Tag: NYC

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The other shoe

Aware of how things work

Her: I guess I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Me: Do you know where that saying came from? It came from packed tenement housing here in NYC back in the day. Mothers would put their kids to sleep and, late at night, a labourer would come home and loudly drop their shoe in the apartment, waking up the kids and making life hell for the family below them. But the worst part was when they took their time taking off the other shoe. These exhausted women would sit in their apartment, rocking their crying kid, and screaming in their heads, “Just drop the other fucking shoe already!”
Her: (thinking) You should be on a game show.
Me: I was.

The Firecracker came by the other night for dinner and I made some Fish Meunière, with cauliflower rice and a salad, which she seemed to enjoy.

Her: That was really good! (later) Although, I would have done a better job.
Me: What the hell?
Her: (laughing) I cook, Logan! When you make dinner for women that don’t cook, they’re gonna think that everything you make is great.
Me: (grumble)

Like I said, there was something familiar about us to each other but, at least, she figured out part of the reason I was familiar to her.

But I’ll tell you that part in a sec.

She also has a dog, but a very small one. That’s more of an issue than anything else.

First, I gotta say that having someone you’re dating live ten minutes from your pad is a game-changer.

Mainly, because we can do last-minute, unplanned things like lunch at the local diner.

Which is what we did the next day when I went over to her pad and chilled out while she got ready.

Her: I gotta blow-dry. It’s gonna get loud.
Me: I’m aware of how blow dryers work.
Her: I’m just telling you!

While she was getting ready, we just made some small talk as we were still getting to know each other.

Her: Which one?
Me: (laughing) Cash Cab.
Her: Cash Cab?! I loved that show! Really?
Me: Yeah, Google “Logan and Masa on Cash Cab.”

She did exactly that and, presently, I was in this stranger’s apartment watching myself on her television while she got ready.

It was all very surreal.

Her: I remember that episode! I remember you!
Me: Get outta town.
Her: No, really, I remember that episode and watching it. I swear I thought you looked familiar.
Me: That’s nuts.
Her: The first stop after I brush my teeth is your face.
Me: Good first stop.

The actual lunch was a bit nuts. We had just sat down and ordered at my local diner when I got word that I had to grab my son earlier than expected.

Me: I’m so sorry, I gotta dine and dash.
Her: No problem. Do you want me to drop it off later?
Me: Sure!

But after I got the boy, he asked for a playdate with onea his friends.

Me: You just got back!
Him: Please?!

So, I rang his friend’s dad, who told me to drop him off for a couplea hours.

Then I dashed back to see the Firecracker, who was still sitting having a cup of coffee.

Her: Hey, you’re back.
Me: I’m back. (thinking) Man, I shoulda thrown a scene, tossed a few things around, and then come back sheepishly apologizing.
Her: (laughs) Just sit down and eat.
Me: Done. I’m starving.

One of the earliest entries I ever wrote in this blog was a philosophical question as to the nature of hope.

Was/Is it the ultimate good or the ultimate evil?

After everything, I think it’s the latter. Hope brings us to such great heights, only to have us fall and almost crush us. The greater the hope, the greater the fall.

Every time I think, This time, it’ll be different, I’m always shown that it’s not.

And so, I try my best to just live and not hope any more. As much as any human can do, anywho.

Suppose I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop, cause it always does.

But as much as I try not to hope that my life might possibly be different, I can’t help but do it.

And that just makes everything worse.

Location: earlier today, waiting in the rain with the boy for the next train to Manhattan
Mood: exhausted
Music: everything looks perfect from far away, come down now (Spotify)
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This is going well

Hello, Firecracker

I don’t write about most of my dates these days because social media in 2023 is a lot different than in was in 2006 and people get annoyed, even if there’s no real identifying information.

But also because they all start blending together into that soupy grey I dislike so much.

The same, “So, what do you do, who do you know, blah, blah, blah,” gets monotonous.

Me: So, Jane, what brought you to New York?
Her: Ann. My name is Ann.
Me: (nodding) This is going well.

But every so often, someone cuts through the hazy grey and gives me some colour.

I cancelled two other dates this week, although one was kinda mutual, but something about the blue-eyed blonde from my neighborhood made me not, despite my not feeling the best, what with all the medical issues popping up.

Plus, she really made everything super easy for me by agreeing to meet up at a bar just a few blocks south of my pad.

She was sitting at the bar in red with her back to me when I showed up. The seat next to her was open so I slid into it.

She turned to me and looked at me with eyes the colour of faded blue jeans. And you know I’ve always loved that.

We both looked at each other and laughed.

Her: (smiling) Hi, Logan!
Me: (laughing) Hello, Firecracker. Don’t you look nice.
Her: You too.

With some dates, conversation’s a struggle.

The actual exchanges are usually fine but it’s really the quality of the segues that make a conversation interesting or desultory.

Lemme tell you that the odds are much improved when someone has an easy laugh and upbeat enthusiasm.

Confidence helps…

Her: (mischievously) Anything you want to tell me?
Me: I take it you found the blog?
Her: (laughing) It’s the first thing that showed up when I googled you.
Me: (shrugging) I never mention it because it’s so easy to find.
Her: You date a lot.
Me: (nodding) I do. I like to say that I’m like Harvard. Anyone can apply, not everyone makes the cut.

..but like I’ve always said, the truth is a powerful thing. And true things are often funny and earnest at the same time.

Her: I’m like this dorky girl that’s attractive
Me: (chidingly) Ah, you admit you’re hot.
Her: Oh yeah, I’m hot.

Actually brought her to the same two bars that I brought my buddy, the Frenchman. Just because it was familiar and easy.

Too much of my life, lately, has been strange and difficult.

Me: Do you want to go to another bar?
Her: So, I take it this is going well?
Me: This is going well. (shaking head) Shit, I’m in trouble.
Her: Because I’m a buxom blonde?
Me: Well, yes. And you’re sweet. I like kindness. Kindness is hot because douchebag is forever.

I told her to eat the dried lime. That was a huge mistake.

We first met up at 7PM and didn’t call it a night until 3AM. Those are the types of interactions I hope for and it’s so rare it happens.

Even when it does, it doesn’t really mean anything.

Her: You’re an onion. [Every time I think I get you, there’s another layer.]
Me: I’ll take that as a compliment. (later) Thanks for a lovely evening.
Her: Same.
Me: I honestly never do this but…I don’t suppose you want to grab dinner [this week]?
Her: (smiling) Sure. It’s a date. Goodnight, Logan Lo.
Me: (nodding) Goodnight, Firecracker.

But hope springs eternal.

Location: earlier today, wondering if 9AM’s too early for a burger on Broadway. It wasn’t.
Mood: cautious
Music: me and luck had a dance but when it comes to you and me: No guts, no glory (Spotify)
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Another (almost) trip to the ER

It’s a date

On the night I taught the class, I took a heel to my forehead from one of the guys and saw stars.

The guy was apologetic – it was an accident, after all – but he’s been pretty wild before. I did manage to get the tap after we resumed so there’s that.

Fast forward a few days and I woke up with some eye irritation and a lot of floaters so my doctor brother strongly suggested that I get that looked at.

Didn’t wanna go back to the ER for the millionth time so I called a buncha places with no luck but then I found a place just a few blocks south of my pad on W 79th. They closed in 40 mins.

Receptionist: When can you get here?
Me: 20 mins? Less, maybe.
Her: Run!

So, I did.

Before I knew it, I was on the ground floor of a beautiful townhouse and getting stuff pointed and sprayed into my eye.

Honestly, I’m thrilled that I managed to find him versus having to head to the ER. And within walking running distance to boot.

Some 40 minutes later, I was being checked out. I was the last patient of the day so the doc and I got to talking.

Turns out that we had a lot in common as I shared what happened with my dad and Alison.

Him: You’ll be fine. No detached retina. The floaters will be a problem for a while but not much to do there.
Me: That’s a relief.
Him: I’m glad we met. Come back for a checkup in 4-6 weeks and we’ll chat some more.
Me: Sure thing, doc.

He dilated my pupils so getting home was an adventure in itself.

Almost got hit by a car more than once. It was like walking outside and staring right at the sun. Had something similar happen before I started writing this blog.

Maybe I’ll tell you about it sometime.

Driver: WTF is wrong with you?! Are you @#$@# blind?
Me: Well, yeah, actually…

Speaking of beautiful things in my neighborhood, there’s this effervescent blonde from my neighborhood that I met recently.

She found something familiar about me and I, her.

Her: You really are so easy on the eyes.
Me: My mom thinks I’m dreamy.
Her: She has good taste.

After the GES all those years ago – and the fact that I had to avoid my fave bar for a few years because I kept running into women I dated there – I had a rule to not date women in my area.

GES was the last one, and that was 16 years ago.

edit: Actually, the Aerialist was the last one but that was so quick that I forgot about it.

But I’m trying some new things these days. Plus, her particular charms helped encourage me to break my rule(s).

The kicker was that she lived steps from the doc.

Her: I can meet you for a drink [that] evening. We can keep it local since it’s convenient for both of us.
Me: Perfect. Let’s do that. We’ll work out details today/tomorrow but it’s a date.
Her: Those are three magical words: “It’s a date.” So full of possibilities.

Location: earlier today, W 77th and Broadway, making plans
Mood: good
Music: a chance, it’s worth taking (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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Mortise locks

Locked outta the gym

Watching either my BJJ or kali instructor do their thing is always something impressive. It’s like they can read your mind and know what you’re going to do before you do.

It really just comes with experience and knowing what’s possible versus what’s probable. The longer you do something, the more you see what the likely outcomes to things are.

I’ve run my building for decades now. Think I first told you about it some 16 years ago but, really, I’ve been managing buildings with my dad since the 90s. Did my first big deal when I was a senior in high school.

Kinda like Trump and his dad but without the greed, lying, and closeted racism.

Because of that, I’ve seen the same mistakes happen time and time again.

One thing I’ve had the worst luck with is a specialized lock called a mortise lock. Up until recently – I’m guessing due to things AirBnB and people wanting higher-end stuff – it wasn’t very common here in the US but is super common in Europe.

Except in NYC where almost every building has these goddamn things.

They’re elegant but very confusing to people that have never used one before. Because one single lock with one single key controls three different types of locking mechanisms on a door; a single mortise locks:

      1. the knob itself
      2. a deadbolt built into the lock, and
      3. the latching lock.

To make things even more complicated, there’s an internal toggle that switches on the knob lock (number 4 in the diagram below). So, let’s just say that there are three “locks” in this single lock.

They’re mechanically beautiful and like most beautiful things, troublesome.

(c) Bella Maximum Security

It’s hard to explain but if you’re ever in NYC, just go to any old building and check out the locks. Chances are good, it’s a mortice lock.

Anywho, when Chad and I opened up the gym, I knew that this lock was gonna cause us problems.

I cannot tell you how many times I’ve had to return to NYC after being in NJ with Alison or the reporter (who also lived in NJ) because someone got locked out due to one of the three locking systems of the mortise lock locking a tenant outta their pad.

So, I hooked up this very elegant wifi enabled lock to bypass the mortise lock entirely in the gym with the kicker being that we could unlock the lock anywhere in the world.

But the students kept yanking at the wifi lock, because it’s oddly shaped and some people thought it was a handle, breaking it.

Super frustrating.

Chad was mindful of costs, which I understand, and didn’t wanna replace the wifi lock and I was too busy to fight him on the matter.

Unfortunately, he got COVID earlier this week so people had to cover class. That part was fine. The issue arose when one of our buddies, Thundercat was helping around in the gym and locked all three of the locking mechanisms on the mortise and also locked the deadbolt we had the wifi lock attached to.

Obviously, he was trying to be helpful so it’s not like he did anything wrong per se. But since we never used the mortise, no one had a key for it.

Long story short, about 10 people, including my kali instructor, were standing outside for over an hour waiting for Chad – who was still sick with COVID and had to schlepp all the way from his warm bed – to come by with the one key necessary to open the lock. Poor guy.

He went up alone because he had COVID, and didn’t realize how the lock worked – again, not his fault either, look at that damn thing, hence my wanting to bypass it altogether with the tech solution – and told everyone to go home before I had a chance to say anything.

I wanted to take a look and expected that Thundercat broke the key in the lock because Chad couldn’t get it open but it turns out that it was just the trickiness of the lock itself.

By the time I opened the gym up, several people already left.

Honestly, I feel that I shoulda insisted on replacing the tech lock and sealing off the toggle of the mortise, which I finally did with athletic tape.

But it’s so hard to explain and I always figure it’s best to just let people figure things out for themselves.

Like I said, I’m upgrading my OS. I’m trying to focus on just making sure I’m working ok before I try to fix anything or anyone else.

Me: Put on your long socks.
Him: I don’t wanna.
Me: You gotta trust me on this, kid.
Him: I don’t wanna!
Me: [In my head: It’s raining. Which means you gotta wear your boots. If you wear your short socks, they’ll get pulled down in your boots, which means that you’ll keep stopping every five minutes to fix them, meaning we’ll be late for school] Hokay. But we’re not stopping for any reason.

He wears long socks when it rains now.

Location: yesterday night, telling people to not die on 18th Street
Mood: super tired
Music: You’re a good soldier, choosing your battles Tsamina mina, eh, eh Waka waka, eh, eh Tsamina mina zangalewa (Spotify)
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2022: Whacha know about rollin’?

Some rando videos of 2022

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A holiday dinner

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

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

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

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

I wonder if this is my last move with them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The one with the nut in the cookie

Friday was a weird day.

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

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

Damn, that company knows how to work kids.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I wasn’t complaining.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But I was surprised when the boy started to cry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Altogether Different

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

On the night of January 1st, 1977 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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LAU (@lau4magic) • Instagram photos and videos

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