Speaking of poems, the Firecracker and I discussed our favourite ones, and we discovered something…
Her: My favorite poem is, This Is Just To Say. Me: Mine is Red Wheelbarrow by William Carlos Williams. Her: That’s who wrote This is Just To Say! Me: What a coincidence!
You would be surprised at the regularity that she and I have exchanges like that – a “Wait, me too” kinda moment.
And I told you once that that’s the basis of all good relationships, romantic or otherwise – a shared sense of the world.
And we still share things in the world.
Me: What would you do there? Her: At Arizona Tom’s? Two step with older guys so they’d buy me a drink. Me: Kinda like what you’re doing now? Her: Nothing’s changed.
Poetry aside, it’s not like the Firecracker and I see eye-to-eye on everything, English related…
Me: I think the next thing they’ll try to get rid of will be Alcohol, Tobacco, and Fire… Her: Wait, did you just say “Ta-bock-oh?” Like “Chewbacca?” Me: What? Her: You just said, Alcohol, Ta-bock-oh, and Firearms. It’s Alcohol, Tuh-back-oh, and Firearms. Me: Well, that’s just ridiculous.
This Is Just To Say
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
The Red Wheelbarrow
so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens
When I was a kid, I loved the Support your local… films with Support your Local Sheriff as my favourite of the two.
There’s a scene where an old crook named Pa Danby is trying to bust his middle-aged son Joe Danby outta jail.
Couldn’t find that scene but the above scene is before the bars are put in.
After the bars are installed, the dad tries to yank them out with Joe’s brothers and three horses, but the men are all flung from their horses and the bars don’t budge.
Joe: I could’ve told you it wouldn’t work. Pa: Why not? Joe: Because they set these bars in too solid. Pa: What do you know about anything? Joe: I helped to set ’em in. Pa: You helped ’em put in those bars?! Joe: I didn’t have nothin’ else to do.
Hold that thought.
Did you know that Jefferson Davis was the Secretary of War for the US right before he became the President of the Confederate States?
He built up and – vastly – improved the very army that he would face himself.
[Davis] suggested that the size of the regular army was too small and that its salaries were too meagre. Congress agreed and authorized four new regiments and increased its pay scale. He ended the manufacture of smoothbore muskets and shifted production to rifles, working to develop the tactics that accompany them. Id.
Been thinking about that fact and Support your Local Sheriff a lot lately because the kid and I’ve been arguing a lot lately.
He pushes back with me on a ton of things.
Me: You were supposed to call me. Him: But you said call when I get out of school, you didn’t say right when I got out. Me: True, but the point of your calling me was so I would know when to pick you up.
And I realize that it’s a delicate balance with having him be independent but also compliant – two wholly incompatible but necessary things to successfully function in society.
Balancing it properly leads me to no end of stress and us to no end of disagreements.
But this is my job, so I do it.
After all, my dad did it for me – and I’m sure he regretted teaching me to challenge everything.
Unlike Jefferson Davis, however, I’m fully aware that however I train him to behave, I’m gonna have to deal with myself, one way or another.
Because it’s the destiny of all fathers and sons to be adversarial on some things down the line, no matter how much we support and care for one another.
Him: You didn’t say that! You just said to call you after school. Me: (sighing) Fine. But the next thing we gotta chat about is the letter of the law vs the spirit of the law…
Him: Sometimes it feels like everyone’s doing so much better than me. Me: That’s cause you’re spending alla your time looking up the ladder at everyone that has more than you. You need look down every once in a while and see how much more you have than the rest of the world.
Living in Queens, there was once a time I dreamed of living in Manhattan.
Growing up as a fat kid, there was once a time I dreamed of being physically fit.
Being bullied throughout childhood, there was once a time I dreamed of living knowing how to fight.
Being a friendless kid as well, there was once a time I dreamed of having friends.
Being a fat, clumsy, nerdy, dude, there was once a time I thought I’d never be with a beautiful intelligent woman.
After struggling for years to have a kid, there was once a time I woulda given anything to have my son.
And I never imagined that I’d be part of a creative team that’s close to hitting a million followers…le wha?
I’ve found a lotta peace in my noisy brain these past few months because I’ve really been focusing on two things:
That quote above where I realize that everything I have right now is stuff I once dreamed to have and then spent years struggling to get.
Instead of being upset that I’m so far away from my next/latest dream, I’m realizing that I’m actually right in the middle of living the last dream I had.
I’m so grateful for all the things and people that I have in my life that I never thought I’d ever have.
Pretty sure that if 14-year-old me saw 52-year-old me, he’d be both shocked and impressed.
TBH, when I really think about it, 52-year-old me is shocked and impressed with my life.
We should all be shocked and impressed with our lives.
Her: You know what, I’ll support you and do it too. Me: Really? You – obviously – don’t need to. Her: (waves hand) It’s fine. It’ll be good for me and us. Me: Oh man, you’re the best!
Been on a hardcore keto diet for a few weeks now because my producer wanted me to cut a few pounds for an upcoming Scenic Fights shoot.
I figured, summer’s coming anywho, so I was fine with it.
And the Firecracker decided to help me by doing it as well, for no other reason than to support me.
She’s just great.
Case in point: She made this killer pesto chicken the other night for everyone.
Low carb and absolutely delicious.
All-in-all, I ended up dropping a few pounds really quickly because – between my usual cooking and hers, we were killing it.
Even managed to resist my mother-in-law’s mashed potatoes – which are so damn good – when I dropped the kid off the other day.
The Firecracker, however, took some cheat days like for her birthday, where she made herself a cupcake sandwich.
She was very pleased with herself.
Besides, she didn’t have a producer to keep happy.
But everything worked out because I ended up keeping him happy by losing exactly what I wanted to, showing up at the shoot, doing my thing and calling it a day.
Treated myself to a huge steak salad afterward.
We’re close to a million subscribers on our YouTube channel but we’re also having some cool stuff happen over at TikTok as well.
Him: What is that? Me: That’s a skybridge. When I was a kid, people thought that – by 2025 – we’d all have flying cars so they would build these bridges between buildings so people could get around easier if we were all flying around. There are still a few left in NYC.
The kid noticed the below skybridge one late night when we were out with the Firecracker just outside Penn Station.
Now we’re on a quest to visit some of them if we can.
I’d already read pretty quickly but I read something once that said that the simplest way to speed read is to read with your finger, but for a peculiar reason.
Take the sentence:
The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog.
Most people don’t read it like that, they read it like this:
The quick quick brown fox fox jumped jumped over the the lazy dog dog.
They go back at least one word, sometimes two.
You probably do it too. Try it.
Just read a sentence with your finger and force your finger to constantly move forward.
At first, it’s a bit disconcerting but you get used to it after a few weeks.
That alone should increase your reading speed, significantly.
Nowadays, I probably read normally around 650 words a minute with full comprehension and as much as 750 if I really focus.
Now, I’m not telling you this to brag but to say that I was sitting bed one day watching this clip of Bill Barr commenting on meeting flat earthers.
It allowed me to finally answer the question: Where’s my flying car?
That’s why people, particularly the willfully ignorant ones, are such a disappointment to me.
There’s no end to stupid people doing stupid things and other stupid people cheering them on.
Him: Why don’t we have any flying cars, papa? Me: Because there are so many stupid people in the world, kid. For every two steps forward, we make as a society, we take one step backward. Him: Awww…a flying car would be cool. Me: It really would be.
As I was writing this entry, this article just came out about almost all Tesla Cybertrucks needing to be recalled.
You cannot make this stuff up.
Location: The sunny upper west side
Mood: disappointed
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Him: Whoa, you’re really good at that [move]. Me: It only took me 22 years. Must be a natural.
My elbow injury was the first one that I’ve had in a while.
Since I couldn’t go to the gym, I’ve been catching up on work – Scenic Fights and otherwise, as well as watching a few videos.
This fella named John Danaher – whom I used to run into alla time back in my club days – is probably the most well-respected BJJ coach on the planet.
He’s made a lotta the biggest names in the sports.
Anywho, I came across the below video of him explaining his teaching methods and it really made me think.
My very first coach would regularly completely flip out – I mean screaming in the gym like a madman, making grown men cry in front of everyone, physically assaulting his own students – when you didn’t do the move exactly as he did them or any one of a thousand little offenses to him.
Spent (well) over a decade with him with almost nothing to show for the time – a ton of other people had the same experience.
Recently, however, my skill has been expanding by leaps and bounds, precisely because I just started doing things that felt right to me.
Danaher even mentions that the goal isn’t to make robots that fight just like the coach but express themselves their own way – that’s the “art” side of “marital arts.”
That’s what my old coach never seems to have gotten.
Don’t think he realizes just how many people absolutely despise him for how much of their time he wasted.
While he certainly wasted a ton of my time, I don’t hate him.
Her: You got injured?! Again? Me: Yes. But in my defense, I’m getting injured less often…ish.
Was at the gym the other day and this younger fella, whom I’m friendly with, just ripped my arm and almost broke it.
The last time we rolled, I could tell I was frustrating him, so he was intent on winning this round.
That’s the thing; I care a lot less about winning and more about just improving in general, so this was annoying, to say the least.
Afterward, the instructor came by.
Him: Is anything broken? Me: I’m not sure yet. Him: (laughs) That’s the perfect answer. Get some ice on it.
So, I did.
It wasn’t broken but it was super sore and swollen.
It also meant that I had to sit around at home for about a week-and-a-half.
Whenever I can’t go to the gym, I actually have to try and eat well since I gain weight pretty much immediately when I can’t work out.
My Scenic Fights producer even commented the other day:
Him: You’ve been gaining a little weight. Me: Wha?! Cameraman: (shaking head) Logan? You’re outta your mind.
Anywho, as for eating well, I made a slew of roasted spicy chicken hearts the other day.
Someone convinced me to try some years ago and I got used to making them as quick and easy protein snacks.
Honestly, they taste oddly good since they’re pure protein and meat, but I get that it’s an acquired taste.
The Firecracker, for example, is not a fan.
Me: Hey, do you wanna try some of these roasted chicken hearts I made? Her: Baby, the only heart I want you to give me is yours. Me: But these are roasted with lao gan ma.
In any case, soon enough, the below poor food choices will all be mine once again.
As soon as I can move my arm.
Location: planting strawberries with the boys on the windowsill
Mood: ache-y
Music: But I survived I′m still breathin′ (Spotify) Subscribe! Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
Her: What are you writing about? Me: Peter. Her: Oh, did you know him well enough to write about him? Me: Well, his life is his story to tell. I’m just gonna write about my life and his role in it.
Pausing the usual nuthin again.
Almost exactly 17 years ago, I wrote about my buddy Mike, who was a regular in my kali class.
Older fella, I still remember that Mike had a six-pack at 65+.
Mike was the first guy that I knew as a friend that died.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t the last.
Mike died before social media so I’ve forgotten what he looks like.
But he was my friend, and I miss him.
Peter Moretti was like Mike in that he would always come to class and be a bit confused and not get certain moves because, like Mike, he was older.
But he never stopped coming and never stopped trying to be better.
This is him just a few days before he died.
His dedication, plus his incredibly easy-going and kind nature, was how I always saw him.
His Facebook feed was/is fulla things like him feeding birds like woodpeckers and ducks.
After knowing Peter a few years, I found that he was a karate instructor and fighter who could do things that I only dreamed about being able to do.
In fact, he just posted a buncha photos of himself as a young man two days before he died.
I realize now that Mike and Peter are essentially me.
They were both skilled and dangerous fighters that were once in peak physical shape.
But time takes its toll on alla us.
I figure that, in a few years, I’ll be the guy that people have to help with certain moves or things.
And they too will be surprised that I was once anything but an older fella.
In any case, I just saw Peter maybe two weeks ago. I worked with him some.
We weren’t close, at all, but we got along well.
He died in his sleep and left a buncha people that loved him and will miss him.
That’s a good way to go, if you’ve gotta go, I say.
Goodnight, Peter.
You’ve worked hard enough, and you’ve earned your rest.
Her: You don’t want to make his death about you. Me: I get that, but I also don’t ever feel right telling someone else’s story. Her: That’s true. Me: It’s a delicate balance. I suppose the main point is that the people in our lives are part of the fabric of it and Peter was a part of mine. I’ll never see him again and he was someone that I always liked seeing.
Me: He’s so dumb. Talking to him is like having a conversation with a goldfish that can tawk. Her: OMG your Queens just came out! Me: Dammit!
My Queens accent has come out twice with the Firecracker and she’s astute enough to catch it when it does.
To paraphrase Amy Ryan – who came from Flushing, Queens, same as me – from The Office: You can take the boy outta Queens…
One of the things that the Firecracker and I have been doing is digging through the dozens of board games up in here that I’ve literally never played.
They were either rando gifts or items that old tenants left in my building, and I was loathe to throw out.
Her: Wait, you own this and have never played it? How long have you had it? Me: (thinking) Jesus Christ, like 25 years?
Case-in-point, The Firecracker pulled out a board game of Yahtzee the other day that I probably had since the 90s and yet never played.
Not once.
So, she and I did just that.
We both managed to roll some pretty insane things, such that our first round was pretty impressive.
It was all downhill from there.
Exciting times here in Casa Lo.
Me: I think we should never play this again, we’re never gonna top these rolls. Her: (nodding) This is very true. No one is gonna believe us that you just rolled a full house. Me: (shaking head) Nope.
It’s not Miami, or the Bahamas, or a nice cruise but it’s something.
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.
