Norwegian Wood

Waking up in Brooklyn and Hotel Logan

Me: So what’s your story morning glory? Why do you look so blue?
Her: (pause) Wow, does that line actually work?
Me: You’re talking to me, aren’t you?
Her: (pause, laughter)

Woke up somewhere in Brooklyn yesterday.

For details, just listen to Norwegian Wood. It’s accurate up to the part that goes I told her I didn’t; instead of lighting a fire, I watched Love Actually, instead of stumbling to the bath, I slept on her sofa and instead of her, I flew.

It was a fun night but something that Sabatoa posted popped in my head at 2AM.

I never think I should take what I can; I always think I should get what I want.

You know, I never got her name or number.

But she was 29. She had hazel eyes.

———-

My female friends often crash at my pad knowing they’re as safe as houses. The local doormen think I’m on a tear. We know the truth.

Her: I made it here without you having to carry me.
Me: That’s always a plus.
Her: (in sleepy German) Will you be here when I wake?
Me: I live here – where would I go?

Location: 7AM yest, Park Slope, Brooklyn
Mood: happy & pensive
Music: We talked until two And then she said It’s time for bed
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This modern love

Modern love is like shelf-stable food; kinda real, mostly not

Note to self: 48 oz of black coffee with DayQuil in one sitting is way too much caffeine.

Way…too…much.

Pardon me as I curl up and shake myself to death.

———-

Actually posted a happy date story once. Of course that too went to hell but that’s neither here nor there. And I had two nice dates recently but one ended up as a figurative train wreck; the other, a literal car wreck.

A while back, I did see a girl I’ve was orbiting around for almost a year right before she got gone.

Me: Hey, just wondering if that invitation for lunch still open…
Her: Hi! (pause) Did you ever work through your things?
Me: (pause) In a manner of speaking.
Her: What does that mean?
Me: (thinking) There’s this river, Lethe, that the Greeks thought that, when you died, your spirit went there to drink from it so you could forget your former life and get on with your new one.
Her: Okaaay…creepy…and…
Me: (laughing) You’re trying to forget someone; I’m trying to forget someone. It’s like that song This Modern Love, Do you wanna come over and kill some time?
Her: (laughing) This has got to be worst invitation for a date I’ve had since junior high.
Me: I go for the superlative. (pause) So…you wanna come over and kill some time?
Her: (thinking) Sure.

Interestingly, in classical Greek, lethe could also mean the opposite of truth; the opposite of real.

This modern love is like lactose-free, shelf-stable, non-fat, non-dairy cream.

All the trappings of the real thing without a drop of it.

Not even a drop.

She’s a sweetheart. I hope she finds something someone real.

Location: no change, black chair
Mood: hopped up on OTC drugs & coffee
Music: modern love breaks me This modern love wastes me
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Sitting, Waiting, Wishing

Man is made by his belief. As he believes, so he is – Bhagavad Gita

Caligirl: …then there are the serial daters. The guys that are always out and about.
Me: If I were honest, I’d tell you that that’s what I’m afraid of. See, I’ve only ever been in long-term relationships. I never really dated. I think I secretly worried that I might be good at it.
Her: (turning) And?
Me: (laughing) You tell me.

——

Him: You don’t think it’s strange, to have a site with your name on it all about you? And all the stuff you write – who reads it? I mean, you’re just you. You’re just a regular dude. You’re not like a celebrity or anything.
Me: “Man is made by his belief. As he believes, so he is.
Him: What?
Me: (shrugging) It just means that in my head, I think I’m someone.

Location: still in front of this cracked screen
Mood: weird
Music: Must I always be waiting waiting on you?

You’re fun

Come back. Like I said, you’re fun.

 

Went out to eat with Rain, Furison and some other people the other night. Furison was nice enough to bring me to a place that could serve dark rum with a slice of orange. I’ve been so busy, I never thanked her. Fun and interesting.

Also interesting was the conversation I had with the Natalie Portman-like waitress before I left. I preface this conversation with the fact that I shook her hand before we spoke and she’s holding my hand throughout the entire exchange.

Her: You should come back.
Me: This is about four pay grades higher than where I normally eat. Six if I’m honest. Why?
Her: You’re fun.
Me: I’m not sure how I should take that. I suppose I should start hitting on you.
Her: (laugh) Smooth. You’re cute but…I like the girlies.
Me: (pause) No kidding. Can I convince you to swing for the other team?
Her: (thinking) Well, what if I were Brad Pitt and I asked you the same thing?
Me: Point taken, Natalie. See you around?
Her: Come back, Logan. I’m here. Like I said, you’re fun.

Then she let go of my hand and I left.

Barrel o’laughs, me. Fun Logan.

Yeah.

That’s me.

—————–

Wedding season (for me) is finally over.

Location: -3 hrs, my last wedding
Mood: sick
Music: I think I can make it now
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Ed Koch

Met another girl and Ed Koch

He was the absolute nicest guy. I also met Governor Hugh Carey and Queens Borough President Helen M. Marshall but it was more interesting for me to meet Koch because he was the mayor I remember from childhood.

Look terrible but I’m jazzed. It’s a pretty cool gig.

It’s blurry in my head, but the picture’s clear, so I know it happened.

Sometimes I’m not sure.

I’m sleepwalking through my life again.

——————

Whether or not I join a board (and I put up a profile just to see and it’s getting weird already), I’m sure I’ll still be able to entertain you with my offline ridiculousness.

Me: I’m sorry, where’s the bathroom?
Her: Around the corner there. See the sign?
Me: What sign?
Her: That sign, the sign with the little guy where it says “Men.”
Me: Oh, I’m sorry. I’m still learning to read. I’m up to “X” though, so I’m almost there.
Her: (pause, confused, then laugh) Smart-ass.
Me: (laugh) You’re a little argumentative.
Her: No I’m not!
Me: (pause) Yes…you’re not argumentative at all.

She asked me for a card. I told her I didn’t have one. Really didn’t.

Plus, she wasn’t my type and I’m just too tired to even attempt to be entertaining.

I need to sleep.

Location: in my childhood bed
Mood: cranky
Music: I’m not the man they think I am at home
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72nd to Canal Episode 1 – Part 3

I’m good for other things. “Like what?” she asked.


Thanks to everyone for watching our 72nd to Canal and spreading the word. We really appreciate it!

Met three women tonight at a party I went to with Hazel. One is a story for much later, if at all. The other two:

Brooklyngirl
Her: She your girlfriend?
Me: No dear, I love someone who doesn’t love me.
Her: Whoa, that’s a lot of…(hic).
Me: Excuse me?
Her: Sorry, I have the hiccups.
So, because I was pretty lit, I put my rum down, turned and kissed her.
Her: (surprised) Why’d you do that?
Me: Are the hiccups gone?
Her: (pause, laughing) Yes.
Me: Well then, you can buy me another rum then.

Dancergirl
Me: So you’re from New Jersey? Are you a vegetarian?
Her: I’ve NEVER been asked that before. No, but would it matter?
Me: (shrugging) Not even close.
Her: So what’s your story?
Me: I’m a pretty, straight boy in NYC looking to drink until I forget things. You?
Her: (thinking) I’m a pretty, straight girl in NYC looking to drink. Buy me one?
Me: No. I’m not that guy. But I’m good for other things.
Her: Like what?

I would say more but let’s leave it to your imagination.

Location: about to get ready to run in park
Mood: sleepy
Music: If I don’t get some shelter, oh yeah, I’m gonna fade away
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72c Promos – The Little Guy

The Standard conversation of New York

You know the drill – try and make it if you can.

A thank you to Jaerik and So_yun for some very undeserved kindness I will tell you about when I don’t have a fifth of rum in me.

It’s been quite a week; good and bad. I should write more of it but I’m beat and bending time. I will.

Got back to the city tonight and Hazel called me and asked me I wanted to go out with her and 13 women. Who am I to say no?

Wish there was some story to tell you besides countless instances of the Standard (“Who do you know, what do you do, where are you from, blah, blah, blah”) from me and to me.

There isn’t.

Still, whenever I do the Standard two or more times in one night, I know that I should go home and go to bed. Must have done it more than half-a-dozen times tonight. You should try to avoid it, as should I.

I should also try and get used to being in my bed by myself.

I’ll try.

Location: @2:30AM, 118 10th Ave, explaining why
Mood: exhausted
Music: I wish you’d take a walk in my shoes for a start

A Billion Miles of Fate and Luck

What is life but a bunch of random meetings?

(c) A Lo

I once randomly met a woman I dated for over a year at a cocktail party on 76th Street.

Met another woman who stood outside a phone booth in Columbia waiting to make a phone call.

Met yet another one who sat on a park bench north of Astor Place.

And I met Blue Jean Eyes in a random class in a random school at a random moment in my, admittedly, random life.

That last one ended just as randomly the other day. I think. There’s definitely something about her and me that I just can’t put my finger on. While it takes two people to get into a relationship, it only takes one to get out of it.

But you knew that.

I’m ok, though. I was hoping for a nice summer at least but you take life as it comes. She’s great. I wish her only every good thing.

As for me, I’ve dusted myself off, gave Gio and the guys a call and got out and about. Had a weekend that I barely remember and a Monday night in front of another blue-eyed girl who told me I was having a great time.

I laughed.

I read once that the Universe expands by a billion miles in all directions every hour.

Isn’t the intersection of fate and luck fascinating?

Well, sad and disappointing at times, but fascinating nonetheless.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Location: @8:30 yesterday, dinner at the Manhattan Diner
Mood: Sick
Music: Hey Lloyd, I’m ready to be heartbroken

Morning Glory

So, what’s your story, morning glory; what makes you look so blue?

The beauty of never having drunk seriously since high school is that I’ve managed to (I think) look better than my age and have not a gut.

The flip side of it is that I’m meeting up with inebriated Logan again for the first time since 1995.

And he’s got stuff to say.

I’m already fairly friendly and outgoing when I’m sober. Drunk, I’m your best friend.

So, what’s your story, morning glory; what makes you look so blue?

Location: @3AM, sloshing home
Mood: mellow
Music: I’ll take myself to an east coast city and walk about

Wash, lather, repeat

Getting back into the dating world

So, what’s your name pretty lady? (smile, nod, ask if she gets hit on a lot, compliment her (eyes, skin, hair, etc.) ask for number, promise you’ll call, smile again, wash, lather, repeat).

“Olivia, that’s a great name. You’re the first Olivia I’ve ever met. It’s true. Really. Is that really your number? You’re pretty but you lie. I’m going to call it now. (grin – if she smiles at you, smile back. Hate self.).”

At least I’m impressing my friends, like a trick monkey.

Ah, I’ll meet you someday, just you wait. Fate will find you. I’m just working through a few things.

Just you wait.

Location: Bed
Mood: cynical
Music: She does not walk she runs instead
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