Tag: nostalgia

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personal

Thought of kindly

Location: in fronta three screens all damn day
Mood: drained
Music: not sleeping, cold wind blowing in the middle of the night

Green arrow traffic signal in NYC

Spent the last four days cranking on a project. Just submitted it to the client a sec ago. So here I am with you, like old times.

Spoke to another old friend used to see every day. Lost touch, as things go. She had some static that I heard about so dropped her a line.

Her: Y’know, you gave me advice about things that I tell people to this day.
Me: Like what?
Her: (thinking) Well, a long time ago, I used to have to walk through this sketch alley to get home so I carried a knife with me. You told me to carry a small metal pen instead and showed me how to use it. I’ve been telling people that for years.
Me: (laughing) No kidding!
Her: (laughing) Yep. Plus I tell all my girlfriends so there’s a group of women here in San Fran that carry metal pens, all because of you.

Recalled another girl that dropped me a note a while ago thanking me for something I wrote once. Suppose it’s like that Donne poem, y’know – islands and all of that.

Funny how the things we say and do live on beyond our memory of them. It’s good t’be thought of kindly.

YASYCTAI: Call up an old friend for no real reason. (45 mins/1 pt)

Categories
personal

Technically…

My memory serves me far too well

Bar at the Soho Grand in NYC

Brother: Remember when he says, Now everybody’s talking about this new decade – that was 20 years ago.
Me: Yeah I remember. Was a freshman in college.
Him: (laughing) Well, now it the start of a new decade again.
Me: Technically next year’s the start of a new decade.

Nuthin exciting to tell you about the past week. The lady and I went out for a fine dinner and were in bed by the time the ball dropped.

What’d you do for 1999? Don’t recall it at all myself. Hafta add that to my lista fuzzy memories.

This time however, woke up early the next day to see the rents – they showed the lady picturesa me when I was a fatty-fat-fat.

Had to drop off the car; too expensive to keep a car in the city these days so that was onea the things that had to go for 2010.

Wrestled with a kid that was born the year I went to college. Demolished me, course. Spent the resta the weekend popping ibuprofen. Did manage to have a drink at the Soho Grand.

The “00s” are ending and the “10s” re beginning. It’s a sobering thought but I’ll never see the “00s” again.

Him: Technically, every year’s the start of a new decade. It’s like that Mitch Hedberg joke when a guy says to him, Lemme show you a picture of me when I was younger. And he goes, Technically, every picture of you’s a picture of you when you was younger.

Today, start working at an office for more scratch.

Still eat-what-you-kill but with a better view.

Lotsa changes for this new decade.

I’m still around, though. See you Thursday.

Location: a law firm off Grand Central
Mood: excited
Music: Don’t you know that the years will come and go? (Spotify)

Categories
personal

You will

Location: my usual black chair
Mood: groggy
Music: a year? In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee


Me: You mean you watch the whole thing? Y’don’t just fast forward to the action?
Him: No, I want to hear the plot.
Me: Plot?! There’s no plot; it’s always something like: guy shows up to deliver pizza, girl steps outta the shower, and oh, she has no money to pay him. What to do? What to do? Oh my! I’ve appeared to drop my towel…
Him: (laughing) I still like to see what happens.
Me: Y’know what happens – nuthin that ever happens in real life, that’s what happens. Grand thespians, they’re assuredly not.
———-
Been looking at a bunch of ebook readers lately for myself.

In NYC, the average rent is $30-35 per square foot per year. A bookshelf takes up about a three square feet of space. I would need three for all of the books I got. That’s a nine square foot footprint, or $270-$315 a year for rent just to keep my books.

Ergo, ebook reader.

The issue is that all of the screens’re too small. Don’t wanna have to get surgery on my eyes to repair them to save $270-$315; that makes no sense. The Kindle DX has a huge screen but no way to zoom; the iRex reader has a huge screen and zoom but’s crazy expensive and dim.

So, looks like I gotta wait.

Hate waiting for the future to come. According to television, we were supposta all get jet cars by now.

And television never lies.

———-

Then again – was 20 when those ads in the vid above first came out.

Funny thing is that every single onea those things the guy said turned true.

In fact, I’ve done all but threea those things he said.

Listen to the voice, know who he is?

YASYCTAI: Be hopeful. You’ll live longer. And happier. (525,600 minutes /3 pts)
www.loganlo.com

Categories
personal

Lovely Tupperware

Location: 23:00 yest, with a large knife in my small bathroom
Mood: ill
Music: Too late for the young gun This is the year of the knife

(c) bernard chatreau

Old NYC graffti subway car by bernard chatreau

Me: That’s not how it looks.
Her: How does it look?
Me: At dusk, the 7 train would be packed with Asian teenagers. That’s totally fake.

Just saw the remake of Pelham 123 – the last scene shows someone riding the 7 train pretty much by his lonesome. The 7 train, in the early evening, is never that empty. Moreover, even when it is slightly empty, there’s always a dozen or so Asian teenagers on board at any given time.

I should know, I was onea them growing up.

1 hour 14 minutes into the film, there was a single shot of an Asian for a second.

Not onea those Asian activists – in fact this may be my only post in three years that even discusses what I am and not who I am – but it does bug me when we’re completely figuratively whitewashed outta of a movie.

Then again, it doesn’t really matter to me. Cause film’s all fantasy anywho. Reality is, we’re all up in this joint.

Funny thing is, who’s fantasy is it where you see onea us for only a second?

Have you met us? We’re lovely.

And when you order food from us, we give you tupperware.

———-

Me: Got a small abscess in my leg like last time and just spent the last 20 minutes digging it out with a knife and toothpicks. Question, do I have to keep hacking at my leg until I see blood?
Him: You may be the dumbest smart person I know.

Word of advice: If you find yourself low on rum, with a painful wound, a large hunting knife, several toothpicks, some gauze and alcohol, it’s never rarely a good idea to do self-surgery. A conference with the Professor indicates that perhaps the wrong course of action was chosen.

I’m my own worst enemy, a danger to myself. In other news, I’ll be visiting the pharmacy tomorrow. Purpose: Painkillers and antibiotics.

Said we’re lovely, never said we’re particularly bright. I mean, we’ll stomp all over that curve but still…

YASYCTAI: If you had to, would you know how to take care of a wound? If not, pick up a book. (120 mins/1 pt)

Categories
business personal

Affected

My year still begins in September

An alfresco restaurant in downtown NYC.

My phone’s been ringing again. Nuthin steady, nuthin huge, a trickle, really. But it’s something. And after months of nuthin, something’s good.

It’s a bit odd, to be busy again with things for pure monetary exchange. The humdrum of work again.

But it’s a good thing; the cadence of waking up, making coffee – for two oftentimes – PB&J; or oatmeal, Good Morning America, and then…work?

Well, it’s hardly work yet. But it’s something.

Always said that my year begins in September. The rhythm of regularity. Am looking forward to it now more than in years.

It’s weird, to be excited for the coming monotony.

———-

September 11th again. Has it been eight years already?

Someone told me that I dwell too much on it considering I wasn’t “affected.”

Didn’t know what to say, so I changed the subject. How can one explain what it’s like?

Location: same black chair; different room
Mood: busy
Music: Got me affected, spun me 1-80 degrees

Categories
personal

More Cowboys

Me on a toy

 

Me: Hey, step outside with me for a sec.
Him: Sure. What’s up?
Me: Just wanted to say thanks. When I was going through my breakup, thoughta what you told me about your divorce. How you came back one day to find an empty house. Was nice knowing that you survived the blow.
Him: (grinning) Glad I could help.
Me: Y’know, actually hoped it was you she was seeing behind my back. (laughing) Least you’re a decent fella, a successful lawyer and not half-bad looking.
Him: (laughing) Com’on, I think our ladies’re waiting.

Now, where were we?

A while back, wrote about cowboys. Seems every seven years, you lose more than half of your friends. The person you think of as your best friend only has a 30% chance of staying in that role.

One guy that made the cut was my buddy Steel; he got hitched in Central Park this past weekend. Appetizers included whole lobsters. That was the appetizer. Need to get invited to more weddings like that.

Steel’s like all of my good friends. Never really see them; we don’t interact much. But he knows that I’m onea the few people in the world he can always count on and vice versa. We’re different races but the same people.

That’s one of the main things about the Jaycee Dugard case makes me ill. Cause in addition to all of the sick things she had to go through – and they were seriously sick – she didn’t have her people. She didn’t have a family or friends. Real ones, I mean. What a terribly lonely way to go through life. Couldn’t sleep causa it.

Yet another reason, think I’m blessed – our dumb luck.

Speaking of blessed, thanks for the concern but said I was coming back, didn’t I?

If you read me, gotta think that there’s a good chance you’re onea my people too, yeah? Let’s face it, this is hardly an interesting blog and I’m not a scantily clad chick. But I suppose you read cause something I say makes sense to you.

Ergo, we gotta stick together.

Clumsy, geeky, optimistic dreamers’re rarer than y’might think in this world.

Lobster in Central Park!
Steel getting married

Location: 16:00 yest, my kitchen floor, scrubbing
Mood: concerned
Music: Just like every cowboy sings his sad, sad song

Categories
personal

…blue sea

Location: 22:00, yest, scrubbing my cellar
Mood: thoughtful
Music: there’s reason to believe Maybe this year will be better than the last

View of NYC from the Hudson.

Just found out an ex had another kid. A boy. And Germany’s on my mind again.

And other ghosts from my past keep making appearances.

Him: You’re so naive, Logan.
Me: The difference between you and me, is that I think people’re inherently bad, but can do great things. You think people’re inherently good – but y’like knowing how dirty they can become.
Him: (laughing) Alla these Europeans and Americans so pissed off about their white Christian children dying in Iraq and Somalia for brown Muslim babies; they got no problem saving white Muslim babies in Bosnia or Serbia. But man, brown ones? They go nuts. That is, until they can’t afford their plasma TVs.
Me: Enough…
Him: Why? Cause you know I’m right? The saying goes that, the things that piss you off the most (lowers voice) are the things you know, in your heart, are true.

There’s another saying that goes, it’s always a choice Between the Devil and the deep…

View of NYC from the Hudson.

(c) Aki Muira


YASYCTAI: Have a relaxing fourth of July if you’re on my side of the world. Y’should have even if you’re not. (48 hours/0.5 pts)

Categories
personal

Fading

Location: my basement for the past six hours
Mood: wet
Music: she caused a scene then every head turned


328 Chauncey Street now – not my pic, not my (c)

328 Chauncey Street, home of Ralph and Alice Kramden and Edward and Trixie Norton - NOT MY COPYRIGHT

If you’ve never clicked on my music link before, y’should do it today for something pretty cool per Caffeineguy.

———-

Still cleaning my cellar. Been weeks now. Feel like Sisyphus, cept I got a broom insteada a rock. Stupid broom…

Went to a wedding this past weekend. Someone spilled wine all over my suit. White wine, but still. Least the food was good.

Speaking of food, while at Columbia U., my fave joints were Ollie’s and The Mill. Right now, Ollie’s is a chaina Chinese restaurants while The Mill’s a Korean restaurant. But fifteen years ago, Ollie’s was an Italian joint with a sprinkling of Chinese food cause they had a Chinese chef. Similarly, the Mill was a Spanish joint with a Korean cook.

A boy could get some spaghetti and some Chinese dumplings at the former and tortillas and kimchi at the latter. Now they’re full-on Chinese and Korean joints. Yeah, there’re places like Marco Polo Cafe, with trendy Italian/Chinese fusion but I don’t want fusion.

I want authentic Italian spaghetti and authentic Chinese dumplings, yeah? Not the same.

Point is, all of the stuff I know, I mean I know, keeps fading on me. Jackie Gleason was the first when I was 14.

Funny story: did y’know the Honeymooner’s wife, Alice, spoke Chinese in real life? She and her sister were raised in China so it was their secret language. One spoke it to the other and the other understood.

In a way, that’s why the fading bothers me. Cause no one remembers Ollie’s when it was knife cool. Or what 328 Chauncy Street means. Or when MJ was still black and did the moonwalk for the first time on Motown 25.

Worry that I’m gonna run outta people to tell something to and have them understand.

Then I remember that I gotta finish sweeping the cellar and then I forget.

YASYCTAI: Alla the shows with the dumb husband and the smart wife started with the Honeymooners. Y’should watch it. (22 mins/0.5 pts)

Categories
business personal

Something to me

Sunset over Hoboken, NJ pier

Sorry I’ve not posted in a while, been hella busy. Moving from one part of my building to another. Thought it’d be easy but it’s not cause one collects a great deal of – for lack of a better word – crap in 36 years. Everything has a story to it; some stories I wanna relive, some I’d rather forget.

Suppose that’s hardly news to anyone.

See that pic above? You might have seen it before. Love that pic for reasons only I and another person might know. My pastor once said that you don’t love a picture because of the paper it’s printed on. You love a picture for what it represents.

And yeah, I try to donate or toss as much of my stuff as I can. But I got some ratty things that I love, not cause they’re worth something, but cause they’re worth some thing to me. So when the guy moving in picks something up and says, Hey can you bring the garbage over so I can toss this? I reply, Oh, gimme that, I’ll toss it.

And slip it into my back pocket to put it away later, safely behind all the other crap I love, not cause it’s worth something, but cause it’s worth some thing to me.

A ball at 583 Park Avenue

Last week, went to a genuine ball. Was a fundraiser event for Helen Keller International: $1,500 a plate, auctions going for $50,000. The full nine.

Sat at a table of lawyers and next to a pretty blond. $1,500 dinners are wasted on people like me; always think, Man, I could have made that better. Probably not true but it’s my head, I get to think what I wanna.

Had this cool British auctioneer that was going nuts; made me wanna bid for something. Couldn’t though, one trip to Umbria cost like $50K.

Managed to get semi-floated in; felt I should contribute something and I did, in my own way.

On the way there and back, got caught in the rain. It’s all just peaks and valleys, isn’t it?

So, you miss me?

HKI ball at 583 Park Avenue
Christie's auctioneer at Helen Keller's 583 Park Avenue Gala
HKI Umbia auction

Location: my new(ish) room
Mood: beat
Music: been looking so long at these pictures of you (Spotify)

Categories
personal

Swept Away

Location: my living room
Mood: cautious
Music: I know exactly how he feels

Nantes, France, at dusk.

Me: You’ll meet her Friday – don’t tell me what you think of her.
Him: Don’t tell you?
Me: No. Cause I think she’s amazing and don’t wanna hear it any other way.

Friday was Paul’s B-day so we headed down to our usual joint. Some shots, some rum, some conversation. The usual NYC twirl. Bumped into a curly-haired blond downtown and she said “Excuse you,” with a big toothy smile. I smiled back politely but slipped out the door with Heartgirl by 1AM.

Her: Your friends are nice. I can see why you’re friends with them. That’s not always the case.
Me: I’m 35. (pause) Got ridda mosta the jerks by now.

Spent mosta Saturday and all of Sunday by myself. Me time is always a good time. Chatted with PCD online for a bit.

PCD: You’re like an imaginary person now.
Me: I find that both funny and sad. Why is that?
Her: Because we aren’t real life friends
Me: Because we never see each other? (thinking) I try to see things from Heartgirl’s point of view, if there was a guy she liked a lot and saw him regularly, I’d be a little peeved. (pause) She knows I’d never cheat on her. But I also told her that you were kind and good and that kind and good people we should keep around. I do consider us real friends.
Her: I know. Just have a fun vacation, ok?

———-

Her: I kind of feel that I…I just got swept up in my own life. How weird is that? To get swept away by your own life?

At the party, met a friend that was easing into single life as I was easing out. One minute, I’m 27 and walking outta the Harbor Hotel in Beijing to a waiting car wearing Valentino and a Speedmaster. The next minute, I’m 33 and out both a girlfriend and all of my scratch. Then the next hot minute, I’m here. Telling my secrets to reeds and strangers. And thinking of a girlie I didn’t know existed before 4/7/2008.

The problem with being half-asleep all of time is that reality and dreams blur. There’ve been plenty of times I thought something was something, but just turned out to be a lotta nuthin. Kinda wonder if this’ll all just turn out to be nuthin at all. Man…that would suck.

Me: Yeah, I know what you mean.

———-

Supposed to be the coldest weather here in NYC in 15 years. But I’m leaving this week for sunnier climates and’ll, thankfully, miss it.

I’ll write when I can.

YASYCTAI: Get ridda mosta your jerks. Screw em. (time/3 pts)