Success models

We can’t stay here

The dinner itself was fun and the food was killer. It was also good to see the fellas outside of the gym and in our regular selves.

Him: I’m starting up a new venture with some big Hollywood stars.
Me: Do you need a lazy, high-functioning alcoholic lawyer?
Him: Oh, we have one of those already.
Me: Dammit.

It was so much, in fact, that we ended up staying out until they turned on the lights in the restaurant.

Him: I think they’re trying to tell us something.
Me: Yeah, we don’t have to go home, but we can’t stay here.

Most of what we discussed is unprintable, either because it was about the business or because it was about our personal lives.

Him: …and then the kid and his friends came out with guns and started firing.
Me: Well, I’m not visiting you there, then.

Told you once that you’re the average of the five people that you spend the most time with. These people should be your success models: The people we wanna be.

But there are probably just as many failure models in your life as there as success models. These are the people that are people like the consistently poor decision-makers, the immature, the selfish, the willfully ignorant, etc. Unfortunately, it’s a lot easier to end up with failure models than success models.

Him: I remember some of the advice he gave me.
Me: Man, taking business advice from him is like taking relationship advice from someone that’s never been in a good one.

Chad and I know a fella that’s super-focused on building, essentially, a martial arts cult for some mythical yesteryear versus a commercially successful business for 2022 NYC.

It’s mental masturbation full of nonsense versus concerted, dispassionate grind. And a life focused on mental masturbation produces precisely the same result as a life focused on actual masturbation. After all, if you keep doing what you do, you keep getting what you get.

He’s our walking, talking, cautionary tale.

In the end, we picked the investors because they’re all very successful in their respective fields and all had a skill or attribute that would be a tangible benefit to the gym and each other.

A plus is that they’re all extremely good fighters in their respective arts, which helps if you’re running a martial arts gym.

It stopped raining when we finally left.

Me: We should do this again, soon.
Investor 1: I’m away for the next three months at [a resort I own]. You guys should visit.
Investor 2: I’m away for the next two months in [the Caribbean with my family].
Investor 3: I’m in Europe for a day for work this week but back for the holidays and then traveling again.
Me: Clearly, I’ve made some poor life choices. If I didn’t have the kid in school…

Speaking of the kid, he and I put up a Christmas tree together. I bought a slightly larger tree than the one that was damaged, and I had to toss.

It was the first time we decorated a tree together. Man, he was so happy. I told him the story – as best I could – of each ornament, alla which had a story with them.

Him: The bell really works!
Me: (laughing) Yes, yes it does.
Him: It’s so cool! (thinking) I miss mommy.
Me: (sighing)

When he went to bed, I sat there and just stared at the tree for a while before I poured myself a glass of fine aged rum and thought about all of my possible pasts.

God, I fucking hate the holidays.

Location: earlier yesterday evening, looking at diamond rings
Mood: hopeful
Music: He’s been living in a pure illusion (Spotify)
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Déjà vu with burgers and lobsters

A business dinner

Me: I think I’ve been here before.
Him: You don’t remember being at a place called Burgers & Lobster?
Me: (pointing to wall) Well, I remember seeing lobster pots at a restaurant I went to, but that whole time was a blur.
Him: (laughing) I’m gonna say you’ve been here before.

The other investors of Paxibellum and I had our end-of-year dinner this week to go over where we were with the gym.

I screwed up the times so two of them were already at the bar when I showed up – it was raining and, despite it being just a few blocks from the gym and me with an umbrella, I showed up with my bottom half pretty wet.

Chad picked the joint, which is odd because that dude does not like seafood.

After I settled into the bar, I felt this huge sense of déjà vu. It was only when I saw the lobster pots on the wall that I realized that I’d gone there with Nadi and Kung.

Nadi about to devour some lobster, four years ago.

I had spent the night before with Gradgirl and she had brought over a bottle of vodka, which I recall I enjoyed.

Me: Have you ever had some fine aged rum?
Her: No, is it any good?
Me: It’s my favourite because if you take really bad rum, and put it on a ship…

I’d just met her and she was honestly just lovely.

We communicated via disappearing messages the entire time so I literally have nothing to remember her by except my own cloudy memories, which bums me out more than I can express.

I remember waking up the next morning and, like most of that time, not wanting to do anything but stay in bed with my bottles of rum/vodka. And her.

But I’d already told Nadi and Kung that I’d meet up with them. So, I remember crawling out of bed and getting ready to go.

I don’t recall if Gradgirl stayed or left that morning but I remember that she was the first person I actually wanted to spend any time with versus going out to put on a good show for my friends.

To be honest, there’s a good part of me that wonders if she was real at all. Nothing seems real before I recovered from COVID.

Maybe I made it all up.

In any case, it was strange walking into the same restaurant, this time with a completely new set of friends, save for Chad, whom I really didn’t know all that well at that time.

Haven’t talked to Nadi and Kung in a while; suppose I’ll ring them up this week. I think I cried twice sitting with them that morning. Don’t remember much of that time.

Except that so many people – friends, new friends, and strangers – were kind and worried about me.

I dunno if I truly thanked everyone for their kindness during that time.

Hope they know I appreciated it then, and still do now.

Getting back to now, Chad and the remaining investor showed up (another was away) not long afterward and we got seated.

As it happened, the investors and I literally sat in the same area that Nadi, Kung, and I sat at four years prior. Fuck…it’s been four years.

As for Gradgirl, I’ve not seen her in years but, in my head, she’s finally happy with her fella.

We should all be happy with our person.

There’s more but I’ll finish it up later on this week.

Location: earlier today, trying on some new gear at Paxi
Mood: drunk
Music: You’re better off this way, I was never gonna stay (Spotify)
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Who are you?

Not as long as you need me

Pac: You already told me this.
Me: I did? Sorry, I’m forgetting a ton of things.
Him: What is wrong with you?
Me: Well, insomnia, a possible concussion, lots of pharmaceuticals and general feelings of pain and loss. I’m actively trying to forget things and people and sometimes other things get caught up.
Him: Great, now I feel bad for saying anything.

Recently made a channel on YouTube for Paxibellum and got a call from one of the producers of Scenic Fights. Evidently, I did a number of things he wasn’t happy about but mainly…I did it twice.

Him: …AND you uploaded the videos twice to each channel!
Me: I did it in my insomnia phase so I’ll take them down. Sorry.

Evidently, Sleepy Logan’s back. It also appears that he’s on a health food kick because there are half-a-dozen avocados, and two large containers of salads in my fridge that I have zero recollection of getting.

MIL: I bought toys for him. You told me you got them and put them away.
Me: Mom, I hid them so well, that I forget everything about them.

Chad’s been telling me to get an MRI and I really struggled with whether or not to do it but I ultimately decided that there’s nothing to be done.

Let’s say, arguendo, that I do have a concussion, what is there to do but wait and see how everything shakes out?

Plus, I’ve been to every fucking brain MRI joint in this goddamn city. I know what they all smell and sound like. I will literally walk in the door and projectile vomit.

Chad also thinks I should get one on my wrist, shoulder, and neck since all three are pretty messed up. Those I’m still considering.

The wrist one bothers me the most because, who/what am I if I can’t hold a sword again? Because, in my head, I’m a swordsman.

That’s how I define myself to myself.

I’m living in waking dreams again; remembering things from possible pasts again.

Him: You know the difference between the devil and a demon?
Me: No, tell me.
Him: The devil is a creation of god himself. He exists because god allows him to exist. But a demon is a god. It’s what the Judeo-Christians called any old god that existed prior to their god. So that’s why the devil looks like Pan, an old Roman god.
Me: So you believe in god?
Him: I believe God is an asshole. He has nothing to do with me, and I have nothing to do with him.

Always found it somewhat poetic that demons are our old gods. The things we used to worship in the past, torment us in the present.

Speaking of torment, both the kid and I getting nightmares for some reason.

Him: Sorry to wake you. I’m worried there are snakes in my room.
Me: Dude, there are no snakes in Manhattan. If you’re gonna worry about something, worry about flooding, which is an actual issue.
Him: (eyes widening in horror) We might flood again!?
Me: (fuuuuuuuuuccckkk…)

In any case, before Alison, my old gods were various pharmaceuticals and late night excursions. But she became my new god and my old gods faded away.

But I lost her and found other new gods. Then I lost those new gods as well

I honestly wonder if I made one up completely or if she was real. Told you once that my insomnia means that I can even remember things that never happened, people that never existed.

Coupled with a possible concussion, I’m lucky I remember my own name these days. And my old gods/demons are back as if they never left, even though the devil has.

Then again, I have one shiny new god I adore in the form of a tiny human.

Him: Halloween was last week! You mean, “See them for Thanksgiving!?”
Me: I said, “Halloween?”
Him: Yes! You’re being silly, papa!
Me: So, I am. It’s time for bed.
Him: (quietly) Don’t go. Please. I’m scared.
Me: What are you afraid of?
Him: I don’t know. (thinking) What if you’re not here when I wake up?
Me: Why would you think that?
Him: [People leave].
Me: Not me. I won’t leave you. Not as long as you need me.

Location: home with the kid and Sleepy Logan
Mood: fuzzy
Music: I really wanna know, who the fuck are you? (Spotify)
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So Boring

Dealing with the aftermath

It’s been a strange few weeks. On the one hand, I’ve been more social than I’ve been in ages. On the other hand, I forgot how sad being social can be.

To wit, I had three women cry with me recently. One was professional – and super strange – the other two were personal. It was all quite…sad and puzzling. I suppose I’ll sort that all out and tell you about it at some point.

If I manage to sort it all out.

I’m still dealing with the aftermath of the accident. I suppose I should get my noggin checked out because, while I do want to forget things, I’m shocked at how much I’m forgetting these days. Then again, I suppose some things I wanna forget.

On that note, I met up with a physical therapist. You see, the other day, my kali coach felt I was good enough to do some stickwork with my right hand and I though I was good enough to roll with people that weren’t on my safe list.

We were both wrong.

PT Steve: Your neck is essentially fused together at two vertebrae, and almost totally straight. Your wrist’s tendons are either totally snapped off or really stretched out. And your left shoulder is completely locked. You’re going to be pretty messed up when you’re in your forties.
Me: I’m 48! And I was just in a pretty bad accident.
Him: You’re 48?! In that case, you’re actually not that bad. But yeah, you need to stop doing what you’re doing at the gym for a while.

Goddammit.

Me: Are you sure you want to go to the Haunted House by yourself?
Him: It’s fine, papa. I’m not scared.

The boy’s been incredibly social too. I recall going to two birthday parties as a kid. This kid has an event every single week and it’s exhausting.

Case in point, just this past week, he had three play dates, two birthday parties, one fall event, two late night dinners out with my friends, and brekkie with Pez and Chad just today.

And this is him being chased around by a princess.

Man, I hope he doesn’t peak at grade school.

Speaking of peaking, this UFC fighting, movie-producing, partner at a large law firm named Titus came by the gym the other day and then came by my pad for some drinks.

We met years ago at Paul’s wedding. He’s not really on social media so he only just heard about Alison recently when he stopped by.

Him: It feels like yesterday.
Me: (nodding) Alison didn’t come [to the wedding] because she was pregnant. We lost that kid, anyway. We kept losing fucking kids and then she got cancer and died. It’s all fucking bullshit. Our entire life since the day [you and I] met has been a shitshow.

Me: …and that’s what happened.
Titus: Dude, I feel like crying myself.
Me: It’s weird. It’s like I look at that past version of me and I feel sorry for him and Alison. I don’t feel like me anymore. Maybe that’s a good thing. I gotta be ok for this kid.

Paul, his wife, and his kid stopped by afterward and we all ended up going to one of my favourite local joints for a super-late midweek dinner with the kiddo.

Like I said, super social.

Titus had never seen Scenic Fights either.

Him: This is great! I’m actually buddies with the choreographer of Captain American: Winter Solider and I worked with the guys that did John Wick and Nobody.
Me: (laughing) Show them our work but tell them that we’re not jerks.

We had another Scenic Fights shoot today today, hence the early brekkie with Chad and Pez. But I’ll tell you all about that tomorrow or something.

Son: (after another late night dinner with an unexpected guest) That was fun! So many people come to see us! Will we her again?
Me: Probably not.
Him: Awwwww, why? She was so nice and pretty.
Me: I just need you, kiddo. You and me.
Him: That’d be SO BORING!
Me: (laughing) Not for me, kid. Not for me.

Location: earlier in Brooklyn, being told to say it again
Mood: rough
Music: All I need is room for you (Spotify)
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It’s 2021, dontchaknow?

Ever True

Been talking to the Heiress quite a bit. She offered to send me the full amount of the theft.

Me: What? That’s insane! No.
Her: I already cut you a check, Logan. It’s fine. It’s just money.

I didn’t take it, though. Although, that was before the flood.

After the flood, she was concerned about our staying in the apartment and kindly offered to fly the boy and me down to Miami in her jet to stay at her home there for a bit.

If I wasn’t trying to keep an eye on things here, I woulda said yes.

Unfortunately, we had another misunderstanding that I’m still trying to wrap my head around. Communication is the hardest thing between any two people.

The thing is, both parties have to at least want to try and understand each other. I suppose it’s just easier to think that the other is a selfish narcissist, though.

Shame, though. Don’t meet too many smoking hot billionaires in my regular day-to-day.

Meeting the Heiress reminded me of two, very lovely, women I met way before I started this blog.

One was the daughter of a film director.

She had crashed her Lambo right before we met so she was a little banged up. Evidently, I was super nice to her, so she developed a crush on me. She told me that if I moved with her to Singapore, I would never have to work another day in my life.

Gotta say, as a 20-something, was kinda intrigued. But, I ended up saying, no. I did crash at her pad for a while before I locked down my current (flooding) pad.

Before that, I met a designer that had a good amount of success on her own, coupled with money from her father.

She also told me something along the lines of, “If you stay with me, you can just do what you want all day…as long as you love me.”

The problem was that I didn’t love her, despite all her great qualities. I didn’t love either of them.

Love’s a weird thing. There’s no rhyme or reason for why you fall in love with one person but not another.

But man, when you find love, it’s something else. I wouldn’t have given up the two women I actually loved for anything or anyone.

On that note, I spoke to the Doctor – whom I also dated in my 20s – briefly on the phone this week because I still manage one of her properties for her. Purely business but it was the first time I’d heard her voice in years. It was a head trip.

It was something a lot like love with her, but not love.

As I write this, I remember a night where Buckley and I drank with one of her uncles and he said that he would buy me a yellow Porche when we got married. I remember wondering why it had to be yellow. In hindsight, he probably had one he had to get rid of.

Lost touch with the FDD and the Designer but I last heard they were happy, as is the Doctor. That’s good.

Maybe I don’t fuck everything up.

Or maybe they’re not fucked up because they didn’t end up with me?

Don’t answer that.

Things like Porches, Lamborginis, and private jets are nice.

But I’d trade it all in a heartbeat for family and a quiet middle-class life with the boy and my person.

I came back to find that my fridge was busted.

My luck rings ever true.

Him: Well, that’s your problem right there, your motherboard burned out.
Me: The fridge has a motherboard?
Him: Yeah, man, it’s 2021, dontchaknow?

Location: a cafe, waiting for someone that was waiting for me at another cafe
Mood: suboptimal
Music: Ask me how I am, I’m getting by (Spotify)
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Breaking my own heart

Kicked outta bed

Recently, there’s been a spate of just awful news coming out about Asians getting brutally assaulted in NYC. But  I was surprised to get a phone call about one such assault that I just read about.

Her: I need some help. Is there a good time I can call you?

Turns out that she was called to be a trustee for this woman that died from her injuries from one of these beatings and wanted my legal advice. I told her that I couldn’t technically offer legal advice but I would help if I could.

After all, I don’t know where I would be myself if people didn’t try and help Alison and me.

Me: Sure. We can chat now. Let me get my headset.

I started my son in a Chinese class not too far from my house. It was oddly nerve-wracking for me but the teacher made me feel at ease.

Her: You don’t speak to your son in Chinese at home?
Me: Lady, *I* can barely speak Chinese.
Her: Well, I have to say, I’ve never met a child that didn’t speak Chinese that was so … social. He literally walked in like he knew everyone here.
Me: Yeah, that sounds like him.
Her: Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it. (laughing) Oh, during the kitchen portion, while we were pretending to make a sandwich, he made an actual one and ate it.
Me: Oh yeah, that’s definitely my kid. Sorry about that.

Note that everyone’s been calling me, not the other way around.

I point this out only because I find it funny how literally no one contacts me in the past year due to COVID but since the day I wrote that I got the vaccine, the floodgates open.

On that note, My buddy Mas stopped by to catch up and bring me out to lunch. We’ve known each other since forever.

Me: Do you talk to anyone else from back in the day?
Him: Nope, just you.
Me: I think we’re the only ones that, pretty much, look the same as we did 20 years ago.
Him: I think I look better actually. I’ve been on the carnivore diet – essentially just meat and fat with leafy greens. No carbs.
Me: Jesus. That’s even harder core than me.

He was there on the night I met Alison. Dunno if I ever told you that.

The blurry pic below is the only one I could find of Mas and me from that night – he’s in the lower right hand-corner.

It was almost exactly 13 years ago, April 7, 2008. I was just about to turn 35. It was a little after midnight when this pic was taken and I had just made out with the blonde behind me.

30 minutes later, I had her number and was walking out the door, when I met Alison McCarthy right before 1AM. She was walking in with her date, Tall Scott, but asked me to stay.

Instead, I left, but not before telling her that we’d have beautiful children someday. All these years, later, I was right about that.

Well, fuck me. I think I just broke my own goddamn heart.

Speaking of eating out with friends, someone I dated once dropped me a line unexpectedly and invited me out to dinner.

I’m super busy with life and the kid these days but it’s hard to say no to people that are just nice to you, like Mas and her. In this world, I think nice is underrated.

It helps that she’s a hot, grey-eyed, busty blonde that’s the same age as I was in the pic above, but you get my drift.

God, I’m so shallow.

Honestly, I judge alla these people that wanna hang out with a shallow, selfish, womanizing narcissist like me.

Speaking of hanging out with a fella like me, a chat with a green-eyed nurse I had recently proves that, again, I’m not – at all – equipped to deal with modern love.

Me: You know, you’re the second girl I know that had someone slap them in the face while fooling around. When did this become a thing?
Her: Did she kick him out of bed, smash his phone against the wall, and tell him to never fucking call her again?
Me: No idea. But that’s kinda hot (quickly) what you did, not what he did. (laughing) I can assure you that that’s not my thing.
Her: So, what’s your thing?
Me: You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. No girl ever does.
Her: Try me.
Me: I will. But not tonight.

Location: earlier today, asking the doorman if I was in the right place
Mood: hopeful
Music: I like the way your heart works, not cold like the others (Spotify)
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Stupid attractive

My best friend

One of the last conversations I had before COVID-19 hit was with a lawyer.

I’d gone to his office and one of his co-workers was stupid attractive. We walked out together.

Me: Hard to believe someone could be that attractive and that successful.
Him: She kind of annoys me, actually. She’s always dressing way too inappropriately for work.
Me: (stopping) Wait, you just a had a kid, yeah?
Him: Yeah, why?
Me: Well, there’s a weird quirk in relationships where couples in secure, happy relationships get turned off by third parties like attractive people, because they view it as a threat to what they consider the most valuable thing they have, the relationship.
Him: Whoa, that’s it exactly.

Think that’s why I never came close to cheating on anyone I’ve ever dated. I just never had an interest.

My buddy swears he saw me kissing someone at Mouse’s birthday party. But that’s just not in my nature. Other people are fine with it but then again, they reap what they sow, I suppose.

I may be a womanizer but, when it comes to an actual relationship, I’m all in.

Alison’s best friend was this guy named Shawn. She cut him off completely when he said something rude about me. I remember being so flattered and she just thought it was weird that I made such a big deal about it.

Me: He was your best friend.
Her: (rolls eyes) You’re my best friend, Logan.

Full disclosure, when Alison got sick, Shawn somehow found out about it and still sent her a large check to try and help. It’s hard to dislike someone that is nice to someone you love.

To know her was to love her.

On a related matter, I got a really sweet email the other day from one of Alison’s grad school buddies.

ABFF: Oh, her? I’m surprised because I recall that she was in love with a guy that was in love with Alison.
Me: (laughing) Alison never told me that and this girl certainly didn’t mention it.
Her: Yeah, she was jealous and maybe even had a fight with Alison over this guy? Because everyone always had some sort of real or hidden crush on Alison and so she was jelly
Me: I believe it.

My son was once going to be named Jack.

But this guy Jack kept asking her out, even when she said she and I were dating so that ruined the name for both of us. She told him to knock it off at this Halloween party with the ABFF; Alison actually shoved him against the wall.

I remember thinking I wanted to yell, “Yeah that’s right, she’s with me!” But I figured that would be too douchey.

I always liked the name Jack. I named one of the main characters in my book Jack because I liked it so much.

Spoke to Rain recently as well.

Him: You need to find someone that thinks you’re great. Like, I look at my wife and worry that I’m in a dream and I’ll wake up and find out it’s all imaginary.
Me: You know how you know this is real? I’m in it. And you hate me.
Him: (laughs)
Me: I don’t think people are lucky enough to find someone that thinks you’re made of awesome twice in life. I know I’m not the greatest thing on the planet; it’s just nice when someone thinks you are. We both married up.
Him: (nodding) Definitely. We definitely did.

It’s selfish, I know, but I miss having someone (not so) secretly on my side.

Really, though, I should just try and meet someone that thinks my son is the greatest thing on the planet.

Now, how hard could that be?

Podcast Version: Stupid Attractive
Location: my empty apartment, with the last jar of peanut butter
Mood: accepting that I’m not the one
Music: Why do you have to go and make things so complicated (Spotify)
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Halloween 2019

Particular Street

I’d meant to post this a while ago but life kept getting in the way.

Do you remember that story that I told you about Alison taking one last October walk before she gave birth in 2015?

I accidentally found myself there with the boy, right before Halloween.

After I accepted being there – part of me wanted to just take the long way around – I told him all about how much Alison loved walking down it.

Him: (surprised) Mommy was here?
Me: Yup. She loved this street.

It was the first time I’d been there since just before he was born.

Handled it pretty well, I think, all things considered. Although the boy has a way with words that seem to cut me even though he doesn’t mean to.

Him: Will she come back in a 100 years?
Me: No. She won’t.
Him: Because she’s in heaven?
Me: If there is a heaven, you can bet she’s there.
Him: (thinking) Maybe she’s with your papa.
Me: (nodding, laughing) I would think so.

And the holidays begin…

Location: right near Central Park
Mood: sick?
Music: I have often walked down the street before
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Another side of me

Hiding who we really are

I like Greek myths because they spoke something to the young me. They still do.

In one myth, Apollo once swore to his half-mortal son that he would do anything he wanted because he loved him. So his son said that he wanted to see Apollo as he truly was.

Apollo, the sun god, knew that no mortal – even a half-deity – could look directly at him and survive. But he promised his son.

Promises are serious business. Perhaps moreso between fathers and sons.

So Apollo put on his darkest attire and his smallest rays and let his son see him as he truly was.

The son didn’t survive.

Suppose that Apollo hoped that the son would survive for the obvious reason but also because, hiding who you truly are is lonely.

There are parts of me that I only allude to or don’t mention at all. Not to you, not to anyone. There are things about me that friends I’ve known for over 20 years don’t know about me.

I’m not trying to hide anything per se. I just like to keep some parts of my private life private, whenever possible. Because I don’t think one group is ready to see me the way another group sees me.

Him: I didn’t know that about you.
Me: (shrugging) I know. It’s just part of who I am.

I don’t fit neatly into many boxes.

Suppose it’s related to my quest to satisfy the three things that Cellini said made a well-rounded man: Art, violence, and philosophy.

After all, we all have our three lives: Public, private, and secret.

It’s odd, in some ways, you are my reeds; things I tell my secrets to, but only in passing. It’d be nice to have someone that I could show all the parts of me to but it’s never happened. It’s come close, but never actually happened.

Doubt if it ever will – or if we’re even designed for such a thing.

CPK: It’s funny, we’ve known each other for years, but this is the first time we’ve ever spoken.
Me: I prefer it that way. Everyone has their sad stories, although some are sadder than others.

Still, every once in a while, I let people see some other facet of me, like when I told you about the GDPR lecture I gave last year, which I suppose goes into the philosophy section.

Or like in this video below, which is solidly in the violence category. I don’t think I’ve ever shown you this side of me:

On an un/related note, my coach Chad – the fella in the video with me – and I both legally changed our names the other day. Which is odd because we’re both on this video above with our old names.

He’s now Chad Andrew Vaźquez and I’m…well, I’m sure you’ll figure it out someday but you can just keep calling me Logan Lo here and in the videos moving forward.

After all, change takes time. I’ll tell you in time.

Speaking of time, 18 years ago I thought I saw the most horrific thing I’d ever see.

I was wrong.

Life has an endless supply of horrors, which itself, is horrifying.

Location: under a highway, trying to get away from a woman
Mood: conflicted
Music: been waiting for you for the whole week

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Every dozen years or so

Captain RedStar

I’m always surprised who reads my blog. But I’m realizing that people don’t fully know that these entries tend to lag my real life.

Mouse and I are seeing each other regularly but things are still decidedly complicated.

Which leads to this conversation, as my buddy thought I was upset with her:

Pac: Mouse is coming. Don’t be a b___h.
Me: What am I, nine? It’s fine. Plus, you know I always like to see her.

We were heading out to crash an acquaintance’s birthday party. He had it at the Bohemian Beer Garden – which I last went to almost exactly a dozen years ago with two friends, one of whom I’ll tell you about below.

Bought two pitchers of beer for $40. You don’t get that in Manhattan.

I should go there every dozen years or so. It’s a fun time.

Afterward, we stopped by the SVL Bar for some killer Greek food because we were in Astoria, which is known for it’s Greek food.

Cashier: Do you eat a lot?
Me: Uh, yeah.
Her: Then you should get the party platter.
Me: Done. (later) It’s on me, fellas. Just eat.

Then we went to another bar where Mouse bought drinks for us and we saw the Shevchenko vs Carmouche fight.

It was midnight when we called it.

Me: Are you coming by mine afterward for a drink?
Her: (thinking) Yes.
Me: You know I’m crazy about you and I’m gonna make a pass at you, right?
Her: Yes.
Me: OK.

I met Kirk Akahoshi in real life and on LiveJournal ages ago, when he was still Captain Redstar.

He’s the fella in the black. He’s younger than me. I was…33/34 in that pic?

He moved out to Cali a while ago, started a business, met a nice girlie, and got hitched.

He also got Stage 4 Pancreatic Cancer. Which is horrifying enough so I’ll stop here, lest I cheapen the whole matter.

But I’ve been following him and another good friend of mine that ALSO has Stage 4 Pancreatic Cancer.

Man, cancer hits anyone, anywhere, any age. Don’t think you’re safe, man. You’re not. No one’s safe.

It’s all just shitty luck and tears.

I’ll tell you about my other friend in a bit; still processing it all.

In the meanwhile, if you have a buck to spare, consider shooting it Kirk’s way.

Location: this past weekend, Brighton Beach
Mood: hard to describe
Music: If you make it all wrong, then I’ll make it all right

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