Tag: quote

Categories
personal

Old, crusty, curmudgeons

People that are like each other…

My life is series of simple things I tell myself regularly; reminders if you will, on how to live the kind of life that makes me happy and keeps me productive.

Like, I’ve said in this blog, a buncha times – one way or another – that The truth is a powerful thing.

And, We are what we constantly do.

They’re small statements that, in my life at least, have a great deal of consequence in my life.

There’s an NLP saying that I like that goes: When people are like each other, they tend to like each other.

And that really explains the easy relationships that I’ve had as well as the really hard ones.

Certainly, the plain language of it’s true – we like people that are like us and people that are like us, tend to like us.

The opposite is also true: We tend not to like people that aren’t like us and people that aren’t like us, tend to like us.

This isn’t a hard and fast rule – hence the use of the word, tend – but, by-and-large, I find it accurate.

Sara: This is why you two are friends.
Me: Why?
Her: You’re both just old, crusty, curmudgeons that like to cook.
Me: That’s accurate.

“You two,” being me and Steel as I saw him and the Surgeon for dinner the other day.

Steel spent two days making a homemade ragu that was absolutely killer – I had four servings and all I have to show for it is this blurry picture, sorry.

He also went to Astoria and picked up fresh bucatini and made a simple oil sauce to go with it.

Me: No lemons?
Him: Trying a traditional recipe. (later) You know what else it doesn’t have? Garlic.
Me: Wait, wha?! You didn’t put garlic into an Italian oil sauce?
Him: I know! But it’s a traditional recipe that I wanted to try.

It was shockingly good as well.

The Surgeon went out and got some fresh mozzarella and basil so we could also have a caprese as well, paired with some really crusty, fresh-baked bread.

Their older brother was there as well as my trusts-and-estates lawyer, and a good friend of theirs that’s a diplomat in Nigeria.

Me: Where’s your wife?
Him: She’s back in Nigeria at the compound there.
Me: That’s a sentence that I’ve actually said before when Alison was in Nigeria.

It was a fun night, as always, because the kids all had a grand time together and because, well, they’re like me and I’m like them – we’re all just parents trying to do right by our kids however we can and cooking up a storm because we’re all gluttons at heart.

Sara: (to Steel) That focaccia that you made the other day was the best thing I ever ate, I think.
Me: I’m standing right here.
Her: Well, Logan cooks too.
Steel: Does he, really, though?
Me: I’M STANDING RIGHT HERE!

My people…

Location: the gym, wondering if I just jacked my wrist
Mood: crotchety
Music: Me? I’m a part of your circle of friends (Spotify)
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
Blogarama - Observations Blogs

Categories
personal

Getting from the world without expectation

Experience Camps

Me: I dunno, it’s a little early.
Him: (sighing) Ok, papa.
Me: (thinking) You know what, let’s just go. I don’t wanna be the reason we miss the bus.
Him: YAY!

The kid went off to camp today.

The same really wonderful camp he went to last year, Experience Camps.

Neither of us got any sleep last night: He, because he was too excited and I, because…well, I’m me and still an insomniac (although much better these days).

Even though we didn’t have to be there until 10:15 at the latest, we took off super early.

It was raining when we arrived – an empty parking lot in the middle of nowhere Brooklyn.

There was literally no one else around, so we just sat around for around 40 minutes until someone actually showed up.

Camp Counselor: So, what’s your…wait, you’re the guitar kid!
My son: (laughing) Yeah!

He was one of the first kids on the bus. He couldn’t wait to go.

I saw my own bus off in the distance and ran for it; it was gonna be a solid 15 minutes before the next one.

Heading home, I thought about something someone said once:

My son’s at an age where he still gets from the world, without expectation of giving anything return.

Soon, it will start to demand from him. And then Life will both demand and take.

And then my son, the child, will be gone forever, and he’ll be not-yet-a-man, and then a man.

None of which I’m prepared for.

Don’t think I’m ever prepared for the goodbyes.

Suppose no one ever is.

Him: I’ll be back soon, papa.
Me: I know. I’ll still miss you.

Location: in front of my non-functioning PC, realizing I’m gonna have to take it apart to get to a tiny battery
Mood: grumble
Music: I’m not losing you (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

The things he carried

What they represent

The stuff I took from my sister a few weeks ago deserves its own entry here, but I wanted to talk about some things that I found that brought back so many memories.

See, I recall the picture of my mom that you see above, and the vocab cards were always in his wallet.

I didn’t know about the other two pictures.

It reminded me of the picture of my son’s sonogram that Alison carried around in her filofax.

She must have looked at that image a million times and dreamt of the life that she and he would have together.

Fuck.

But this entry isn’t about her but about my dad.

This Father’s Day, the kid gave me this card that he wrote up in Chinese school.

He kept his promise from Mother’s Day and handed me the card you see below.

Just like with the Mother’s Day card he gave me, he wrote on this one: Happy, happy, happy.

Only, this time, it really was. He handed it to me beaming.

Me: Why did you write, “Happy, Happy, Happy?”
Him: (shrugging) I dunno. Why aren’t you going to read it now?
Me: Because it’s not Father’s Day just yet. I wanna have something to read that day.
Him: Oh, ok!

And I saved it for that day, which is its own entry.

I think children don’t really know what their parents truly carry around with them.

Alison and my dad both carried around physical pictures of the things that they loved because that was the time they were born in – there were no smartphones, no jpegs, no MP4 files, no digital flashcards.

So, they picked the most special things to carry with them and those were my dad’s

I know that Alison stared at that sonogram a million times throughout the day.

My dad looked at my brother and me so many times that he had to laminate the picture you see above.

And the picture of all three kids was folded, so I know he kept it in his wallet.

Finally, that picture of my mom always made me realize just how much he loved her.

I’m guessing that he looked at that picture of my mom – prior to him cutting it – and thought:

She looks so beautiful. But this isn’t a good picture. I’ll just cut out her face because I want to look at it while I’m busy at work.

Now, I totally made up that conversation with my dad to himself.

But, lemme tell you, I would bet my entire pad that I’m 100% right.

Because he only had eyes for her – everything else could go away.

My dad wasn’t perfect, but he taught me how to be a good father and husband without talking about either.

He just did it – meaning he just was a good dad and was a good husband – so I could copy him.

I think those are the best dads and the kind I hope I am, or at least could be.

I told you, decades ago, that:

You don’t love a picture because of the paper it’s printed on.

You love a picture for what it represents.

These are the pictures and things my father loved.

As for us, we are so very lucky; I have an entire phone that has access to thousands of pictures and videos – of Sara, of the kid, of my family, of Alison.

I carry my phone wherever I go, which means that I carry them wherever I go.

My dad carried less than I did, I carry more than he did, but we loved every single one of them the same way.

And he carried those vocabulary cards because he loved learning and I love learning because he did.

Just like him, I always carry something that will make me a little smarter than I was yesterday.

Just like I carry him with me.

Sara: You ok?
Me: Yeah. (pause) I just miss my dad.
Her: Yeah. (thinking) What do you want for dinner tomorrow?
Me: (brightening) Oh man, carbs! Like maybe pasta? Or sushi? Or…noodles? I know! Indian food – rice, bread, potatoes…yeah.
Her: (laughing) It’s Father’s Day. You can have all that.
Me: Thanks, baby. (sighing) Thanks.
Her: (nodding gently) Anytime, Logan Lo. Anytime.

Location: Chinatown…with all the carbs
Mood: wistful
Music: 上を向いて歩こう (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

Going back to baseline

Nuthin

Him: 53! You’re another year closer to death.
Me: I’m another year closer to baseline.
Him: What does that mean?
Me: (shrugging) I’ve been dead a lot longer than I’ve ever been alive. Once I’m dead, things will go back to normal.

98% of the universe is hydrogen (74%) and helium (24%); the remaining 2% is the stuff we care about and most of that is nuthin.

In fact, most of the universe is just that: Nuthin.

No light, no heat, no life.

Just..nuthin.

But on top of all the current nuthin, everything before us and after us was and will be…nuthin.

Life itself and everything we know is an anomaly.

If all of time was the following, then the entirety of all life from the Big Bang onwards – planets, stars, galaxies, people, dinosaurs, hot blondes from the south, everything that ever existed and will exist – would be a single atomic particle somewhere inside another atom, inside that green cross below.

…++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++…

And all those white crosses before and after that atomic particle would stretch out into infinity and just be fulla…nuthin.

Mark Twain once said, “I do not fear death. I had been dead for billions and billions of years before I was born and had not suffered the slightest inconvenience from it.”

That’s probably the truest thing the fella ever said.

And, after these short 53 years, I’m not so much afraid of dying as I’m a little weary of life itself.

Don’t get me wrong, I AM afraid of dying, and I definitely WANT to stick around for as long as possible I’m able to enjoy it, but I’m also old enough to feel, well, tired.

But the kid’s not ready yet and I’ve gotta do everything I can to stick around until he’s ready to face the world alone.

Alison once said that the moment you become a parent is the moment you start worrying and never stop. She was right.

In any case, I look at people that spend their lives watching Netflix and gorging themselves on junk and wonder if they truly appreciate the astronomical odds that gave them life in a universe filled with nuthin.

Like, you’re actually sentient and have free will and what you choose to do with it is buy MAGA hats and believe nonsense.

It seems insane to me.

We’re so unbelievably lucky to even exist – we are in such an infinitesimally small minority that, if I think about it too much, I feel my own madness begin – and yet so many people, myself included, squander it.

I suppose that’s why most people seem insane to me.

Because this – existence itself – is the outlier.

Since the beginning of time, most of everything was nuthin.

And someday, it’ll all be nuthin again and never stop being nuthin.

And that’s when it occurred to me that perhaps everyone else is sane and I’m the insane one.

Not that it would surprise me.

Him: So how are you gonna celebrate?
Me: Gonna have some rum, make out with the wife, go to bed with a good book. The kid’s gonna let me sleep in.
Him: (laughing) Living the dream, man.
Me: (nodding) Living is the dream, man. Few people get the chance.

Location: here in space and time, if only for a moment
Mood: philosophical
Music: each one and the next one to arrive; the argument for consciousness (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

I’m sorry for my appalling silence

Completely clue-resistant

Me: I feel it’s dishonest for me to not say something because this stuff actually matters and people are dying so this fat senile fuck can make a little more money and stay outta jail before he dies. Fuck that.
Producer: [I get it]. We are falling fast into a dark time in the states. Voice your just opinions and hopefully more people will voice theirs.

Have you ever noticed that the right-wing here in the US always seem to be militant Christians but it’s only the left-wing that ever quote the New Testament?

Weird, right?

It’s almost like they have zero actual facts even here to support anything they believe and – even here – they’re just completely making stuff up as they go along.

I started Scenic Fights as a lark, really.

Never imagined, in a million years, that it would amount to anything.

So, I’ve been pleasantly surprised with the cool things that have happened with it, such as me being recognized by fans when I’m just going about my day.

Over time, it’s grown into something I’m really quite proud of and the team works insanely hard to keep it going.

A few years ago, the producers advised me to be mindful of what I say online because SF is supposed to be for all fans, of any political spectrum.

At the time, I agreed and have, for the most part, been fairly limited in my criticism of Trump and the MAGA movement in general.

But, after the deaths murders state-sponsored executions of Renee Good and Alex Pretti, I’ve decided I can’t just tiptoe around this thing.

I write this on Holocaust Remembrance Day, 2026.01.27, which seems particularly fitting.

To my loyal readers, I unreservedly apologize for my appalling silence this whole time.

I regret not writing this sooner.

To wit: If you’re a Trump/GOP voter and read me, don’t. Honestly.

You’re a traitor to everything this country once stood for, and you can get bent. Full stop.

The insane mental gymnastics the MAGA voters go through to justify their absolutely batshit interpretation of what it means to be a loyal American is just pathetic and gross.

If that weren’t bad enough, it’s just the sheer embarrassment of their existence; they have the complete confidence of the rich C- student that’s never been right but has never suffered for always being wrong.

It’s invariably those people in group projects that were the main reason why I’ve struggled with group projects and here – at a macro-level – is no different.

We’re struggling as a nation right now, not so much because they’re clueless, but because they’re completely clue-resistant – fighting every bit of fact they can, despite all evidence to the contrary.

Now, before you write me anything, just know that I don’t give a flying fuck about anything you have to say.

There’s a buncha reasons for this that I don’t have the time and you don’t have the baseline intelligence to process.

But – as a general rule – I don’t read jack shit from whiny apologists of draft-dodging, gold-star family mocking, senile, incontinent, lying (so much fucking lying, JHC), child-raping pedophiles.

Sidenote: If he’s not in the files, why spend all these YEARS hiding them? Occam’s razor.

Ergo, whatever self-assessed brilliant insult or witty comeback you’re planning to write, just know that I’ve been called worse things by better people.

I’m sure you and the circle you call your family tree are not unfamiliar with this.

In summary: Fuck you and the horse you rode in on, you broken pencil of an excuse of a human being.

If I’ve entertained you even for a millisecond, know that I’m embarrassed and wholly regretful for that, although I’m guessing that 97.4% of what I write is beyond your fourth-grade reading level.

May I suggest you find someone with the time and crayons to more fully explain this all to you, you submissive fucktard.

“Submissive,” because  – deep down – you know, you’re this way because you’re too scared, too confused, and too jealous of a world you couldn’t hack and need someone to tell you what to do because you utterly failed on your own.

May you choke on a $2 egg with the only medical professional available being a MAGA adherent of Wormbrain Kennedy Junior.

tl;dr: Go fuck yourself, you paste-eating, cosplaying, pedo-worshiping traitor.

Glossary

  • The New Testament: The 27 books after the Old Testament; if you’re a Christian, technically, this is where you should be quoting from.
  • A lark: Something done for amusement
  • To wit: “That is to say”
  • Unreservedly: Completely
  • Get bent: Go have sexual intercourse with yourself
  • Macro-level: Big picture
  • Incontinent: Unable to control urination or defecation.
  • Urination or defecation: Peeing or pooping.
  • Occam’s razor: The simplest explanation is usually correct.
  • Ergo: Therefore
  • Apologist: Someone that offers excuses for someone or something else.
  • Adherent: Follower
  • tl;dr: “Too long; didn’t read.”

 

View this post on Instagram

 

A post shared by Jen Hamilton (@_jen_hamilton_)

Location: Evidently, 1938 Germany
Mood: in-fucking-censed
Music: ask ’em, “How much should we give?” They only answer, “More, more, more” (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

Leaving holes in our lives that cannot be filled

As Happy as I could be

Him: (after meeting the Firecracker) You have a type.
Me: (shrugging) It’s not so much that as there are certain traits in a partner that I value. And the partner that I would pick to be my “until-death-do-you-part” partner would have the most of those things because I value those things.

The Firecracker isn’t Alison, but they have a lot in common – far beyond both being blondes with coloured eyes.

This shouldn’t be surprising because I seek certain things, just like everyone else does.

For example, they’re both female, which makes sense, as I like females. They’re both unwaveringly kind. They both liked that I cooked and I liked that they both cleaned.

Etc. Etc.

I’ve always said that we spend our lives looking for our tribes.

Who’s the ultimate example of your tribe if not your partner?

And if your partner isn’t the ultimate example of your tribe, why isn’t s/he, and why would you be with her/him then?

Firecracker: Are you happy?
Me: (thinking) Yes. But it’s complex.

This fella named Oliver Sacks once said:

When people die they cannot be replaced. They leave holes that cannot be filled, for it is the fate – the genetic and neural fate – of every human being to be a unique individual, to find his own path, to live his own life, to die his own death.

Yeah.

And when someone leaves your Venn diagram, they take with them that unique space in your life that only he or she coulda occupied.

So, I have a hole in my soul the shape of my dad that was carved out once he died.

Just like I have one in the shape of my grandmother.

But the largest hole is that of Alison. It’s still there, as are the others.

That’s not changed. It never will.

After all, grief is the price we pay for wonderful things.

My father, Alison, my grandmother – they were all my wonderful things.

So, when the Firecracker asks me something like, “Are you happy?” The answer is yes.

But, imagine that you lost your left arm seven years ago. And in those seven years, beautiful and terrible things happened, because, that’s how life is.

Assume that you’re lucky and the beautiful things far outnumber the terrible things.

I’d assume you’d be happy.

But you’ll never be as happy as you would have been if you got a chance to enjoy those wonderful things AND still have your left arm.

Except, it’s not just your left arm. It’s your right hand as well.

And other bits and pieces of your body soul.

As happy as you could possibly be, you’ll never be as happy as you could have been sine qua non/but for the losses.

That’s the truest answer for the Firecracker’s question and it’s something that I’m acutely aware of for my son.

Because, as happy as he’ll be, as good as a parent as I could possibly be, he’ll forever miss having his mother raise and love him.

He’ll forever be missing something most people, myself included, take for granted.

And my heart aches as to the truth of that statement.

It’s why Mother’s Day/Alison’s birthday is such hell for both of us.

Note that the same is true for the Firecracker.

Because we met after she’s lived decades of her life and the purpose of life is to wear you down.

She too has injuries that she bears so that, as happy as she might be with me, those injuries remain. But that’s her story to tell.

I know that I can make the years the Firecracker and I have together as happy as I can.

But I also know that there are things that I can’t do because we all have those holes in our souls in the shape of the people and things we’ve loved and lost.

I like to think that, it’s not so much that I’ll die one day, so much as it is that I’ll have so many holes in my soul that, one day, they’ll be too many for me to go on.

I’m 39 in this picture above and the main one.

My friend Nadi took them while we were having dinner one night.

Life was perfect at that moment.

At that moment: My clients are awesome, and my career is taking off. My dad is alive. I’m happy and laughing with friends. And she’s alive and we’re about to start a family. Three kids. Suburbs.

Alla that.

A year after that picture: Alison and I lost our first pregnancy. It was the start of a winter of sadness and pain that I wouldn’t have believed possible for anyone to survive.

Nonea that.

But, in that moment, I was happy because I didn’t know how fucked up life could – and would – become.

Man, the lucky never realize they are lucky until it’s too late.

I’m realizing how lucky – at least right now – I am.

And I’m grateful to the Firecracker and the kid for making me feel lucky again.

It’s been such a long time.

Me: But I’m as happy as I could possibly be right now. I have no capacity to be any happier.
Her: Ok, I’ll take that.

Location: A dark bullet bar with some new friends and good stories
Mood: lucky happy
Music: It’s gotta drive you crazy, how you keep it all inside (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

Returning to My Hometown

And soon I will as well

Pretty much everything advanced in the world has a semiconductor chip in it.

And the world’s largest and most advanced semiconductor foundry is Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Company (TSMC), which is headquartered in – what used to be a sleepy little town called – Hsinchu, Taiwan.

Pretty much spent every other summer there as a kid.

The day after the Firecracker and I got hitched, I immediately took a plane ride to Taiwan.

By the time you read this entry, we would already be starting our trip back home to America so it’s gonna be a bit outta order, but I wanted to tell you this little story first to set the whole thing up.

The last time I was in Taiwan was Monday, May 8, 2000, for a business trip, 25 years ago.

Purely by coincidence, my dad was there for the first time in 30 years because it was his turn to sweep the family grave – which is a Chinese tradition.

That meant that the last time he had been home was 1970.

I’d not gone home to Taiwan for a host of reasons, which we don’t need to get into right now.

Before you knew it, a quarter-of-a-century passed.

That’s my dad next to me and my uncle. Both are gone now. Yes, I age. Just very slowly. Dunno what I was thinking with my hair.

In any case, I know exactly two Chinese poems by heart.

One of them was written by a fella named He Zhizhang, sometime between 659 and 744 CE, called Returning to My Hometown.

You can look up the Chinese version, but the translation roughly goes something like this:

I was young when I left, old when I returned.
My accent’s the same but my hair’s thinned and grayed.
Kids from my old hometown don’t know who I am.
They laugh and ask, “Stranger, where’re you come from?”

It’s a lot more poignant in the original Chinese (and rhymes, to boot).

But – at least the way my dad explained it to me – the poem tells a story of a fella that left his hometown to make his fortune and returns home only to find that his home isn’t his home anymore.

Yeah, it kinda looks like his home but it also kinda doesn’t.

Just like him, he kinda looks the same but also kinda doesn’t.

And when he was there as a kid, everyone knew his name.

Now, he’s a stranger in the town that he knew like the back of his hand – to the point that the little kids now run up to him and laugh and point, “Check out this weird stranger who’s not from around here.”

And the town is a stranger to him.

That’s how I felt when I came home to the little town that I used to spend every other summer at growing up.

Except it’s not a little town at all. It was kinda the same but really not.

It’s all modern and high tech, nothing like I remember.

While the town I last saw in 2000 was pretty close to the one I remember from the 70s, 80s, and 90s, this one I just left is almost nothing like I know.

Legit, nothing like the town I last saw in 2000.

Nothing like the home I knew and loved.

I’m gonna tell you all about my Taiwan trip but I wanted to tell you that, during the whole trip, I saw old ghosts everywhere I went.

The sleepy town I knew so well is a bustling tech hub that’s home to the most powerful and advanced tech manufacturing factory on the planet.

To me, it was just where my grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins lived.

Where I slept above a garage that my grandma converted into a tiny little convenience store.

I was the grandson of a shop-owner who lived in town all her life and told of her daughter that lived far away in New York City.

Everywhere I looked, I saw glimpses of people and places I loved so very deeply, long gone that I’ll never see again.

You see that old lady in that picture up there? I loved her more than you can imagine.

For the first time in my life, I’ve come home and she isn’t here to greet me and I can barely type these words, that’s how much I loved – and still love – those two women you see above in that convenience store in a converted garage that no longer exists and never will again.

Just like so many things that I have loved and will always love.

I’m grateful for my son and the Firecracker. Truly.

Their being here with me made bearable the unbearable.

I realize may not look like an old man but I’m certainly not a young man.

And even if I age slowly, those around me do not and that is, in many ways, worse.

Now all the people and things I loved and love still are aging and disappearing.

And, if this trip has made me realize anything, I will soon as well.

Don’t know how much more loss I can bear.

Him: Aren’t you happy to be back?
Me: I am…I just…I am. (nodding) I am.

Location: on a hard wooden chair by a hard wooden table at a train museum
Mood: alone
Music: Someday, I’ll go (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

Bro, these are precious

Licking off knives

The Devil once said something about his childhood that always stuck in my mind:

When you aren’t fed what you need by spoons, you learn to lick what you can off knives.

Never really understood what he meant by that until I became a dad myself, but I think it means that children will fill themselves with something, so it’s best that you do it before they do it themselves with things you may or may not want.

To this end, I’ve been trying my darndest to give him things that I loved as a child, like the books that made me, me or shows that I loved as a kid.

Obviously, he’ll find things of his own that he’ll know and love.

But sometimes I feel it’s a losing battle against the allure of technology and…screens.

Man, screens are crack for kids.

BUT there is one single thing that I loved as a kid that the kid loves as well: Board and card games.

So, the other day, instead of playing Big Two – which we’ve been playing pretty consistently around here – we dusted off the ole Settlers of Catan.

Man, I still remember playing with Paul and my friends way back when and coming home to Alison. That was a lifetime ago.

I digress…

The kids were really into it this time because they understood the rules and strategy, so it was a lot more fun.

While I ended up winning the game, for me, the high point of the whole evening came early on when we were all desperate for bricks.

The kid was the only one with any – he had just one – so we were all trying to cut a deal with him when he looks at the Firecracker’s kid dead in the eye and goes, You wanna trade that for this brick?! No way, bro, these are precious!

AND, I just happened to snap a pic right when he said it – that’s the pic directly above.

Laughed so hard I almost started crying.

That will be in the top ten memories for me and this kid for a while, I think.

Location: at a new studio, filming more shorts and video
Mood: drained
Music: with you, I am whole (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

Only when danger is far distant

Are you sure about that?

Took a knee to my eye and an elbow to my cheek the other day.

Fun times.

Her: You’re 52!
Me: I am not unaware.
Her: Are you sure about that, Logan!?

My SIL rang me up the other night because Alison’s mom was having a milestone birthday.

So, the next thing you know, the kid and I headed to her place to celebrate.

I spoke to her mom a while ago and she told me not to come for her birthday as it was too much trouble.

Me: You didn’t tell me it was [an important birthday]!
Her: I didn’t want to make a big deal.
Me: So, you wanna make me look like a jerk and not show up, lady?!
Her: (laughing) Thanks for coming.
Me: Of course!

My SIL brought some Italian cookies that I absolutely loved.

See, when I was a kid, my dad’s office was right next door to an Italian bakery.

Once in a blue moon, he’d bring home these exact cookies, and it was like the greatest day ever.

Man, I miss my dad.

Speaking of Italian things, we ended up just eating food from their local Italian joint.

I thought it was great but, evidently, I’m super easy because everyone else thought the food was only meh.

Me: I grew up super poor. This woulda been a feast for us.
Her: Well, we’re not eating the rest of it, so you can bring that home.
Me: Heck, yeah!

Speaking of when I was young, I read Machiavelli’s The Prince way back in 1996 when 2Pac released his like last album under that name (it was his only album I truly disliked).

I remembered the below quote from The Prince and was reminded of it recently what with everything going on in the news these days.

In general men are ungrateful, fickle, false, cowardly, covetous, dissimulating, hungry for profit and quick to evade danger. As long as you succeed and do them good, they are devoted to you entirely; they will offer you their blood, property, life and children… but only when danger is far distant; when danger approaches they turn against you.

Niccolo Machiavelli, The Prince, Ch. XVII

It’s funny how universal some things about humanity are and how they transcend both time and place.

I’m truly interested – and somewhat apprehensive – about what life will be like here in the US in a decade’s time.

Location: a lobster shop, buying a lobster roll
Mood: vexed
Music: The feds surely hope that they could finally nail me (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.

Categories
personal

Always a loser

Doesn’t really matter

One of the reasons that I liked Andor so much was because it had a clear beginning, middle, and end.

That’s such a basic thing that you’d think all published media would have, at the very least, that.

Oh man, you’d be so wrong.

Like, I absolutely loved Heroes when it first came out. Ditto for Lost back in the day.

But, somewhere along the line, they were clearly just writing to keep the money coming in and I – and a lotta other people – just lost interest.

But that’s not just with television series, that can happen in movies as well.

Clearly the Godfather and the Godfather II were excellent. But did we really need the Godfather III?

And Rocky – man, that was a perfect film. And Rocky II was pretty good. Plus, I gotta admit that didn’t hate Rocky III.

But Rocky IV turned me off and I never saw a single other sequel after that – dunno if you know, but there were eight Rocky films, total.

Not Rocky but a cool shot I took a while back.

What made Rocky perfect was that, in a nutshell, Rocky was a loser.

And it was just so real – probably because, at that time, the author and soon-to-be star, Sylvester Stallone, was also a loser at that time.

Like, the dude was so broke, he had to sell his own dog for $25 to eat.

Little wonder it was such a popular film, especially with the awkward and overweight Chinese-American crowd.

Well, one of them, at least.

Somehow, Sly managed to convince a major studio to not only buy his script but also let him be the main star in it.

But, along the way, there was a noticeable mess up that they had to fix.

See, in the final fight, Rocky wore a pair of white trunks with a red waistband and stripes down each leg.

Unfortunately, there’s a scene where Rocky sees a giant poster of himself hanging in the stadium, but he’s wearing red trunks with white stripes.

This was actually a mistake by the art department and they didn’t have the time (or money) to redo the poster. Yet this was an important bit of scenery that was needed.

What to do?

Well, all they did was to have Rocky stare at the poster and mention to the promoter, before the fight, Rocky says that the trunks are the wrong color, and the promoter says, “It doesn’t really matter, does it?”

Because Rocky was a loser and he literally just had to show up and get the stuffing beat outta him.

So, what was a pretty glaring mistake ended up pushing the point that Rocky was insignificant in every aspect.

Except he wasn’t.

Just a random story for a random night.

Him: I can’t do anything right.
Me: Don’t say that.
Him: Why not?
Me: Because when you say things, you give them life, even if they’re not true. You are what you say you are. 

Location: A bar in Brooklyn this late morning
Mood: ick
Music: wrapping up his hand, he’s getting ready for the showdown (Spotify)
Subscribe!
Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.