It’s hard to get around (things)

Navigating NYC – or just life, for that matter – isn’t easy

Reflecting pool at the east most part of East 72nd Street.Mass transportation in Manhattan is such that to go from West 79th street to East 79th Street involves taking a train down the west side to 42nd street, taking another train across the island, and taking yet another train up the east side to East 79th Street.

Think of a letter “U” and you get the idea.

Instead, took the bus across town cause I didn’t think my leg would be able to handle the trip up and down the stairs on the subway. It’s roughly the same amount of time but a straight shot – most people don’t take the bus for some reason. Which is why I try to.

I’ve noticed that it’s always some little old lady that’ll offer me her seat when she sees me struggling to board with my cane. It’s never the younger guy.

Suppose that they know how hard it is to get around, the older people.

Changing room while at MRI.Made an appointment to see get an MRI done. When I got there, the place was empty. Suppose that people have better things to do on sunny afternoon than be shoved some contraption.

Not me, of course – other people.

Was told to lie still for 25 minutes as this machine scanned me

Him: Stop moving around so much!
Me: Sorry, sorry…

As I hobbled home got a text from Paul. I’m free for a drink or something later if you’re not busy. I’ll bring the rums.

The remainder of the evening involved a good deal of self-medication.

Ended the night with a conversation with another friend over his relationship.

Said it once before: Goodbyes are sad, regardless of how it happens.

Me: You’ve been through this before and made it through ok. So has she, yeah? This’ll happen however it happens.
Him: I know…

Suppose we all know how hard it is to get around.

Location: a chair
Mood: thoughtful
Music: remind myself that times could be much worse
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Bermuda 2011

Cloudy day in Bermuda

Me: Do you wanna…?
Her: It’s Monday, Logan.
Me: Television it is.

Went with the wife for a quick trip to Bermuda last week. Normally when I go someplace, there’s usually some travelogue to go with it.

This time, however, the entirety of the excursion can be summed up as follows:

      • sleep
      • eat
      • beach
      • read
      • watch Dexter
      • watch Game of Thrones
      • rum

Repeat. It was pretty cloudy and rainy the whole time but that was fine with me as it gave me an excuse to just sit inside with a drink and read.

Parta what makes the trip so relaxing is the forced lack of net access. Have to remember that.

Going to the Caribbean is like going to the Mecca of rum. Came back with almost half a suitcase worth of the stuff. Gonna need it with the way the economy’s heading.

Piña colada in Bermuda

A few days before going, met up with Hazel and Gio for some drinks – it was like back when we were all single. To prep for my trip, ordered a Piña colada and the bartender insisted on putting a pink umbrella in it.

Him: That’s a manly pink umbrella.
Me: It’s not complete until I drink it with my pinky out.

Now it’s Monday and I’m back to work. Still got sand in my bag. Dunno if that’s a good or bad thing.

Beach sand in Bermuda
Logan Lo


Location: back in my apartment
Mood: content
Music: don’t have time I’ve still got sand in my shoes
YASYCTAI: Take a week off. (7 days/1 pt)


Getting together with friends

427 Shelby Cobra

Me: Dude, we’ve known each other almost 20 years.
Him: Crazy, right? S’funny when you start talking about time in decades.

Met up with a buncha buddies the other night; random get together over cheap wings, rum, and beer(s). They all went to Cornell but they never hung out with each other. Goes back to my theory that your friends’re mirrors to some aspect of you. Bryson’s my fighting buddy, Paul’s my wingman, and Ricky’s fellow entrepreneur – check out his nysteals.

Onea them once said to me that he liked meeting my friends cause, “You’re not a douchebag, so you don’t have douchebag friends” – which is just another waya saying my mirror theory, I suppose.

Almost four years ago, wrote about this story my pastor likes to tell.

JRR Tolkien, CS Lewis and a third writer were all close friends and when the third writer died (Charles Williams?), CS Lewis said something along the lines of “When he died, I thought, ‘at least I’ll have more of JRR, but in fact I had less,’” meaning that, when the third friend died, CS Lewis found that the third friend brought out things in Tolkien that CS couldn’t.

It’s true. Eacha those guys all draw out some different side to my personality. It’s why it’s always interesting when y’get a group of completely unrelated friends together and see what happens. We all hung out for over three hours on a weekday night without a moment of awkward silence.

On a distantly related note, my liver’s not speaking to me this week.

Location: getting ready for work at my pad
Mood: accomplished
Music: Good times, bad times, give me some of that
YASYCTAI: Get a small group of friends together just to see what happens. (three hours/2 pts)


Embracing the Randomness

Picture (c)  downtown NYC
“I’m warning you! If you fall off that eggplant, you’ll be squashed for sure!”

Last night, met up with my friend Ben – who writes Conceived and Composed, that clever pic above is his – and my other buddy, PB.

Got together to down some rum and $0.10 wings downtown. Always tell myself to limit myself to a half dozen. Never happens. We chatted about photography and life: re the former, I picked up a new shooter; re the latter, work is heating up, finally.

Am at an age now where I think I’m able to ride out most storms. The stuff that’s been going on with the Rutgers kid committing suicide got to me, like all the stories do – depression is something I think most insomniacs have dealt with and the response has been the It’s Gets Better campaign, which I’ve always believed was the case. Because it does get better.

Anywho, after stuffing ourselves with wings and booze, we discovered that a relative’s of Ben’s owns the local banh mi shop so we had to stop in there too after our greasefest. Piggies we are.

Unlike a lotta places in the world where people gotta do the terrible things to just survive, here we get randomness to enjoy. But only if we decide to do it.


Installment two of my dating/relationship This Modern Love column on Techorati is up today.

Speakinga which, gonna have to change my posting schedule to Monday and Wednesday for this here blog so I’m not super swamped. See you Monday, yeah?

Location: home, trying to get work done
Mood: hungry
Music: I’m surrounded you know, it’s all around me
YASYCTAI: Embrace the randomness. (3 hrs/1 pt)



Location: 9PM yest, my fave Dive Bar
Mood: Lit
Music: too long we’ve been living under a raincloud

Yet another bar in the city.
Her: I didn’t know until right now what you did for a living. (later) I’m amazed that you can tell people so much and not tell them anything at all.
Me: (grinning) There’re some parts of my life I like to keep private.
Furison came into town recently and we grabbed a drink tonight. She got an aged rum with a slice of orange and liked it.

Always ask people that meet me in RL if I’m the same as they read. They tell me I am and that I manage to say a lot without giving away too mucha my personal bits. That’s the goal.

Her mouth literally dropped open when she found out how much money I’d lost in my life. Like I said in my last post, funny what a body can get used to. Walked her through the pouring rain and put her in a cab on Broadway.

Me: You and my girl’re the most Asian white people I know.
Her: (laughing) I’ll take that as a compliment.
Me: You should, you should.

On a different point, a fella took the time to write me an email to say that he liked this blog. Plus I managed to settle things with that newest legal wrinkle although it means bologna sandwiches from now until winter for me.

Man, it’s always giveth and taketh away, isn’t it?


Getting like almost no comments these days so thinking maybe I should switch back to posting at night.

YASYCTAI: Ask for a glass of AGED rum, on the rocks, with a slice of rum. (1 min/0.5 pts)


How a body can fall


Bar in New York City

The ability for a body to get accustomed to things is just mind-blowing. If you ever watch things like The Pacific, you wonder how a body can fall asleep when people’re trying to kill them and bombs’re going off. And yet they do.

Got another letter and it looks like I’m off to court yet again. While I’ve won or settled pretty much all of these things, it’s still nerve-wracking.

And yet, you get used to it a little, somehow.

On another point, should just never check my mailbox. Nuthin good ever comes by post, except maybe my subscription to The Economist.

Wonder if they ship rum via mail.


Started fencing and wrestling again and left my keys at the westling place. Hadta run back downtown to get them. That wasn’t the bad part.

Me: Where’re my keys?
Owner: Right in front of you.
Me: Where? (looking down at the men’s protective cup on desk) Oh for goodness…I gotta wash them now. (removing keys from cup) I don’t know where they’ve been.
Him: (laughing) Oh you know exactly where they’ve been!
Location: room, pacing
Mood: craptastic
Music: Scared of losin’ all the time He wrote it in a letter


Eject, eject, eject

Location: 14:00, yest. spitting in Queens
Mood: pained
Music: and who needs love when there’s southern comfort?

: So the first and second molds didn’t come through. (pause) So we have to do it again. You’re very brave to do it without anesthesia.
Me: (sighing in dentist’s chair) Nvave, oke. Evexpensivecmup.
Her: (removing tube) What?
Me: Not brave, broke. I’ve expenses coming up. Do it. Don’t mind me if I cry a bit.

Y’know how I always say that your friends’re mirrors to yourself? They’re also the thermostats to your mental health.

They’re the ones that pull you back and go, “Dude, what are you doing?” It’s why nutcases like Ted Kaczynski live by themselves in the woods.

The running joke between my friends and me’s that I beergoggle. They always whisper into my ear, “Eject, eject, eject.” And I always go, “Really?” shrug and bolt. Figure that I’m about 27.3% rum most weekends (by volume, not weight) so I should listen to them.

With mobile phone photography technology being what it is, they’re right more often than not.

Not all my friends eject when we tell them to, though, which is another running joke.

Another thing I believe’s that if three of your friends tell you something, unsolicited, it’s probably true. Like if three friends tell you that you’re acting like a jerk, chances are high, you’re acting like a jerk.

A buddy of mine’s all bent outta shape about a girlie that we all roundly believe isn’t worth his time. And yet he keeps trying. He insists that this is different, that she’s different. But we both know she’s not. It’s not.

He just needs time to sober up to see it. No worries. I’ll be sure to mock him once he comes up for air. It’s what friends do.


Don’t wish me a Happy Birthday just yet. One more post tomorrow.

YASYCTAI: Get dental. Dental is totally worth it (60 mins/1 pts)


Oatmeal or gruel? Vicodin or Rum?

A root canal is nowhere near as fun as you might imagine

A tribeca apartment stoop

Her: Let’s get going to see the dentist.
Me: OK, just lemme grab my keys. (sound of cloth ripping) Um, I think I just ripped my pants.
Her: (shakes head) I’m going to wait upstairs.

Had my second root canal today. If you’re contemplating getting one, reconsider. They are not nearly as fun as you might imagine. Visit three of nine.

Know what you never wanna hear your dentist say? Well, that’s unusual. That’s what y’never wanna hear your dentist say.

Assistant: Do you want more Novocaine?
Me: (muffled) God yes.

Actually been sleeping better, what with the quantity of drugs in my system. I also bought myself a mouth guard for teeth grinding at night, so that must be helping too.  But when I’m not sleeping, I’m reading Outliers. Probably his best book – and I liked the other two. Y’should read it. We’ll discuss when I’m not so cloudy.

Saw my mom for dinner.

Her: You’re coming home for dinner? (thinking) I’ll make oatmeal then.

Instead, had rice gruel and 10,000 year old egg. So. Painful. Least it wasn’t oatmeal. To add insult to injury, evidently washing down vicodin with rum is strongly discouraged. Which means I gotta choose which pain reliever I love more.

Me: …sorta felt like a hammer slamming into my tooth…
Brother: (interrupting) Y’know, using the words hammer and tooth in the same sentence results in, one would say, dubious enjoyment potential.

On the plus side, I’m gonna see me some Fleetwood Mac tonight. But first I gotta prep breakfast.

Two guesses what I’m having.

Location: 15:07 yest, getting drilled in Queens
Mood: more ouch
Music: sings a song Sounds like she’s singing oooh baby
YASYCTAI: Eat more oatmeal – (a) because why should I be only one that has to and (b) it’s good for you. Keep telling yourself that. (50 mins/1 pt)



Sunset over Hobboken

Caribbean beach

It’s 20090125. My vacation’s over. Got some rest. Happy Chinese New Year.

Chicken crossing the road in the Caribbean

It’s 20090124. Pulled into port early. Too tired and dead to walk so I hop a cab to my pad with enough rum to supply a navy. It’s 22 degrees. Water Harold. Say Hi to George. They’re silent but I think they missed me. 212 emails. Damn email. Wrestle. Stumble to a party at Gio’s where I meet a 22 year old French girl. No lie, ask Paul. But I’ve the girlie I want most so smile politely and stumble home. Just before I go, see a buddy get her digits. Someone’s always playing the game.

It’s 20090122/23. Spend two days at sea. Which sounds like a chore but there’s this German saying that goes, Gutes Gespraech kuerzt den Weg. Season 1 of Dexter doesn’t hurt either.

Chicken crossing the road in the Caribbean

It’s 20090121. Arrive in Tortola. It’s 84 degrees. Not much to see so after 45 minutes, walk back. Another day, another sandy beach, but learned why the chicken crossed the road, and almost bought this. Didn’t. Got some sun on a deck before we headed home. Over dinner, Heartgirl and I discuss religion. Wanted to tell her that Blaise Pascal once said that Men never do evil so completely and cheerfully as when they do it from religious conviction. Didn’t get the chance. But it’s true and a good quote, so I’m telling you.

Piña colada and Rum Punch in the Caribbean

It’s 20090120. Arrive in St. Martin to go SNUBA-ing. Didn’t cause the diver said visibility sucked; cool dude – most guys woulda taken our dough and taken us for a ride. So we had three rum drinks, a Clara and an argument instead. No little umbrellas, though. Crashed the Hilton beach by the sea where I got crashed into some rocks by the sea.

It’s 20090118. Arrive in Antigua. Not much to see, so after 15 minutes, walk back. If I ever did drugs, this would be my place. But I don’t; I do rum. Note to self: See a rum factory. Another day, another sandy beach. Got a new camera a while ago. Sorry. Meant to introduce her: Clara. Learned to play 500 Rummy and taught Heartgirl how to play ChoDaiDi.

NCL Gem in St. Thomas Caribbean

It’s 20090117. Arrive in St. Thomas. It’s 76 degrees. The waters are a blue that you can only imagine. They’ve mobile service there so I ring up my brother who’s trying to figure out his love life. Someone’s always playing the game. 37 emails. Damn email. Sit by the salty sea and watch the elusive NJ Hoochie Mama perform her mating dance. The target NJ Guido isn’t impressed and takes flight.

It’s 20090115/16. Spend two days at sea. We wake up every morning at 6AM, have breakfast (carbs), work out, and eat a second breakfast (protein). There’s this saying that goes: Good conversation shortens the travel. Sounds better in German. Found out today that, round where we left yesterday, a pilot landed a plane on the water. Good. NYC deserves some win.

Deck of the cruise ship leaving the UWS docks

It’s 20090114. Water Harold. Say Bye to George. They’re silent but I think they’ll miss me. Zero out my emails. Damn email. Too awake and alive to take a cab so I walk to the docks on the UWS with my bags in tow, dreaming of rum drinks with little umbrellas. It’s 17 degrees.

It’s 20090113. My vacation begins tomorrow. Hope I get some rest.

Location: the rents for the holiday
Mood: ready
Music: My city or mountains Stay with me


Talk. I’d listen

Everything here, I say to my friends in real life; it’s why Jill thought I was giving her lines when I was just being myself.

One thing I tell people all the time is: drink rum. Seriously, do me a favor this weekend and one night do nuthin but pound rum. Mojitos, Captain n Coke, aged rum on the rocks with a slice of orange, whatever – just don’t drink any other type of alcohol.

Drink one glass of water with a multivitamin fore you sleep and see how you feel the next day. No hangover. Plus, note that you’ll feel “happy” versus “angry.” Those same two chemicals I told you bout last time not only give you that nasty hangover but also make you an angry drunk.

The beauty of rum is when you go on a bender, it only lasts that night. The next day you’re just as productive as you woulda been had you not been on a bender at all.

Rum. It’s nature’s perfect drink.

Another thing I say to people all the time is Proverbs 27:17, which goes Iron sharpens iron, so friends sharpen friends. The people you surround yourself with are your mirrors to the world. It’s also why it’s painful when people leave your Venn Diagram. You dull a little when they do.

Interestingly, that bible quote was in an article on relationships in the NY Times. The article notes that more marriages are killed by silence than by violence. It’s harder than you might think. The talking.

Her: My thing is that I just lose interest in people. You know how when you just want someone gone and you don’t even want them to say anything? Ever? I hate how that feels.
Me: (slowly) More than you know.
Her: Yes. So that’s why I wanna go slowly. I’m getting ahead of myself by trying to stay behind. Does that make sense? (pause) We don’t have to stop talking yet. You could talk. I’d listen.
Me: OK then, let me tell you a story…

Location: 8:19, trying to figure out what to clean first
Mood: excited
Music: so few come and don’t go