college friends but either no one I was dating reached that level of comfort or the people that did wouldn’t have appreciated it or them.

The last person I introduced my college friends to was Alison and that was over a decade ago.

But my friends were celebrating two of our groups birthdays and I asked if the Firecracker wanted to come along.

Me: The thing is, there might be a theme.
Her: What’s the theme?
Me: The 90s.
Her: I love it! We gotta do it.

So, we got dressed up and headed downtown to Kimika to meet everyone.

Honestly, one of the best things about her is her positivity. I didn’t realize how much negativity I’d been harbouring in my life for the past few years.

She loved Clueless as a kid so dressed somewhat similarly to Cher/Alicia Silverstone while I channeled my inner Will Ferrel from Night at the Roxbury, combined with the Rock from the 90s.

The fella over my shoulder’s Gar, whose home I went to over the summer to swim.

It was a ton of fun. The food was ridic good and I cannot tell you how many bottles of wines and glasses of rum I went through.

Although, I should comment that we were all talking about us all getting older and I had a glass of red wine in my hand and I literally snapped it in half for some inexplicable reason.

Table: LOGAN! What happened?
Her: Did you just snap that in half?
Me: Yes?
Her: Why did you do that?
Me: I didn’t do it intentionally!

I really didn’t. Suppose I’m really, really not mentally ready to turn 50.

That woulda been the end of that…had I not spilled another glass of water a few minutes later.

Table: (groans)
Me: (to Firecracker) This may explain why I don’t get invited out a lot.

For some reason, they didn’t tell me to leave. In fact, they invited us out to drinks afterward at another friend’s bar, Ms. Yoo.

Along the way, I ended up chatting with Gar’s wife, Wynn.

Her: So, I’m just watching some things on YouTube and you know what shows up?
Me: No idea.
Her: You! I get this suggested video from Scenic Fights and there’s your face!
Me: Sweeeeeeet. You’re welcome.

The bar was pretty packed with people but it was still great.

LT: Here are some cards for comped drinks.
Me: Thanks! I promise to try and not spill anything.

I really am ridic clumsy.

One of the girls there knew my cousin Ras and we commented (a) how young everyone looked and (b) how small the world was.

By that point, it was late so the Firecracker and I broke out and headed back home.

Her: Your friends are nice.
Me: I like to think so. Did you have a nice night?
Her: (nods) Yeah, I did.

 

Location: running into another kalista in a playground on the UWS
Mood: flirty
Music: Dreams are hopeless aspirations in hopes of comin’ true (Spotify)
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What we could be

Looking for green flags

Firecracker: I like you and you like me and we’re trying to see what we could be.
Me: Oh, that rhymes.
Her: I know, I said it.

While I still believe that most of my luck is of the stripe that no one wants, I do gotta say that I feel lucky that I meet so many good souls in my life.

My buddy CoB makes a number of appearances in this blog and in my life in general.

I’ll just be doing one rando thing or another and I’ll get a completely non sequitur message from her that comes outta nowhere.

Case in point, she sent me the following images while telling me about what was going on her life.

Her: Took myself out after [after an awful day]. I DESERVE A RESTAURANT WEEK LUNCH!
Me: You def do! (later) OMG, you just massively changed my dinner plans. I was going to take the Firecracker to a casual bar thingy but you reminded me that it’s restaurant week so now we’re heading to The Library at The Astor – thanks to you!
Her: Ohhhhh I love that place! Have all the funz!

I was in NJ, dropping the kiddo off at my in-laws and rushing for time. The Firecracker and I met up around me as I got ready in 10 minutes, and we headed down to Astor Place together.

Her: Are you trying to impress me with your directional skills?
Me: God, no. I would get lost in a sealed paper bag.

Neither she nor I had ever been to The Library. One massive plus of going to a nice joint is that it’s usually less crowded.

It turns out that we share a lot of the same tastes in food except for three major things:

      • Most of my diet consists of some form of peanut butter – after all, the kid and I go through close to two pounds of the stuff per week. She cannot stand the sight nor smell of it.
      • She doesn’t like Indian food.
      • She can’t handle spicy food.

Buddy: Dude, I swear to god, if you mess this up over peanut butter…
Me: How dumb do you think I am?
Him: (stares)
Me: Fair…

Finally, she’s very good at expressing herself, which I really appreciate. I think I’ve spent years talking with people but never actually communicating with them.

Her: You know, instead of looking for red flags, maybe look for green flags.
Me: Green flags?
Her: (nodding) Reasons to do this thing instead of not.
Me: Well, you do have a lotta those, Firecracker.
Her: As do you, Logan Lo.


Location: late this afternoon, getting midday drinks in midtown
Mood: always hungry
Music: If we never met, I’d be drunk, waking up in someone else’s bed (Spotify)
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Violence and Mexican with the fellas

You’re always hungry

Sorry, more out of order entries.

Been insanely busy these days, mainly with my slowly stirring social life, which itself is an entire entry.

On that note, the Frenchman and Bryson – who both know each other – stopped by my gym the other day.

It’s been ages since Bryson was at my pad last. I’m 33 in that pic in that entry.

I miss that leather jacket.

It was cool to see the Frenchman roll because a number of the gym members knew him as only as a beginning kali student and definitely not as a seasoned BJJ black belt.

I rolled with both Bryson (a brown belt) – who missed the entire class but ended up catching the sparring part – and the Frenchman. I was surprised to see that I survived as long as I did.

They both wrecked me. It was glorious.

Did manage to catch Chad in an omaplata (!!) in one of our rolls, which is the second time I’ve tapped him in 14 years. Pure luck.

So, I’m averaging one tap on him every seven years, which is actually far better than I woulda expected, lemme tell ya.

Unfortunately, the Frenchman, like me, had a number of injuries and he definitely tweaked it again rolling with Chad, who I’m sure, was happy to be on the mats with two high-level fellas like them.

Him: Rolling after 40 is a different thing.
Me: Preaching to the converted, man.

Afterward, the three of us left with the kid to head back to my place to drink and catch up.

Me: Heya! Are we still on for tonight?
Her: I mean, I’m still testing positive for covid…

The reason I had the kid with me was the same reason that we had to shut down the gym the other day; his sitter was supposed to watch him so I could hang out with them but she ended up getting COVID. Ditto for his guitar instructor.

But I was happy he got to meet Bryson. I consider him one of my oldest and dearest friends, even though we rarely see each other.

Kinda think that’s just how it is these days.

The kid’s been on a taco kick lately; this is what I made for him earlier in the week…

But there’s this killer taco truck one block away from my pad and we left the gym late. Like, really late.

Me: You guys should get something here. The food is outstanding.
Frenchman: You don’t want anything? It’s on me.
Me: Nah, I’m still single so I gotta try and look good. But I’m sure the kid’ll want something.
Boy: YESH!

It was great catching up with them. The kid liked having a full house. And the late-night Mexican.

Me: Why are you always hungry?!
Boy: YOU’RE ALWAYS HUNGRY.
Me: (scowling because I was just bested by a seven-year-old)

They gave me a ton of gossip about all the other schools and the goings-on there. We also talked a lot about child-rearing.

Me: As the only one of us without a daughter, I’m just gonna say I’m guessing that’s even more stressful.
Bryson: No way, boys are a terror. Terror!

It was pretty fun night that we said we’d do again.

The next day, I brought the kid out to my in-laws and then came back.

Also met up with another single-serving girlie, which is all that really needs to be said. Another date to nowhere.

It was a short little innocuous meetup.

Her: You’re a little too charming for my tastes. My spider-sense goes off when someone’s too charming.
Me: Give it time, darling. I’ll be sure to disappoint you, somehow.

Had a few more dates lined up this week too but an unexpected trip to the doctor for a medical emergency and a blue-eyed blonde firecracker messed up those plans.

But that’s for another entry.

Her: You’re the first guy I’ve ever googled and actually found something besides their LinkedIn.
Me: You’re welcome?

Location: this morning, getting an early morning Reuben with a new friend and not getting to eat it.
Mood: super tired
Music: never get old (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.

 

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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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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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personal

Jealous all the time, Pt 1

The Grey Men

The kid got his first stripe in BJJ recently. He was thrilled. As was I.

Him: Papa, papa, look!
Me: That’s awesome! I’m proud of you.
Him: (beams)

Didn’t vote for the first time in…dunno how long. Although, not for lack of trying. We went to two and almost three places but I wasn’t to be found.

I’m disappearing, it seems. Maybe that’s for the best.

I miss when I was a grey man and no one knew me and what I could do.

As for the boy, he’ll have secrets of his own, someday.

Had lots of plans this past weekend but everything fell through because of everything I told you. And some stuff I haven’t.

Every time I think I’m outta the woods, I find out I’m not.

Was planning on just working on cleaning up my digital life the entire weekend when I got a message from a fella that goes to my gym.

Him: Let’s try to grab a drink soon!
Me: I’m dealing with some craziness now that’s a bit hard to explain. (thinking) Oh wait, what are you doing tonight? You’re in Manhattan, yes?
Him: Yup! Let meet after I have dinner – closer to 8 works?

Told you once that no one knew that I did weapons work – for close to two decades no less – because I did it for me. It only came out because Alison died and I stopped caring and did Scenic Fights.

While I’m proud of what we do, and the fellas are great, a part of me regrets that decision. For many reasons.

In any case, this fella, we’ll call him The Frenchman, has been coming to Paxibellum’s kali class for about a year. He and his wife slip in, do their thing, and slip out.

Through Facebook, I found out that he knew Bryson and I was shocked that he’s a black belt from his school.

For those of you not in the life, that’s a really big deal. And it’s from a world-renowned academy, no less.

So, I was looking forward to finding out more about him at at my local dive bar, where he had wine and I stuck to hard seltzers and beers.

Me: You’re like me, a grey man. You have skills that you don’t talk about, I like that.
Him: (laughing) Yes. I do these things for myself, there’s no reason for anyone else to know.
Me: (nodding) Same. You’re a grappler that wants to learn weapons. I’m a weapons person that wants to learn grappling.
Him: What else do you do?
Me: (laughing) You first.

We ended up chatting for about three hours there but then it started getting loud so we went to a much nicer joint where we stayed past midnight.

That place was much louder.

He was curious about Scenic Fights, the gym, what I do…and Alison.

Me: Sorry, I didn’t expect there to be a band playing tonight.
Him: It’s fine. Tell me about your wife.
Me: Where to begin?
Him: We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want.
Me: (shrugging) I always like talking about her. I just tend to cry when I do.

It turns out that one of his best friends also died of brain cancer. How sad and wild.

He lived a lot longer than Alison, though.

I was oddly jealous about that, which, admittedly, is a super fucked-up thing to think.

Then again, I’m pretty fucked up.

But it’s late, so I’ll tell you the rest tomorrow.

Location: home, with way too much alcohol, weapons, and sweets about
Mood: rough
Music: The rest of the world was black and white (Spotify)
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