Tag: observations

Categories
personal

Train (still) on time

Mentally mapping trains

Her: Before I buy more KFC can you check the freezer to see if we already have KFC?
Me: Check the freezer?! Baby, all we’re doing is adding to our current KFC stash if there’s *already* KFC in the freezer. That’s like saying, “Hey, before I make more money, check the bank to see if we have money in the bank already.” Do you hear how that sounds?
Her: Someone’s hangry right now.
Me: Clearly!

The kids are both back for school to start next week. While they’re growing up quickly, we’re still not ready to let either of them take the trains by themselves yet.

This is despite the Firecracker’s kid being just obsessed with trains.

Trains and the subway show up a lot in this blog – even way in the beginning – because that’s my main means of transportation, which is kinda strange if you think about it.

I suppose most of you travel by car and such but that’s a luxury here in the city.

When the Firecracker and I went to Vienna, we didn’t think twice about taking the trains.

And years ago – before this blog, if you can believe it – I went to visit Prague and Berlin and had to get someplace off the train line.

Asked a local where the nearest station was and he said we should take a cab instead because their subway system was so complex.

I remember laughing and saying, “I’m from NYC, I think I’ll be ok.”

And I was.

Same with Vienna and every other major city I’ve ever been to.

Essentially, if you can make it around the NYC subway system, any other system on the planet is a cinch, language issues notwithstanding.

Interestingly, I read this article which said that “city transportation maps with over 250 connections are too complex for most people to navigate. In fact, a staggering 80% of trips in New York already exceed this cognitive limit.”

Meaning that just being able to take the NYC subway system puts you in the elite of cognition as it relates to mental mapping.

In some ways, that’s part of why I wanna raise the kid in the city versus elsewhere – because he’s constantly being tested and pushed in ways that he doesn’t even realize.

Well, that plus the fact that I can readily get all sortsa fried fowl, even in the midst of a pandemic.

Hangry…

Location: by a pool in Central Islip
Mood:
Music: oh my, the train is gone (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

Grief is the price you pay for wonderful things

It is a concern

Headed back out to middle-of-nowhere Brooklyn again the other day to pick up the kid from his sleepaway camp.

He was grinning ear-to-ear when I got him.

Him: Papa!
Me: Hey, kiddo! Man, you got dark! I hope you put on some sunscreen. How was it?

He told me that he had a great time and made a lotta new friends, which was exactly what I was hoping to hear.

When we packed, I asked if he wanted to bring his guitar and he said yes, so we did just that.

Well, it turns out that it’s a good thing that we did because he ended up playing for everyone twice.

The first time was at a talent show…

…but the second time was on the last full day, where he played for the entire camp.

Me: What song did you sing?
Him: Riptide!

I shot the picture below to my MIL.

Me: I wish we could do something about his quiet and reserved nature…
Her: It is a concern

The only thing that bummed me out was that he told me that when it was his turn to talk about Alison, he said that he was ok because he didn’t remember her enough to miss her.

That absolutely gutted me, but I didn’t say anything, because we have to let true things be true.

Then again, if he remembered her, he wouldn’t be functional.

Because all she ever wanted was to be his mom and he would have been devastated at losing her.

On that note, he did get super sad that night at dinner.

Him: (sadly) I miss all my friends.
Me: (gently) Then that means you had a wonderful time. Grief is the price you pay for wonderful things.
Him: But it’s so hard.
Me: (nodding) We’re always gonna miss wonderful things when they’re gone. That’s why I miss your mom all the time, because she was my wonderful thing.

Location: heading out to dinner at the Flatiron to meet my SIL’s new fella
Mood: curious
Music: I got a lump in my throat ’cause you’re gonna sing (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

Nuthin like it was for someone else

You pay to be left alone

Her: Hey, are you free to join some work colleagues for dinner?
Me: Sure – where and when?

The Firecracker had a fancy work dinner to attend, so I gave her some suggestions, including the really nice restaurant that I took her to on our first proper dinner date years ago.

She booked a reservation but then one person couldn’t make it, so I showed up in his stead.

It’s funny because someone mentioned on the Firecracker’s social media why we would want to eat in an empty restaurant, and we talked about that exact topic that night.

Me: (to the guests) The thing about living in NYC is that when you pay a ridiculous amount of money in a restaurant for food, you’re really paying for people to not be on top of you.
Firecracker: Yeah, most places are crowded and loud. You pay for space and quiet.

In any case, I got my usual burger…

…and a drink.

Afterward, I gave some of them – who were in town visiting – a tour of the St. Marks area.

Along the way, we walked by some old haunts of mine, including:

Spent most nights there with my friends Francis and Rain but that’s a story for another day.

We ended up at Criff Dogs…

…and Please Don’t Tell, the speakeasy that we didn’t make it into last time and actually made it in this time.

I may or may not have ordered some hot dogs.

Firecracker: I swear to god, he has a wooden leg.
Me: I’m a growing boy.

Afterwards, we all went our respective ways but I actually, sent Rain a shot of Cafe Orlin/Marlou Bistro…

…and his response was typically him.

Without telling his story, I think part of the reason he left New York was that the New York that he loved left him.

I think that’s why a lotta people leave this place.

There’s almost nuthin left of the New York City that I once knew.

But that’s ok for me.

Because I gotta figure that the New York City that I knew is nuthin like it was for someone else who came before me.

And it’s time for someone else to have their New York City.

Me: I miss the kid.
Her: He’ll be back this weekend.
Me: (nodding)

Location: 10AM, shooting a shirtless video for Scenic Fights and then eating $58 worth of carbs immediately afterward
Mood: so. so. so. so. full.
Music: In New York, you can be a new man (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

Being special is the inverse of being happy

I want him happy

Me: Do you want me to wait with you?
Him: No, it’s ok, papa. I’m fine. I’ll just get on the bus and meet some people.

Woke up bright and early the other day to bring my kid to middle-of-nowhere Brooklyn where he caught a bus to another state for his first sleepaway camp.

He was fine. I was a mess.

It’s a special camp for kids that have lost an immediate family member – mother, father, brother, sister, etc.

An old and dear friend of mine told me about it, whose name is – fittingly – Heal.

She’s actually on the board of the group because she too lost a close family member as a child, so she walked me through the process of applying.

Well, he made it in and is currently living his absolute best life, at least based on all the pictures I’ve been seeing.

It’s a special camp for special kids, which makes sense, because my son is special.

Certainly, he’s special to me, but that’s not what I’m talking about.

    • He could read at 18 months.
    • He plays the guitar like a teenager.
    • He just beat me in poker (granted, a well-trained poodle could probably beat me in poker but just put a pin on that for now).

He’s also the kid that doesn’t have a mother.

That is the thing that – unfortunately – makes him special in a way that no one wants.

When I was a kid, I aspired to be special.

I was/am the middle child and probably the biggest nobody until I was in college.

But it was over a college summer working in at some office that I realized that there seemed to be an inverse relationship between the special and the happy.

The happy people were the middle-management nobodies that deeply loved their spouses and kids, and their innocuous little hobbies.

Conversely, the special people were either always trying to convince people that they were still special or – probably much worse – convince themselves that they were still special.

The special people were rarely happy.

And the happy people were rarely special.

Seeing my kid blissfully unaware that he’s at all special, but for the fact he only has a dad, means that he’s also blissfully happy.

But he’s been noticing that he’s special lately, because he’s the only one of all his peers with only one living parent.

It was because of this that I sent him to this camp – so he would know he wasn’t alone in the world.

If I had to pick one, special or happy, I would pick happy every day and twice on Sunday.

God, I just want him to be safe and happy.

He’s such a good little kid.

I’d pay any amount right now, if I could know that, long after I’m gone, that he’s safe and happy.

And I’d trade all he could possibly be – brilliant, famous, wealthy, respected, everything – for him to just be that.

Me: Alright, please be careful, ok?
Him: (nodding) I will. Don’t worry. See you next week.

Location: 7AM, the gym, trying to wake up
Mood: pacing
Music: I’m ready to show that I’m no ordinary (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

The humblest, even

Two sets of friends

Despite my loving French onion soup – which is definitely in my top five soups – I only recently discovered that the Firecracker never had any.

Me: You never had any?!
Her: Why do you do that, Logan? You ask me something, I answer, and you are always shocked at my answer.
Me: Because I’m always shocked at your answer!

Realizing this, I spent a little too much time trying to find a joint around me that made some, to no avail.

So, I figured since I couldn’t find it for her, decided to try making some.

Me: Well? Whaddoyou think?
Her: OMG, this is so good!
Me: Yeah, you seriously hit the jackpot with me – easy on the eyes AND I can cook, too.
Her: (rolls eyes) And so humble.
Me: The humblest, even.

Been home more lately just because my back has just been killing me.

That, plus some idiot at my gym torqued my ankle with a hyper-aggressive lock and probably tore some part of my instep.

I don’t recommend it.

I’ve noticed that for years decades, really, I’ve had two sets of friends:

    • The injured
    • The uninjured

At any given moment I will have (most of which are because I’m clumsy):

    • A herniated disk
    • A broken finger (I’ve broken seven outta ten)
    • A cracked rib (3x)
    • A torn shoulder
    • A hyperextended elbow (20+x)
    • A sprained ankle (20+x)
    • A broken tooth (6x)
    • A broken toe (2x)
    • A torn knee
    • A ripped lip
    • A cracked jaw

Considering that X percentage of my friends fight regularly and Y percentage don’t, this makes sense.

Yet, recently, I’ve been slowly realizing that I have almost no uninjured friends left.

It’s not so much that I’ve got more fighter friends, it’s that age is breaking down the bodies of my non-fighter friends.

And yet, I also see that they deal with these injuries very differently.

Most of my fighter friends are more what I might term “bummed” that they’re injured while my non-fighter friends seem more upset that they’re dealing with this sorta thing.

Anywho, merely an observation.

Him: Logan! How have you been?
Me: Still topside and breathing, although my back is crap.
Him: Don’t even get me started on my back. Oh, and I ate a nasty wrist lock the other day.
Me: Yeah, this idiot at my gym…

Location: hanging with Buckley et al a little north of here
Mood: ex-haus-ted
Music: Baby, I’m cookin’ with gas (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

Everything’s moving at lightning speed

Plus jewelry in Chinatown

Him: What was that?!
Me: What was what?
Him: You didn’t feel that?
Me: (puzzled) No. (later) Whoa, ok, I felt that! I think we just had an earthquake.

The kid was settling down for the night when the August 2nd, 2025 east coast earthquake hit.

Nothing really happened in the pad, although I did do a cursory inspection around the place.

It’s kinda crazy how much the world’s changing yet we’re all a bit inured to it all.

I had to run an errand in Chinatown for a relative and I also promised the kid we’d head down so he could have some pasteries, so the Firecracker, he, and I all headed down the other day.

While we were there, the Firecracker found some jewelry that she fell in love with, so I bought her a little something. I’ll tell you more about that someday.

As for the kid, well, he got what he really wanted all along.

The Firecracker ended up hanging out in Chinatown to do her own thing while the kid and headed back – but not before stopping by a soccer store so he could check it out.

He’s grown a solid inch since March, which is already something I’m already trying to wrap my head around, but more than that, he’s got a lotta opinions now.

And we’re doing things like checking out stores for stuff for him to buy.

When I was a kid, I remember my mom telling someone that we were growing up so fast whereas I remember everything being such a draaaaaaaggg…

Now I get it.

Everything’s moving at lightning speed, and I’m worried it’ll all be over before I realize it.

In my head, the kid looks like the 18-month-old above.

But he’s not anymore and I feel so many different things all at once about that.

Location: home, organizing a ton of boxes
Mood: nostalgic
Music: all over, I feel the earth move under my feet (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

What is home if not the people that call it that?

Never having a home

Speaking of home, movies like the Warriors – which is based on a true story that happened almost 3,000 years ago – can be countlessly retold because the themes of longing, home, and survival are universal.

Hold that thought.

While I enjoy the modern takes on the Incredible Hulk – particularly the 2008 Ed Norton reboot – for someone that grew up with the 1978 television series, The Incredible Hulk, it’s very different.

Not just in terms of technology, production values, and the like, but the thrust of the show itself.

Essentially, the modern movies make stories about a god-like/monster-like hero, the television show was mainly about the other part of the Hulk, Dr. Banner.

There, Banner is shown as a drifter, and I thought that the show was the story of a man with a mindless monster inside of him.

As I got older, I got wiser and thought it was the story of a man searching for a home with a monster inside of him.

But this was wrong also, I realized.

It was the story of man that can never have a home, ever. He must always be on the run and can never relax or settle down.

Not my copyright, obvs.

Because the moment he finds someone to create a home with, that person will forever be in danger of the monster inside him.

So, he can’t have any relationships – no friends, no lovers, no children, no one.

Which is why the ending scene was always of Banner walking alone, to nowhere, with nothing but the clothes on his back and a duffle bag.

Banner can never go home because he can never have a home. He will never have a home.

So, there’s no home to find.

Because what is home if not the people that call it that along with you?

And he has no one to call it that with him.

It’s such a tragic story and can probably explain how a primetime television series about a big, green, comic book character in the 70s lasted five years.

In any case, just a random thought.

Think I’m finally starting to understand the world a bit.

Which isn’t necessarily a good thing.

Oh, by the way, my son’s home.

Him: I’m home!
Me: (laughing) Yes you are!

Location: NJ, getting my treasure
Mood: steamy
Music: There’s a monster in me who shut down (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

Tent or Cave?

Troglodyte

Me: I think all housing is either a tent or a cave. Like a modern home is a modern tent and a modern apartment is just a modern cave.
Firecracker: What would you call a stone house then?
Me: That’s still a cave. It’s like when you say all foods are soups or sandwiches, although I think that there’s a third category of salads.
Her: (shaking head) No those are soups. But I think there are a lot more things than tents and caves.
Me: Disagree on both points!

For years, I lived in my parents’ basement and then lived in my own basement for a while.

Told someone once that I was an actual troglodyte – which is someone that lives in a cave – in that an apartment is essentially a modern cave.

She disagreed as well.

But really, people have been living in caves since the dawn of time and things don’t really change, we just get used to things.

Like I live in a cave in the middle of Manhattan.

There are worse places to be.

The kid’s coming back this week and I’m super excited. There was a long time where I thought that home was wherever Alison was.

Suppose that’s a major reason I become unmoored after she died. I lost my sense of self.

But I’ve gotten better all these years because home is where the kid is now.

And the Firecracker and her son round out what home now means to me.

In fact, the Firecracker and I talk a lot about maybe getting a trailer and a car and traveling across the country when the kids go off to college.

Someday, maybe.

Until then, think I’ll make the kid some pancakes when he comes back for brekkie in our little cave we call home.

Me: You’re back in two days!
Him: I know! I can’t wait.
Me: Me neither, kiddo. Me neither.

Location: almost home
Mood: hot, hot, hot, hot
Music: don’t matter where we go, we always find our way back home (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

Boston 2025: Chinatown

And a Bánh Mì

In my last entry, my buddy CoB posted the following on FB:

What’s funny is that I got no less than three comments that day about my shirt while in Boston and regularly get a couple here and there in NYC.

It’s funny how certain things have a universality to them.

After we got up from our quickie nap, we got ourselves together and walked a few blocks to Boston’s Chinatown, where we first stopped off to get some soup dumplings…

…before we tried to crash a buncha older Chinese people playing cards.

Her: They’re playing Big Two!
Me: We should ask them if you can play.
Her: I’m down!

We ended up not doing that, although I do think it’d be hilarious if we actually did try to crash as the Firecracker plays to win.

I was still hungry though, of course, so we picked up some absolutely killer bahn mi’s from a local joint and some Thai iced tea and brought it all back to our hotel lobby…

…where we got some drinks at the bar and played some Scrabble.

The wild nights of Logan and The Firecracker know no bounds.

In any case, she won.

Like I said, she plays to win.

There was more but we can end this entry here.

Location: home, icing my ankled
Mood: irritated
Music: We were in love and lovin’ it (Spotify)
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
Blogarama - Observations Blogs

Categories
personal

The 8th Category

Poop Cruise!

We did binge Andor – which you should really do as well, honestly excellent writing – but we also saw Poop Cruise.

Now, if you were ever hesitant to go on a cruise, I would strongly recommend that you not watch it.

But it was pretty compelling, and we both found ourselves – probably because we were killing an entire bottle of wine between the two of us – randomly yelling out, Poop Cruise! for no real reason.

Me: Can I pay you a compliment?
Her: Sure!
Me: I always waaay overestimate how much time something will take when you help me out.

One of the reasons we could watch both was that we massively upgraded the home network.

One of the first things that Buckley did when he moved into the pad with me over a quarter-of-a-century ago was hardwire the whole pad for ethernet.

At the time, the fastest speed was gigabit, or 1,000 megabits per second (Mbps), which you could only get with Cat5e, the fastest commercially available ethernet cable at the time.

Regular Cat5 could do something called “Fast Ethernet,” which is about 100 Mbps.

We wired the pad with a combo of the two – with a couplea branches using Cat4 – never dreaming we’d ever need gigabit speeds or greater.

This is roughly what my room looked like 24 years ago – I saw 9/11 unfold sitting on that bed, watching that TV.

Then, during COVID, I decided to rip out all the Cat5 and Cat4 and just do Cat5e everywhere.

Well, we had a lightning strike here about a month ago that dropped us from roughly 500 Mbps to 80 Mbps, which was just awful (it’s less than 1/10th a gigabit)

So, this past weekend, the Firecracker and I both tore out every single centimeter of cable that Buckley and I laid out 25+ years ago and replaced it with 90% Cat8 cable, which has a theoretical maximum speed of 40,000 Mbps (!!!!).

AND because the Firecracker’s just so damn organized and focused, what we thought was gonna take the whole day, we were able to bang out in just four hours.

Afterwards, I tested everything and was pleasantly surprised at the results: While the cabling can handle up to 40,000 Mbps, with our current routers, we topped out at “only” 113 MB/s, which is just under a gigabit at 904 Mbps.

This is compared to the 80 Mbps that we were working with the past month.

Honestly, this was the best possible outcome since we were approaching theoretical limits on the current hardware we had.

This is roughly what it looked like 15 years ago when Alison was here and kept it tidy.

Because we finished so quickly, we also decided to clean out TWO closets, and managed to replace the hoses on the washer/dryer as well (you’re supposed to change your washer hoses every five years, so if you’ve not done that, you should).

In return for her help, I picked up some Xi’an Famous Food, from around the way – it just opened up less than a year ago and I’d been to the more famous one in Flushing and wanted to try it out.

The food was absolutely killer, and it was a great way to close out the day.

Me: Hey, thanks so much for all the help today.
Her: For you? Anytime.

Location: the gym, taking an elbow to my hose
Mood: ache-y
Music: got sunshine even on a cloudy day (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.