Tag: single life

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Crashing the party, Pt 2

Making new friends

So, there we are, two-and-a-half hours early to this birthday party and we’re just out at the park next to Chelsea Piers. I feel awful that I screwed the time up so badly for this kid.

Luckily, I had a cream cheese bagel and several oranges with me, so I give him that so at least he’s not hungry.

That killed ten minutes.

Me: Should we go home?
Him: (getting up and walking away) Nah. I’ll make some new friends.

And he does.

He literally crashes another – complete stranger’s – birthday party and becomes the most popular kid there.

This is him in the middle of the party playing with a ball.

Later on, he convinces the birthday boy to climb a tree with him and then the entire party of kids are up in this tree, singing Encanto songs.

He spends the time hanging out with them – and hanging off branches of that tree – and is soon literally leading them around the park with alla these rando ideas he has.

My buddy Steele wrote me…

When it was finally time for the party, I asked the kid…

Me: Do you want to get that kid’s number?
Him: Nah, let’s go to the party.

We do and he has a blast – 42 kids and twice that number of parents were there.

There was a plate of sandwiches there and I ate six of them because I gave the kid all the food earlier.

Him: You’re eating the tuna fish? You don’t think that’s a bad idea?
Me: (shaking head) I trust the system.

Of course, the kid sat next to the birthday girl.

Later on, we head to a much smaller party with just the family. I felt honored we were invited.

Me: Mind if I have a cup of water?
Her: Oh, just help yourself. Cups are there, you know that. You’re family!

Good friends are gold, really.

Me: (leaving late at night) Did you have a fun day?
Him: (sleepily) Yes, papa. Can I go to sleep now?
Me: (nodding)

Long story, but I was chatting with a girl we’ll call the Aerialist, who is different from the Acrobat, I know, my life is very strange – she’s really a builderer but that word just sounds weird.

Her: [This is] the most expensive gin and soda I’ve ever purchased.
Me: Well, now you have to tell me how much.
Her: $21, $25 with tip.
Me: Jesus Christ, did you get a massage with that?

She left today in a rainstorm for a trip to Spain and it got me thinking of when I was last there. A decade ago.

Also thought of the Pretty Cake Decorator for the first time in years. This was one of her favourite songs. Told her we’d take a holiday in Spain one day. We never did.

She married the guy after me; they have two cute kids now. I was happy she found her person.

Everything seems like lifetimes ago.

Suppose it all was.

Location: my pad, cancelling another date because I found a mouse in my house
Mood: still annoyed with these hives
Music: Man, it’s a miracle that she’s not living up in a tree (Spotify)
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Crashing the party, Pt 1

A walk down my memory

The problem I have with dating is that it’s totally binary for me. Either I don’t date – at all – or I have eight dates in a week. There’s no middle ground.

This is not sustainable.

Her: Where were you?
Me: I left after 20 minutes.
Her: You left?! Who does that?
Me: Me. Being, admittedly, very pretty is no excuse for being rude. And pretty girls are a dime-a-dozen. Lose my number, please? Good luck with life.

On a different note entirely, the boy’s a social animal himself.

We’re not the same, he and I.

I taught myself how to be social, never having friends as a kid. My son, though, he’s a complete natural. But lemme back up a bit first…

We start out the day at a picnic at a playground where I catch a shot of the rainbow you see above.

Then we go to my gym for a quick spell, not much to say there.

Not from that day/night but this is a fun pic.

After the gym, he and I head off to another birthday party for the Surgeon’s kid at Chelsea Piers but it’s a gorgeous day, so we walk.

Ended up walking past the Maritime Hotel, which is where Alison and I had our first real date. I wrote about it here.

I met the girl that lost her fella there as well.

Never told you that she was the coke girl. She was 22 then and dealing with the loss of the man she loved, hence the drugs and alcohol. And me in her life.

Don’t think she’s ever recovered from that loss. But that’s her story, not mine.

I get it now, though.

Me: (staring at the Maritime Hotel) I went on a date with the prettiest girl here.
Him: Mommy?
Me: (nodding) Yeah. Mommy.

He wanted to walk along the Highline so we did. The last time I was there, I was with Alison as well.

But, let’s not go down this route. Alison and loss, that is.

In any case, the Highline was packed. We went about three blocks on it before…

Me: There are too many people here and we’re close. Let’s get off this ride?
Him: OK!

Here’s the thing, I totally messed up the time and arrived at Chelsea Piers two-and-a-half-hours early.

Him: Papa!
Me: (apologetically) I know, I know, I know. My memory is swiss cheese these days.

For any other kid, this woulda been a problem, but not my bright-eyed, bushy tailed kid.

But, it’s getting late and I gotta get off this ride.

I’ll tell you the rest tomorrow.

Location: in my head, the Maritime Hotel
Mood: (still) super annoyed by these goddamn hives
Music: They don’t got a pill for this (Spotify)
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Olga of Kyiv

Forgetting history

Me: …like Olga of Kyiv.
Her: (laughing) You know about her? Why?
Me: (shrugging) I’m always drawn to stories about people that go to extreme lengths for the people they love.

Don’t think I ever told you, but Lviv had yellow green eyes – they were green in the edges but yellow in the middle.

Was always fascinated by that. Recently met another woman from her hometown with the same coloured eyes.

Must be something in the water.

If you’ve never heard of Olga of Kyiv, you should know that she’s one of the baddest-assed women people that ever lived.

She was married to Prince Igor I of Kyiv who was the leader of a tribe called the Kievan Rus’, which ultimately became modern day Ukraine.

In any case, Igor teamed up with another, neighboring, tribe called the Drevlians against the Byzantine Empire. Or, at least, Igor’s dad did.

But once Igor’s dad died, the Drevlians figured it’d be cheaper to kill Igor and take over the Kievan Rus’ than pay them a tribute. So, they did (there’s a lot more to this but you get the point). They figured that Igor’s son was only three so he wouldn’t be much trouble.

It’s doubtful they gave even a moment’s thought about Olga, Igor’s now widowed wife.

Big mistake.

The Drevlians wanted to make their treachery legit and proposed that Olga marry her husband’s murderer, Prince Mal.

Holy disrespect, amIrite?

Olga thought so too.

So, she told them that, not only was she down, she was flattered. Flattered to the point that she told them that she’d honor them by having her men carry the ambassadors’ boat with the ambassadors in them.

Well, they thought this was grand and agreed. Sure enough, when they arrived, alla these men were there to greet them and carried them all – the entire ship – into the kingdom.

There, Olga had them dropped – the boat with alla the men on it – into a ditch and had them buried alive.

Reportedly, she watched alla this and said, “I hope you find this honor to your tastes.”

Because the Drevlians back home didn’t know about this, she sent word to them that they should send “their distinguished men to her in Kiev, so that she might go to their Prince with due honor.”

So, the Drevlians gathered up their very best and sent them to Kiev.

When they arrived, she asked that they all bathe before them met up with her, which they agreed to do.

While they did so, she locked all the doors and set the entire bathhouse on fire, essentially turning them into soup.

But she saved the best for last; since this was before Twitter, she sent a third message to the unsuspecting Drevlians, asking them to “prepare great quantities of mead in the city where you killed my husband, that I may weep over his grave and hold a funeral feast for him.”

And they did that, and she went and cried at where her lover died. After she was done crying, and the Drevlians were sufficiently drunk, she had her men slaughter all five thousand of them.

Then she went back to Kyiv and raised her army to attack what was left of the Drevlians. By then, the Drevlians were so terrified that they sealed themselves up in their cities. So, Olga told them she would spare them if they sent her “three pigeons…and three sparrows from each house.”

The Drevlians were like, Shit, done and did exactly that, sending her the birds they kept as pets.

But Olga told her men to attach a small piece of burning sulfur cloth to every bird, each of which flew back to their respective homes in terror, setting every single house in the city on fire.

As the people fled, Olga and her men waited for them and killed some and enslaved others, wiping out the Drevlians from history, save for this blog entry that no one but my mom reads.

Why this story?

Well, when Putin announced that he would essentially raise a new army to try and complete a takeover or Ukraine now, I thought of it and wonder if he fully realizes who and what he’s fucking with.

That’s the problem with history, no one learns.

Putin didn’t win the first time around with his professional army; don’t see how a hastily thrown-together military of conscripts is gonna do any better.

And now there’s an entire nation of pissed off Olgas that lost the people that they love most.

Like I said, I don’t think they’re prepared for what these people can, and will, do.

A Ukrainian official tweeted on Wednesday, “Putin have [sic] not yet understood who he is dealing with.”

Agreed.

Her: And you? Have you ever been in love?
Me: Just once.
Her: What happened?
Me: Nothing I want to talk about right this moment. (changing subject) So, do people mention your eyes a lot? I’m a sucker for pretty eyes.

Location: Japanese restaurant, telling him we’re not friends, but this is a good thing
Mood: good
Music: being alone is the, is the best way to be (Spotify)
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Two unexpected silent dance parties

He’s in second grade

Think I’ve been to one silent dance party – where people dancing wear headphones to music by a DJ, but spectators generally don’t – in my life up until about a week ago.

Then I went to two within a week or so.

The first was when I went to the biergarten last week, which I didn’t know would be happening but my buddy Katrina did…

…and the second with another friend when we went to get burgers and beers around the way…

…and we ended up staying so long that it became yet another outdoor silent dance party – again, I didn’t know that this would be happening at all.

Or, rather, the food took so long that the whole thing became yet another outdoor silent dance party.

Think that’s the coolest thing about living in New York City, though; you can go out for one activity (dinner/drinks) and end up in a completely different activity (dancing/singing) with zero effort.

Check that: The weirdest/coolest thing about the night was that this fella walked up to me and asked, Excuse me, do you have a YouTube channel?

It was actually the second guy in two days to recognize me. I’ll tell you about the first one later.

Pretty flattering, I gotta say.

Her: (after) I think his friends were encouraging him to talk to you.
Me: That’s so funny.
Her: You’re a celebrity!
Me: (laughing) A D-list YouTube celebrity, but yes.

I’ve got a buncha smart devices all over our pad and, when the boy’s here, he generally wakes me up by saying, Papa, good morning! It’s time to wake up.

Well, one day when he was away, I woke up to that same sentence. (!?)

For a moment, I wonder if I’d somehow forgotten that I’d picked him up and leapt out of bed to see if he was in his room. He wasn’t.

It turns out that he figured out how to log into the family account on his tablet and made an announcement. From his grandparents’ home in NJ.

He’s definitely gonna be a handful as he gets older.

In any case, I picked him up for real last week and the pad is noticeably more joyous now.

He just started second grade. Isn’t that a kick in the head?

Him: Papa, good morning! It’s time to wake up.
Me: (groggily) Five more minutes…
Him: That’s what you always say!
Me: Because I always need five more minutes, kid.

Location: this morning, pancake brekkie with my favourite little human
Mood: tired, but oh so happy
Music: You’re my little piece of summertime (Spotify)
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Two Pizza Joints, an Indian Restaurant, and a Park – Pt 2

The Girl Before Alison

Used to take the PATH all the time to see the ex before Alison.

You know, I started this blog 16 years ago because of that ex. How silly it all seems now.

After all these years, I never gave her a name so let’s call her the Girl Before Alison.

Anywho, I used to go to the GBA’s house alla time. Like every weekend, she’d head over to mine or I’d head over to hers. For years.

But walking up the stairs out of the Jersey City Grove Street Station, I didn’t remember a single time I did it to see her. Not a one.

Then again, I didn’t remember heading there in 2013 with Alison and I desperately wished I did.

This time around, I walked down the streets to meet up with Blond Banker, marveling at all the buildings but remembering none of them.

It’s like I peeked into someone else’s life, not my own.

Arriving at Barcade, I saw Blond Banker and immediately started chatting with her and some other people there.

Woman there: Here’s a [blank] name tag for you to write your name.
Me: Do I have to put my real name?
Her: …no?

Two women I met that night both lived within two blocks of my pad on the UWS; one lived some 300 feet from my pad.

Me: NO WAY!
Her: I’m serious. I used to live XXX.
Me: Wait, next door is where I took kali for 17 years.
Her: Really!?

Everyone was very nice but I was too in my head. After a while, Blond Banker and I were hungry so we decided to get something to eat.

We were headed to a Thai joint when she asked if I wanted to eat at the rooftop bar at Porta so in we went.

Honestly, while John’s of Times Square is cool, Porta was gorgeous and looked better than John’s. That’s something.

We ordered a plate of meatballs…

…and a pizza.

Her: You’ve never had an arugula pizza?
Me: They just put a salad on top of a pizza? (shrugging) Actually, it’s fine. I’ll eat it.

It ended up being pretty good. She only had a slice or so and half a meatball so I ate almost everything and was still hungry afterward. Of course.

We chatted about life in general and dating in the city.

Me: Honestly, as an attractive blond woman, I feel you could have your pick of men.
Her: (rolls eyes) I hate the apps.

There’s more but I’m trying to keep things to my story alone, where possible.

She called an Uber after a bit and  we sat on a bench looking at yet another pizza restaurant and chatting while we waited.

It was late when she hopped into the car to head home.

I was right at the entrance for the Grove street station to head back to my world when something compelled me to walk down the street I used to walk with the GBA.

Y’know…I don’t remember what the GBA looks like anymore. I don’t think I’ve seen a picture of her in well over a decade. I do remember her voice though.

I’d been drinking so it was a bit like sleepwalking, but I started walking down Grove Street past the station and found myself in 2002 again; two decades ago, when I was a much younger man

I wasn’t yet the story that people whisper to each other, “Oh, did you hear about what happened to Logan?!”

But I’ll tell you about that tomorrow because this is getting long again.

Location: last night, Astoria, celebrating a buddy’s 30th birthday at a beirgarten until late
Mood: so tired
Music: I wish I could hit rewind (Spotify)
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Punching air

All is right, once again

My son’s been wanting two things lately: (1) To head out to the parks with me and (2) to have a shwarama.

We recently accomplished both after his last day of Chinese Summer Camp.

While he’s generally pretty hilarious, it’s always hit…

Him: You know the old saying, “If you can’t beat em, join em?”
Me: I’m familiar with the phrase.
Him: Well, in [a book I’m reading] they say, “If you can’t join em, beat em!” Get it? (punches the air) With your fists!
Me: (laughing) Valid.

…or miss…

Him: What kind of pig doesn’t like mud?
Me: I dunno. What kind of pig doesn’t like mud?
Him: The doesn’t like mud-kind!
Me: (slowly) That’s not a good joke.
Him: (sighing) I know.

…when it comes to his jokes.

The purpose of this blog was never meant to hurt anyone. It was just a place for me to put my honest thoughts. Unfortunately, it’s a little too late to be anonymous so I continue.

Still, I’m trying to be mindful that, when I tell my story, I end up telling parts of other people’s stories as well. Dunno if there’s a way to remedy that.

I try to keep information as broad and non-identifiable as possible and even try to further obfuscate things where I can.

On a related note, the woman that didn’t tell me to fuck off, has since changed her mind.

Me: You equate apologizing with being subservient. That’s not healthy.
Her: You are right, Logan. And now kindly fuck off.

Honestly, at this point, I’m finding it hard to care about another person’s mental cockroaches. Our lives are self-proving things and another person’s opinion of me is none of my business.

Told you once that I found kindness to be the most attractive quality about a person. The flip is true as well. Unkindness is the biggest turnoff for a fella like me.

So, all is right with the world once again.

Location: earlier today, getting four pounds of yellowtail tuna from Steel on the UES
Mood: completely sotted
Music: Love me or hate me, it’s still an obsession (Spotify)
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Hook me up!

Circle

Like I said, people are always trying to fix me up with someone. I usually agree just to be polite and, besides, you never know.

Maybe I’ll be set up with Mary Jane Watson, who Peter kept avoiding for months. This is what MJ said when they finally met:

A mom from my kid’s class has been running me through all her friends because she’s just a sweetheart.

And, because I figure, compared to what’s out there, I’m a catch – the bar’s pretty low, lemme tell ya.

She actually got me in touch with a producer from NBC for a segment called, Hoda and Jenna: Hook me Up!

I had a nice talk with the producer but I decided it wasn’t for me. I did tell them to keep me in mind for anything in the future.

Anywho, the segment I woulda been on ran today.

The woman, Michelle, seems like a nice lady, just not my type, so it’s good I said no.

I’ll let you know if I show up on it ever.

Speaking of dating, the Counselor gone but the Acrobat’s still (kinda) around. It’s all complex.

It’s a shame because the Counselor was cool, pretty, and smart as a whip.

On the flip side, I’ve been chatting with this one woman who seems lovely but super lonely.

Her: I don’t know. I just never connected with anyone. Not anyone worth connecting with, I guess.
Me: I get that.

I’m always surprised at just how many lonely people there are in the world.

In some ways, I feel a little lucky that I didn’t have friends growing up because it’s kinda like that old Edie Brickell song that goes:

Being alone is the
Is the best way to be
When I’m by myself
It’s the best way to be
When I’m all alone
It’s the best way to be
When I’m by myself
Nobody else can say goodbye

Legit. I believe that.

An old friend of mine just completely disappeared. Like Will Hunting at the end of Good Will Hunting.

Except I doubt it was to see about a girl.

And I’m a bit jealous. Part of me wants to do that.

Maybe someday.

Location: earlier today, being shown a broken wall where my son had to be cut out of on the Upper West Side. He was fine.
Mood: pensive
Music: I quit. I give up (Spotify)
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Always? No. Not always.

Fast as you can

Her: Have you always been such an asshole, Logan?
Me: Always? (thinking) No. Not always.

It’s been a busy – and rough – few weeks. Trying to sort it all out.

Like always.

On a related point, I was in a car with another woman from my past the other night, well past midnight.

We weren’t so much talking as she was yelling at me, unabated.

Not that it wasn’t deserved. People have always been a mystery to me; when emotions are involved, all the more so.

And with this woman, that relationship ran every single emotion in the book. Neither one of us were angels but I’m definitely not proud of myself for a lot of it.

Her: Get out.

It was a long trip back.

Wrote her an email apologizing for how things went down with us but didn’t hear back from her, which I expected. I’m not sure I’d write me back either.

She teared up in the car and I wanted, desperately, to give her a hug. But, instead, I just sat back, afraid to make things even worse.

Which would be, admittedly, impressive because it was fuck-all already.

FWIW, I never intend to hurt anyone but it seems that’s what I’m best at. Like I said years ago, I’m the skillest with my sharp objects. The killest with my blunt instruments.

My weapons of choice are a sharp tongue and blunt words.

I’ve only gotten more skilled since then, what with all the trauma.

My last serious girlfriend before Alison called me a monster. Maybe Alison was an outlier, who never saw me as I really am.

Suppose I’m grateful for that.

Have you ever heard Fiona Apple’s Fast as You Can?

There’s a line that goes, Fast as you can, baby, scratch me out, free yourself. Fast as you can, baby. Run, free yourself of me.

That sounds like a good plan for her and everyone else. I’m great at glib relationships, shit at important ones.

Except with Alison, for reasons I’ll tell you all about one day. Maybe.

But she’s no longer here. So, what about the kid? He can’t scratch me outta his life and Alison’s not here to counter-balance my beast.

I’m not good with people in any meaningful, normal way. How can I make it so that the kid is?

In a Tree Grows in Brooklyn, the mother is terrified the kids will grow up like her alcoholic husband.

I’m terrified the boy will grow up just like me.

Location: a few days ago, the middle of nowhere Brooklyn at 2AM
Mood: resigned
Music: My pretty mouth will frame the phrases that will disprove your faith (Spotify)
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Sending unsolicited duck pics

Don’t it always seem…?

My insomnia has been back with a vengeance these days.

The boy’s been away for three weeks now but, because he’s coming back soon, I met up with who I could while he was away.

On that note, I went to my office for the first time in a while. A lotta new (young) faces.

We went to the Campbell and I had some drinks with my boss before I struck up conversation with a pair of blue eyes.

I meet people every day but, just like years ago, meeting people is never the issue. It’s connecting with people of my tribe that’s the hard part.

Friend: What’s the problem? Meet someone, stick it in. It’s not rocket science.
Me: (dryly) Glad to see romance isn’t dead in 2022.

We had another Scenic Fight shoot this past weekend. It was mostly Chad and Pac because my knee’s been so jacked.

But I was busy dealing with legal issues for them, so I’ve been busy enough as it is.

My shoot was only about 2.5 hours; those guys were there from early morning to late night.

But I was running on fumes anywho, what with my knee and lack of sleep.

Pac wanted to eat, drink, and talk, though. Everyone’s got their own demons to fight.

We went to my favourite dive bar around the way. Alla the food joints near me were closed so we ordered DoorDash to bring over Korean wings.

Me: $72 for wings? That’s insane.
Him: (shrugging) Dude, I’m tired and lazy. I’m doing it.
Me: Fiiiiine…

I got a lotta ducks shirts – either ones people buy me or I buy myself – because of my tendency to send women unsolicited duck pics.

Dunno what the big deal is, frankly. Ducks are so damn cute.

Anywho, I was wearing once such shirt at this bar and the bartender and I were chatting for a bit when he says, “Hold on…” and hands me this little rubber ducky that matched my shirt perfectly.

Him: (laughing) It matches your shirt!
Me: My kid’s gonna love this, thanks!

Found it far more amusing than Pac did.

Anywho, he filled me in on his life and filled me in on some data I was missing with other things.

Him: I wanted to know your point of view.
Me: That was interesting. But, not at all, how I saw it. Here’s how I saw it…

That’s the thing with life, there’s my side, the other side, and the truth.

And that’s always the case, irrespective of what we believe.

Man, don’t it always seem to go, that you don’t know what you got ’til it’s gone?

Location: earlier tonight, 16th Street, wondering if he was gonna take out a gun and shoot
Mood: mopey
Music: Why do you want me? (Spotify)
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The Poster Child for Lame

D-List celebrity

After two days of being unexpectedly social, I was planning to stay home to drink my sorrows away alone in my pad when NC rang me up and up invited me to go out drinking with her and her friends.

Her: I’m going to Astoria tonight with Robyn and a few friends, if you want to join us!
Me: If it’s casual, I’m in.

I remembered my old rule of never turning down an invitation.

When I only know one or two people there, all the more so because it forces me to get outta my head and be chatty.

And that’s how I found myself in Queens in the middle of night having drinks with NC, Robyn, and their friends until past midnight.

Me: It’s been a strange and sad few years, Robyn.
Her: I know. I read your blog. I know about your wife. I’m sorry.
Me: (nodding) Yeah, me too.

NC and Robyn both said they’d stop by the gym, which is sweet. The gym could use a few more cool, tough chicks.

Saturday, I was determined to stay home. My therapist said that I had a tendency to ignore painful things and busy myself so as not to deal with things.

But, I decided to hit up the gym first which ended up being a bad idea because that knee injury got worse.

Afterward, I got coffee with another friend, who I just found out is an expert fencer.

She and I were in the middle of chatting about weapons fighting when the fella sitting next to us started talking to me.

Him: I don’t mean to eavesdrop but do you shoot short videos about fighting?
Me: Yes! Scenic Fights?
Him: I’m a subscriber!

It’s, honestly, super wild to me that people recognize me from it as often as they do.

Felt compelled to stay home for the rest of the weekend but then I got a call from someone inviting me the beach.

Her: Come out! Don’t be lame.
Me: Have you met me? I’m the poster child for lame.
Her: You should swing by.
Me: (laughing) One doesn’t just swing by the southern tip of Brooklyn.
Her: People do it all the time, Logan.

Later on that week, I went to see PT Steve at his PT shop to get my knee checked out.

Me: Well?
Him: You tore your meniscus. But it doesn’t seem all that bad. Just do the exercises you did before and rest.

Sounds pretty on-brand for me.

In any case, when I don’t wanna be social, I end up being way more social than I expect. When I wanna be social, it’s crickets.

Honestly, though, I need to rest up because we have another Scenic Fights shoot happening this Sunday.

Pac and I were going over our notes, plus trying to figure out how to get to an opening night movie showing that we all got invited to the following week.

It’s weird being a D-list celebrity. All I ever wanted to be known for is writing and being a good husband and father. If wishes were horses…

Me: We should be fine, three good-looking fellas like ourselves…
Him: (interrupting) Well, two of us are good looking.
Me: You rat bastard…

Location: earlier tonight, 14th Street, wondering if I should call.
Mood: pensive
Music: Surrounded by many alone in this crowd (Spotify)
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