Don’t think I’ve ever lost my cool and was happy about the results. If I can give the kid anything, hopefully, it’s a better sense of being calm and calculated.
To this end, I personally have been re-reading (ok, skimming) Meditations by Marcus Aurelius and also other stoic books here and there in the hopes that all this anger at the injustice of Alison and my dad’s suffering and deaths somehow becomes more manageable.
It’s a daily struggle, I have to admit.
One really sweet thing that we’ve been doing here at Casa Lo is to have regular board game nights with the kids.
It’s a small and silly thing but one that I appreciate greatly because children – at this age and younger – learn so much in competition and games.
Forgot to take pics, so I took the pic from this old entry in 2011 with Alison at Paul’s old pad.
We’ve been playing a few card games as well as board games, particularly what we call The Bean Game – addictively fun – and Settlers of Catan.
Both boys are pretty competitive but, because my son is younger, he’s still dealing with the emotions that come with winning and losing.
One night, recently, the kid had a particularly bad night and lost his cool, so I brought him to his room to have a chat with him.
I think I want what every good parent wants: For one’s children to be better than they are.
Hope I have enough time here to accomplish that.
After all, if we’re being honest here, it’s really the main reason I’m here.
Me: What’s the obligation of a champion, boy? Him: To act like a champion. Me:…at all times. Don’t forget that last part: At all times. Him: But you lose your temper too, papa! Me: I’m aware. I’m working on that. And that’s kinda my point: You can be better than me. And I want you to be better than me. Listen, if you act like a musician, with enough practice, you’ll be one. If you act like a BJJ player, you’ll be one. And if you act like a champion, you’ll be one. But you have to do it at all times. There’s no such thing as a parttime champion.
Her: Do you think you’re perfect, Logan?! Me: Nah – I know I have a ton of flaws. Her: I’m so glad you can admit when you’re wrong. Me: Wait, no. I said I was flawed, very flawed, which I am. But I’m also usually right. Her: (sighs, rolls eyes)
The Firecracker and I have had a pretty annoying string of luck lately.
About two or three months ago, I started doing something called Toes-To-Bar, which is pretty much exactly what it sounds like – you hang by your hands and bring your toes up to touch the bar.
It looks like this:
Except, I was doing it completely straight-legged.
Got up to as much as 15 of them before I ended up herniating a disc and it was either because of jits or, more likely, this exercise that led me to that injury.
Anywho, I let myself rest up over my cruise and came back feeling much better.
So much better that I did some toes-to-bar – just three.
Welp, that was a grave mistake.
Ended up not even being able to get outta bed the next morning.
Went to see the doc just in case it was something like cancer, though, because – with my luck – it’s not an impossibility.
Took 20 mins to get to the doc, who saw me and said, “You’re 51? And you spar and go to the gym five days a week with a herniated disc? Doesn’t sound like cancer, sounds like you have sciatica.”
The total exam took less than seven minutes.
In any case, never knew what that was and looked it up; sounded exactly like what I had.
Yay.
The Firecracker hasn’t been faring much better.
Her main mode of transportation around Manhattan is her trusty scooter – which died the other day.
So, she borrowed mine and promptly wiped out on it and had a whole bevy of minor and a-bit-more-than-minor-but-still-not-major, injuries.
To add insult to injury – pun intended – another pigeon promptly pooped on her injured arm.
Her: Cm’on!
I shouldn’t have laughed but I did.
And then a week later, a pigeon pooped on my head.
Me: This isn’t our best month.
Still, all things considered, it’s not all bad.
We’ll both probably be on our feet again – literally and figuratively – in the next few months.
The aftermath of the bird and her arm/wrist.
To be clear: Feet, not toes.
Me: What do you think about my doing toes-to-bar like this [with bent knees]? Her: I think that’s a terrible idea, Logan. Me: Thank you for your contribution.
Location: at home, doing my really boring PT and missing jits and kali
Mood: seven outta 10 pain so…grumpy
Music: where you go, that’s where I wanna be (Spotify) Subscribe! Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
I’m not slated to do any more shoots until 2025, which is great, because I’m pretty beat.
Ever since we started doing these shoots, I’ve got a newfound respect for content creators; it’s pretty draining to shoot these scenes over and over again until they’re perfect.
I just checked – I did my first shoot in the summer of 2019 and we’re now closing in on 2025. Close to six years.
Man, time is just sprinting by these days.
On that note, check out the above video – it looks like me but it’s actually not me at all!
It’s an AI generated video from my Scenic Fights producer.
Wild, right?
(The picture above *IS* of me, though).
On that note, I met up with my boss at the law firm for lunch the other day at the Bryant Park Grill.
I’ve been with the firm, in one form or another, since 2008 or so, so some 16 years.
That too reminds me that life is sprinting by.
Now that I’ve been a lawyer for close to a quarter-of-a-century, I’ve been lucky in that I can be very picky with the new cases I take on.
Him: Well, what in particular? Me: It’s gotta be something interesting OR with a huge payout. Otherwise, my patience for dealing with other people’s nonsense is pretty thin these days. Him: (laughing) I get that. OK, interesting cases or big check. Me: Essentially.
Me: I just wanted to say thank you for working with me for this past year. Therapist: Logan! You think we’ve only been talking for a year? You mentioned looking forward to your date with the Firecracker, and that was at least 20 months ago. Me: I cannot be trusted with things related to time these days.
I had my first therapy session with my therapist, Kymberly, on 2021.06.03.
She was the third regular therapist I had but the one that I’ve seen the longest and most consistently.
That’s for a buncha reasons: On the practical side, my insurance covered alla it and I could do alla my sessions at home on Zoom.
On the personal side, I knew I needed to talk to a professional, but I suppose that I didn’t realize just how much I needed to talk to one.
The first few sessions were not great as I was pretty belligerent, but she stuck with me and I her.
As time passed, I began to notice that I was less angry – still angry, just less so.
Me: There’s this joke I heard once where a man says to the other, “What would you say if I gave you a million dollars but only on the condition that the person you hate most gets two million?” And the second man replies, “Of course, why wouldn’t I want three million dollars?” Her: You hate yourself? Me: More than anyone, sometimes. (thinking) It’s a good joke, though.
Chad once said he felt that I was clinging on to a wrong relationship with a death grip because I’d lost so much already and was loathe to lose anything else.
Think that was the most accurate and sage thing he ever said.
With the passage of time, and Kymberly’s help, I was able to accept my new reality, though.
Me: Losing Alison and my dad was a bit like losing a leg. I know I’ll never be complete again, and I’ll always remember the days when I had them both here as my happiest. I know I can be happy again, I just also know that it won’t be the same because I will never be the same. Her: But this version of Logan can be happy, can’t he? Maybe not the same as before, different, but still good? Me: I suppose that’s the hope.
Unfortunately, she’s moving to a different office and one that doesn’t take my insurance. So, we have to part ways, at least for now.
She was a good therapist – and I’m well enough now, a good deal thanks to her, that I’m not in a rush to replace her.
Thanks, doc.
I’m feeling much better now.
Her: I like that analogy of your losing a leg. But, I think you can be happy again. If you’re nicer to yourself. Me: I’ll try. It’s not easy, but I’m gonna try. I’ll never be happy like I was when Alison and my dad were still alive. But…it’d be nice to be happy again.
Every so often, I’ll hear a song, and it’ll feel as if it was written just for me.
To wit, here’s a song called Decide to be Happy by a band called Misterwives.
There are several lines that I feel I’ve said here myself in some manner or another:
Been feelin’ like a stranger in my body. I haven’t been myself in a while, I’m sorry.
Got to decide to be happy ‘Cause it don’t always come naturally.
…because I’ve been on my knees so much since you’ve known me.
You know what?
Here’s the whole song and alla the lyrics – it’s worth a listen, I think.
Music, it saved me
But it drives me crazy
‘Cause it forces my eyes, to take a look and see
Got to decide to be happy
‘Cause it don’t always come naturally
Been feelin’ like a stranger in my body
I haven’t been myself in a while, I’m sorry (I’m sorry)
Got to decide to be happy (happy)
‘Cause it don’t always come naturally
‘Cause flowers, don’t grow without the rain
And goodness, don’t grow without the pain
Flowers, don’t grow without the rain
Goodness, don’t grow without the pain
I’ve been down on my knees
Prayin’ things I don’t believe
Hopin’ that it’ll save me
So I decide to be happy
I’ve been down on my knees
Prayin’ things I don’t believe
Hopin’ that it’ll save me
So I decide to be happy
My mind, it can be a scary place at times
So I hide under my bed and close all the blinds
And I cry (and I cry)
And I cry (and I cry)
Waste the day away, so I turn on the lights
And I search for a sign or a rhyme or a reason
Why I’m unsteady as the seasons
‘Cause flowers, don’t grow without the rain
And goodness, don’t grow without the pain
Flowers, don’t grow without the rain
Goodness, don’t grow without the pain
I’ve been down on my knees
Prayin’ things I don’t believe
Hopin’ that it’ll save me
So I decide to be happy
I’ve been down on my knees
Prayin’ things I don’t believe
Hopin’ that it’ll save me
So I decide to be happy
If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands
If you’re sad and you know it, well now’s your chance to dance
If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands
If you’re sad and you know it, well now’s your chance to dance
Well now’s your chance to dance, now’s your chance to dance
(Now’s your chance to dance, now’s your chance to dance)
I’ve been down on my knees
Prayin’ things I don’t believe
Hopin’ that it’ll save me
So I decide to be happy
I’ve been down on my knees
Prayin’ things I don’t believe
Hopin’ that it’ll save me
So I decide to be happy
Location: not where you might expect; a tiny room with the kid practically on top of me
Mood: soooooooooo sick – you would not believe how sick I am
Music: I decide to be happy (Spotify) Subscribe! Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
Firecracker: Someone at work thought I just graduated from high school. Me: High school?! That was a really, really, really long time ago. Her: (icily) One “really” is sufficient, Logan. Me: (nodding) Noted.
The Firecracker’s been coming with me to kali class here and there.
She’s never done any type of martial art before so it’s a whole new world for her.
But the fact that the Frenchman and his wife go, and the people are so nice, she fell right into it.
Unfortunately, because of my herniated disk and because my wrist is still bothering me, I’ve only been able to do it at far less than maximum ability.
A few weeks back, we started up with some sparring, which I had to do with my left hand because my right wrist was so bad.
This week, my back was still rough but my wrist felt better so I took a chance and sparred.
That was a mistake.
My buddy Prin – who’s also a doctor – got a clean hit right in my face.
The Firecracker, who has never seen this level of violence close up, was pretty worried about me.
Firecracker: But you have a Scenic Fights shoot in two days on Sunday. Me: Oh, shit! Boy: Daddy!
OK, that part wasn’t good.
My producer ended up cancelling alla my shoots for that day, which I felt terrible about, so I tried to think of ways to make it up to him.
But that’s a completely different story altogether.
Prin also felt terrible, but it really wasn’t his fault as I had a herniated disk and messed up wrist still so I shoulda just said no to sparring.
I keep forgetting that I’m 51.
On a related note, I spent the next few days trying to keep the cut clean and not get infected.
To this end, I’ve been rocking a Magnum PI porno ‘stache.
Not everyone is a fan.
Firecracker: (laughing hysterically) I can’t…I can’t… Me: (sniffing) Your jealousy is palpable. Her: (continues to laugh uncontrollably) I can’t breathe…
Her: Well, there’s shampoo, conditioner, leave-in conditioner, pre-heat treatment spray, anti-UV spray, dry shampoo, hair oil, mousse, and hairspray. Me: I have a single bar of soap.
I’m pretty obsessed with cancer, for obvious reasons.
Don’t know what is leading to this huge rise in cancer cases in our lives but I gotta think it’s a combination of lifestyle and environment.
And for men, a report just came out this week that by 2050, the cancer rates will double. That’s insane.
It’s tough not going off the deep end on this kinda stuff, but one thing I try to do is check my household products against The Environmental Working Group’s website.
Since Alison and my dad died, pretty much the main soap that I use in the house is Dr. Bronner’s Castile soap, which are so safe that they’ve all earned EWG’s coveted “verified” rating – their rating system is basically from 1-10, where 1 and 2 are super safe and 10 is decidedly not.
I try not to get anything above a 2 in the house where ever feasible but EWG’s “verified” rating is essentially a 0, meaning it has absolutely nuthin of concern.
Unfortunately, Dr. Bronner’s bar soaps are like $4.50 or so, which is 3X the price of a normal bar of soap and I take up to three showers a day in the summer if I’m hitting the gym.
Still, it’s a small price to pay for safety.
Having said that, I was searching for something else when I found out that Irish Spring Icy Blast is – somehow – a 1 on the EWG rating chart and costs exactly the same as any other mass-market soap, about $0.66 a bar.
I do note that it seems to contain titanium dioxide, which I’m not a fan of, but that’s pretty much it.
So, while I still have Dr. Bronner’s pretty much everywhere here, I’ve been showering with the Irish Spring for the past month, which has been pretty nice, I gotta say.
Her: You smell great! Me: Don’t I?! Her: (rolling eyes) Sohumble, Logan Lo. Me: The humblest, even.
Location: W 63rd, picking up a white printer for the kid
Mood: irritated
Music: They say it’s our fate and we’re too late, I know (Spotify) Subscribe!
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For some 18 months, I’d been trying to get a triple date lined up with Bryson and his wife, The Frenchman and his wife, and me and the Firecracker.
Bryson and the Frenchman were friends first, with the Frenchman being a white belt in BJJ when Bryson was a purple belt.
But, because life gets in the way, Bryson’s now a brown belt (4th level) but the Frenchman’s a black belt (5th level) and I’m still – laughably after over 20 years on-and-off – a blue (2nd level).
Like I said, life gets in the way.
Only found out through social media that they knew each other and, after we got together last time around, we’d been trying to do it again with no luck.
This past week, we’d finally arranged something – or so we thought.
Bryson: Hey guys I did not read the calendar right. We are [away next week after all]. We can do this Thursday or Friday. Me: I’m putting this on your list. Frenchman: Argh…that’s July 4th…sorry got a plan already. Me: Is tomorrow out? Bryson: We can do tomorrow. Frenchman: Tomorrow 6:30-7pm would be the earliest. Me: Wait, that works for us as well. 7PM tomorrow? Frenchman: Oh, wow it’s happening.
So, after months of trying to plan something, we just randomly decided to meet up around the Frenchman’s pad within 24 hours.
The Firecracker suggested Bohemian Spirit as she knows I like Slavic food and the other fellas were game so off we went.
The Firecracker and I got there first.
Me: Oh man, this place is super cute. Her: I figured you’d want to be able to take pics. Me: (later, to waitress) Hey, do the chairs on the wall/ceiling mean something? Waitress: (laughing) It means my boss was bored during COVID.
But, since everyone’s so chill, we all fell into a really easy conversation pretty quickly.
The food was killer to boot.
Me: Did you know that about 30% – or something – of people don’t have an internal monologue? Frenchman: Wait, what does that mean? You have conversations with yourselves? Firecracker: What? You don’t? Me: You don’t talk to yourself?! Nikki: I don’t talk to myself either. Me: Whoa, is that 30%? Firecracker: Your math is off. Me: Asians are not known for their math skills.
Turns out that the Frenchman – and possibly Nikki but she was sitting farther from me – don’t have internal monologues.
Evidently, he thinks in images and concepts but doesn’t actually have a conversation with himself.
This was a pretty hot-button topic for us to end out the night but that’s more their story than mine, so I’ll stop here.
The Firecracker and I were stupid full, and she suggested that we walk home from the Upper East Side to the Upper West Side.
Her: It’s just like a mile. We can do that easy. Me: Fine, but you’ll have to protect me if someone attacks us.
Can’t remember the last time that I walked across the park at night.
It was nice.
Actually, the whole evening was nice.
I’d do it again. Although, hopefully, earlier than 18 months.
Me: I have all this useless information in my head for some reason. Like, which do you think came first, Mexico or New Mexico? Her: I would think Mexico. Me: And you would be wrong.
If social media has taught me one thing, it’s that (a) people are easily fooled because (b) we put a outsized value on common sense – but “common sense,” differs radically from one group to another.
For example, the German word for “debt” is the same as their word for “fault” and “shame” (in the sense of, “what a shame”) which tells you a lot about how they look at borrowing.
First, kill all the lawyers – this saying is “wrong,” because people don’t realize it means that lawyers can save them, that’s why they have to be killed first.
These are all things that have the air of truth but only a tiny bit of actual truth to them.
Like all kids, he asks a million questions.
But, for some reason, when kids grow up, they stop asking questions and just assume that what they’re told is correct.
After a while, people just assume things – they don’t even need anyone to tell them stuff.
That’s why I’m hoping that the boy’ll always be curious and intellectually inquisitive.
Her: How is that possible? Me: New Mexico was first called that in 1598 (Nuevo México) but what we now know as Mexico was never known as that until 1821; prior to that, it was known as New Spain.
Her: Can you imagine what George Washington would say right now? Me: “What an asshole?” Her: Exactly.
A good buddy of mine hurt his leg the other day doing a harai goshi and sent me a video of it.
Fast-forward to earlier this week and the kid tried the same throw and almost broke his leg.
Him: Why are you mad at me?! Me: I’m not mad at you, kid. I’m worried you’re gonna break your leg!
By Gotcha2 – Own work, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=3096148
Both the body and mind grow through adversity.
This fella named Arthur Golden once said, Adversity is like a strong wind. It tears away from us all but the things that cannot be torn, so that we see ourselves as we really are.
Wanna give the boy enough stress to make him better, but not so much so as to make him worse.
On that note, I just went to my local urgent care office – again – because I thought I fractured my wrist in jits the other day.
Doctor: What happened? Me: Essentially, I forgot that I’m 51 and not 17. Him: (nodding) Ah…we get that a lot here. Me: Yup.
Turns out that I didn’t have any broken bones, just a particularly bad strain.
The weirdest part was that no “event” happened – I just walked off the mat at the end and could barely move my wrist.
Not much to do but rest it up and hope it heals quickly.
I still have a small handful of kali students that I train over Zoom.
One of them is a doctor from Pittsburg that was in town the other day visiting his sister, who just happens to also live on the UWS.
So, we met up for a really brief bit to have a cuppa joe.
Me: It’s crazy when I think about it. My great grandmother was so poor that she sold her only child – my grandmother – to another family because she couldn’t afford to support her. She died not soon afterward. And here I am, an ivy league educated lawyer living in Manhattan. Nuts. Him: Surprising how much similar history [we have] being second generation children of immigrants. Me: Yeah. I wish my dad was still alive so I could tell him that I’m so sorry for being such an asshole when I was a teenager.
Her: I like room temperature soda. Me: I only realized now that I’m dating a psychopath.
Not been sleeping well for a while now. It’s a long story.
Been thinking about Alison and my dad a lot lately for a whole buncha reasons we don’t need to get into, but one small reason is Princess Kate.
The fact that she and King Charles both have cancer should be a wake up call to everyone for a simple reason:
If two people that have the best of everything – healthcare, food, trainers, etc. – can get cancer, anyone can.
You definitely can.
In the 1970s, a fella you never heard of named Kotaku Wamura was the mayor of a Japanese town you never heard of, Fudai.
When Warmura was a kid in 1933, he saw a tsunami kill 439 people in Fudai and made a kid’s promise to himself – he would prevent this from ever happening to Fudai ever again.
When he became mayor in 1970, through sheer force of will, he convinced the town to erect a 51-foot-high gate as a public works project.
He, and his supporters were mocked mercilessly as fools.
Fast forward some 40+ years to the Japan earthquake and tsunami of 2011, which I wrote about before, and killed over 19,000 people and destroyed at least 45 towns and cities.
But the village and almost all its people were almost completely unscathed.
Not a day goes by without someone saying something chiding about what I eat, how I live, or what I do.
“You eat that much peanut butter?”
“Sardines? Fish, out of a can?! Disgusting!”
“Do you really need to roll around with sweaty men every day?”
“That’s a little extreme, don’t you think?”
Essentially, the argument I hear is always something that starts with, “Everyone…”
Something is fucked in our lives and we’re all dying of cancer. I dunno what it is but I’m trying to go where science is telling me to go.
And I still might get it because the odds are shit.
But I’m gonna do everything I can to try to avoid it if possible.
You should too.
Wamura died in 1997 at age 88 and never saw that he was right. But he was right.
And I think I’m right here; just like Wamura didn’t know when the next tsunami would be, he knew it would come eventually just like I know cancer will touch alla us at some point if it hasn’t already.
Cancer doesn’t give a shit if you’re a king, a princess, a new mother, or a nobody.
It’s here to end – or at least massively fuck up – your life, if you don’t do something about it.
I’m not the one that’s living an extreme life, IMHO.
To me, the people living an extreme life are the ones that know that there’s a close to 50/50 chance at getting the emperor of all maladies and doing nuthin meaningful about it.
