Tag: single life

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personal

Rosalita

My definition of success

For someone that doesn’t like to be social, lately, I’ve been more social than I intended.

Her: I can stop by with some wine.
Me: I’m not a wine drinker.
Her: But I am. Keep me company.

The gym’s been closed for the past few days to do some construction but on the last day we were open, my buddy Miller and I grabbed a cup of joe afterward.

Me: I think I have PTSD from everything that went down.
Him: (laughing) Dude, you’re the poster child for PTSD.

He told me I should try meditating to try to deal with the insomnia and intrusive thoughts.

It’s hard to quiet my racing mind but I did it because I promised I would, and I always keep my promises.

Besides, it was nice that he cared. Can’t say it was life-changing but I’ll try to keep it up.

Afterward, had dinner with a new friend.

That weekend, met up with a buddy of mine in Chinatown with our kids. We were playing phone tag for a while so it was good we finally got together.

He’s about six-foot-three so his kid, despite being a year younger than mine, was exactly the same height.

Him: What did you expect? You’re not gonna raise a basketball player.
Me: How dare you!

Brought everyone to the same Cantonese BBQ place that Chad and I go to before our Scenic Fights shoots. As always, I thought I ordered too much, but we ended up killing everything.

Him: I’m in contract for a condo on the UES. $3.2 million, plus I gotta cover all the transfer taxes and both attorneys.
Me: Jesus Christ, that’s a lotta scratch. And that was fast too.
Him: (laughing) Been looking for over a decade, figured it was time to just do it. It’s pushing our budget but it had to be done. There are only 80 units in the whole building and they were selling out fast. Oh, they have a pool so you two should come by.
Me: You’ll regret saying that.

Afterward, we brought the kids to get some dessert. It was nice that they got along so well.

We then headed out to see my mom. This is my son running down a hill to see her.

It was sweet.

While he hung out with his cousins, I met up with another buddy of mine who just got a new whip.

Him: I totally overpaid. For what I paid for this, I coulda gotten a BMW last year. Damn supply-chain issues.
Me: Had I known it’d be like this, I woulda kept my ride instead of giving it away.

He was in a mood because his girl’s dad didn’t approve of him because he wasn’t born into wealth, even though he had a great job and loved the dude’s daughter.

I told him about Rosalita (Come Out Tonight) by Bruce Springsteen. The song tells a story about a fella that loves a girl but the family hates him because he’s a musician.

In it, Springsteen sings these, somewhat arrogant but, great lines that go:

I want to be your man
Someday we’ll look back on this and it will all seem funny
But now you’re sad, your mama’s mad
And your papa says he knows that I don’t (have any money)
Whoa, your papa says he knows (that I don’t have any money)
Well, tell him this is his last chance to get his daughter in a fine romance
Because the record company, Rosie, just gave me a big advance.

Me: What can you do but live your best life? Years ago, I uploaded this to YouTube because Alison and I talked about what being a success meant. (played the above video for him) That’s pretty much the only thing I’ve ever uploaded to YouTube prior to Scenic Fights. But that’s my definition right there.
Him: I’m not there yet.
Me: You will be. The best revenge is to have a successful, happy life. With his daughter.

Afterward, he drove me back to the kid and my family, but not before I grabbed Burger King for the kids.

I ordered so much food that they needed four people to put it together.

There’s a lot more to that story but nothing you’d be interested in hearing.

The kid was pooped by the time we went home.

Him: Can we do all that again?
Me: Sure. Be the type of person that people want to hang out with, and you’ll always have people asking you to do just that.
Him: (sleepily) OK, papa.

Location: having coffee and tea overlooking Central Park with Vazquez and Crowley at 3PM on a Tuesday afternoon
Mood: busy
Music: Now, I know your mama, she don’t like me (Spotify)
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Thinking the kid and I are awesome

Trying to simplify

Since we’re talking about parenting, right after I wrote the last entry, read about a dad in a helicopter, bear hugging his daughter as the helicopter went down.

The daughter was the only survivor. He used his own body as a cushion for her.

Him: Holy shit.
Me: Right?
Him: I see you doing something like that, Logan.
Me: Jesus Christ, let’s hope we never find out.
Him: Honestly, if women knew what kind of dad you were, they would beat your your door down.
Me: How do I tell people I’m a good dad?
Him: (laughing) Easy, just show them the kid.

I’m much more careful about who I introduce to him, though.

There was one blond, hazel-eyed girl who was one of the most dispassionately attractive women I ever dated.

But I kept my emotional distance from her because she made it clear that she too “didn’t mind” that I had a kid and definitely didn’t want any of her own.

Female friend: I think she’d meet the kid and fall in love with him. Everyone does.
Me: I can’t take that chance.
Her: Wait, so that’s it?
Me: Pretty much. 

Even when I was in the height of my dating frenzy in my 30s, the paramount thing that I was looking for was someone that would be a good mother.

Ideally, someone that was also brilliant and hot as blazes was a close second but being a good mother came first. Because being a good mother/parent subsumes most of the other stuff I’m looking for.

Hot as blazes not withstanding (brilliant is subsumed under “good parent”).

And just like then, I let a lot of really great women go in the hopes of getting someone awesome – that thinks the kid and I are awesome too.

Figure that’s worth waiting for. Everything else is just wasting time. Besides, I did it once before.

Plus, I actually have two acquaintances that are going through divorces right now because they married people that are not good mothers. Full-stop.

Both are pretty gutted about the whole thing – met one of the wives as well and thought she was pretty nice but we all have our three lives.

Him: I swear, she uses him as leverage against me and that’s all he’s worth to her.
Me: Are you sure you’re not exaggerating at all?
Him: I wish I was. I think maybe if the kid was white, it would be different…
Me: Holy crap, I didn’t even think about that!
Him: Yeah. Once her family got involved, it was over.
Me: (nodding) Oh man, I’ve been there before. If the family’s against you, you got zero chance.

Life is so complex these days. I wish there was some way to simplify it. Or maybe it’s me that making it so.

Him: Can I sit next to you?
Me: Sure. Why?
Him: (climbing up onto sofa) Cause you’re my papa!
Me: Well, alllrrriiight!

And now we switch pensive thoughts for some extreme violence: The above is Chad and me breaking down a little show called Squid Games.

Definitely don’t watch if you haven’t seen it yet since it’s chock fulla spoilers.

Man, did we have fun shooting that episode…

Location: on a couch with some homemade ramen and the kid
Mood: forgetful but happy
Music: they told me I don’t need to worry (Spotify)
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I don’t mind

Dreaming of Paris

Made three women cry recently; all essentially strangers. One was business, two were personal.

Me: Do I come off as scary or a jerk?
Him: You do get intense.

The business one was over video chat. In no way, shape, or form did I attack her personally, I just wanted to know why, literally, everything my client was promised did not come through to fruition.

In 25+ years of business, I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone just break down in front of me. I don’t think I even raised my voice. No cursing, no name calling.

Her: Industry average is 15-20 days.
Me: We’re at 21 days. So you’re telling me that you’re not even doing average work. You’re offering me below average work. Lemme ask you, if you came to me and I said, “I’m gonna provide you with below average work,” would you hire me?

And then…it all went sideways. With waterworks. My client and I just sat there, wondering what the hell just happened.

The other conversations didn’t go any better.

One was sad and involved someone else that lost her family. I knew I wasn’t her fella but we traded our sad stories, anywho.

Her: Are you ok now?
Me: (laughing) “Ok,” is a very relative term. (later) What about you?
Her: I’ll be ok. I’ll leave you alone now. Thanks for listening to me.

The last was an acrobat who cooked Greek food. I seem to have a thing for short-haired adrenaline junkies with a particular look.

But she said something that irritated me no end.

Her: I’m always the girl that people want to have fun with but never the one they want to stay with. (later) If you send me an Uber, I’ll come on over.
Me: It’s late. Kid’s got school tomorrow.
Her: I don’t mind if you have a kid, BTW.

My kid is not someone you don’t mind. My kid is made of awesome. You’d be lucky to meet him, let alone, have him in your life.

That ended things before they could begin.

There’s this song where this guy asks a girl what she’s looking for and she answers, Something that I want.

It’s weird. My buddy and I meet new people all the time. It’s in our nature.

But he finds something in them that intrigues him whereas I just can’t seem to want anything from anyone.

He sees colour everywhere. I only see grey.

Him: You and your rules, Logan. They’re insane.
Me: My rules keep me, and those around me, safe. You’re safe because of my rules. Imagine if I didn’t have them. We’re where we are right now, because of my rules.

I’ve been day-dreaming of Paris lately. Sometimes, I regret deleting people from my phone and life.

But it’s one of my rules.

Speaking of fuzzy memories, on the plus side, I got some sleep recently thanks to my friend Miller, so I’m relatively more clear-headed.

Clear-headed is a relative term as well.

MIL: Did you buy me cereal and have it sent to my house?
Me: I’m gonna say no but lemme double-check.

Me: Who did you hear that from?
Pac: You, Logan. You told me that.
Me: Jesus Christ. I cannot be trusted with anything these days, man.

Location: home, with four pounds of steak, somehow
Mood: rested(ish)
Music: He’s been living in a pure illusion (Spotify)
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So Boring

Dealing with the aftermath

It’s been a strange few weeks. On the one hand, I’ve been more social than I’ve been in ages. On the other hand, I forgot how sad being social can be.

To wit, I had three women cry with me recently. One was professional – and super strange – the other two were personal. It was all quite…sad and puzzling. I suppose I’ll sort that all out and tell you about it at some point.

If I manage to sort it all out.

I’m still dealing with the aftermath of the accident. I suppose I should get my noggin checked out because, while I do want to forget things, I’m shocked at how much I’m forgetting these days. Then again, I suppose some things I wanna forget.

On that note, I met up with a physical therapist. You see, the other day, my kali coach felt I was good enough to do some stickwork with my right hand and I though I was good enough to roll with people that weren’t on my safe list.

We were both wrong.

PT Steve: Your neck is essentially fused together at two vertebrae, and almost totally straight. Your wrist’s tendons are either totally snapped off or really stretched out. And your left shoulder is completely locked. You’re going to be pretty messed up when you’re in your forties.
Me: I’m 48! And I was just in a pretty bad accident.
Him: You’re 48?! In that case, you’re actually not that bad. But yeah, you need to stop doing what you’re doing at the gym for a while.

Goddammit.

Me: Are you sure you want to go to the Haunted House by yourself?
Him: It’s fine, papa. I’m not scared.

The boy’s been incredibly social too. I recall going to two birthday parties as a kid. This kid has an event every single week and it’s exhausting.

Case in point, just this past week, he had three play dates, two birthday parties, one fall event, two late night dinners out with my friends, and brekkie with Pez and Chad just today.

And this is him being chased around by a princess.

Man, I hope he doesn’t peak at grade school.

Speaking of peaking, this UFC fighting, movie-producing, partner at a large law firm named Titus came by the gym the other day and then came by my pad for some drinks.

We met years ago at Paul’s wedding. He’s not really on social media so he only just heard about Alison recently when he stopped by.

Him: It feels like yesterday.
Me: (nodding) Alison didn’t come [to the wedding] because she was pregnant. We lost that kid, anyway. We kept losing fucking kids and then she got cancer and died. It’s all fucking bullshit. Our entire life since the day [you and I] met has been a shitshow.

Me: …and that’s what happened.
Titus: Dude, I feel like crying myself.
Me: It’s weird. It’s like I look at that past version of me and I feel sorry for him and Alison. I don’t feel like me anymore. Maybe that’s a good thing. I gotta be ok for this kid.

Paul, his wife, and his kid stopped by afterward and we all ended up going to one of my favourite local joints for a super-late midweek dinner with the kiddo.

Like I said, super social.

Titus had never seen Scenic Fights either.

Him: This is great! I’m actually buddies with the choreographer of Captain American: Winter Solider and I worked with the guys that did John Wick and Nobody.
Me: (laughing) Show them our work but tell them that we’re not jerks.

We had another Scenic Fights shoot today today, hence the early brekkie with Chad and Pez. But I’ll tell you all about that tomorrow or something.

Son: (after another late night dinner with an unexpected guest) That was fun! So many people come to see us! Will we her again?
Me: Probably not.
Him: Awwwww, why? She was so nice and pretty.
Me: I just need you, kiddo. You and me.
Him: That’d be SO BORING!
Me: (laughing) Not for me, kid. Not for me.

Location: earlier in Brooklyn, being told to say it again
Mood: rough
Music: All I need is room for you (Spotify)
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It is what it is

Some bright spots

Her: What do you mean, “You’re good at it?” How is one good at dating?
Me: There’re steps to dating: Meeting someone, building enough comfort with them that they’ll meet you again, and then want to see you again. Etc. I think I’m pretty good at each step.
Her: (dismissively) You mean like everyone in NY.
Me: If you say so, darling.

It’s been a rough week. Been in my head a ton, which is why I’ve been trying to go the gym as much as possible, despite my injuries.

RE Mike sent me an invite to yet another one of his ridonk parties and I was going to go but I feel like I’m being too social these days instead of focusing on the boy.

Plus, it’s a lot more exhausting than it was back in the day. Besides, the last one left a decidedly bad taste in my mouth for a variety of reasons, unrelated to him.

Man, RE Mike never slows down. Dunno how he does it.

As for me, heading to the gym instead was the right choice, despite my injuries. Been really careful with whom I decide to work with so I’ve managed not to make anything worse.

But I think it’s more the emotional turmoil that’s keeping me up. Well, no less than the whiplash and messed up knee and wrists.

Note to self: Slamming sticks together several times a week with an injured wrist is probably not a good idea.

Maybe that’s why I’m not that guy anymore. It was never easy to cut someone loose, but it’s even harder now.

But there are some bright spots here and there, with some old and dear friends.

Professor: I remember your dad and his cooking up a storm. A huge plate of tofu and giant prawns.
Me: Thanks. (sighing) It’s sweet that so many people remember him fondly.
Him: To be honest I’d rather trade places with you in terms of dads – then and now – poignant memories of a loving deceased dad is far better than miserable memories of a distant alive dad who I’ve heard nothing from for years. On the other hand there are dads way worse than mine, so there’s that.
Me: Yeah.
Him: Whatever – we’re almost 50 and theoretically should be past this kinda stuff – but emotions are what they are. Is what it is.

Yeah, it is what it is. Just wish it wasn’t so shitty.

Location: Earlier today, 14th and 6th, looking for carbs with my favourite tiny human
Mood: pensive
Music: been dreaming of you to come wake me up (Spotify)
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Had an accident

She keeps trying, though

Her: Do you want to do this again?
Me: I’m not sure.
Her: YOU’RE NOT SURE?!
Me: Strike and withdraw. Allow me to rephrase…
Her: It’s fine. I was just trying to be nice.
Me: But, of course, darling.

Last week, I was heading back from yet another date-to-nowhere on my scooter when I went flying at 25 miles an hour head-first into a concrete divider.

Somehow, made it to another medemerge but as soon as they saw me…

Nurse: Sir, you need to get to the ER, now. We can call you an ambulance.
Me: Can I be seen here?
Her: No, you have head trauma, we can’t see you here.
Me: I’m not going back to the ER.
Her: You could have brain swelling.
Me: I’m very familiar with brain swelling, but I’m not going back to the ER, lady. If you won’t see me here, I’m going home.
Her: Let me get the doctor. (gets him)
Him: Dude, we can an ambulance here in five minutes.
Me: No.

I have never had that much blood on me, ever. And we all know I’m clumsy as heck.

This is me AFTER I cleaned myself off. The shirt I was wearing was soaked in blood, so I get that I musta looked like a freakshow beforehand.

Spoke to my brother. Turns out that I lied to him and Chad when I told them that I didn’t hit my head. I completely forgot. Not a good sign.

But my helmet reminded me the next day that I did and that’s when I remembered that I snapped my head back.

Like way back.

Later on, my buddy Thor and I spoke.

Him: You know, if you hadn’t been doing jits all these year, you probably would be paralyzed right now.
Me: Jesus Christ, I didn’t even think of that.
Him: (cheerfully) But you didn’t!
Me: Blargh.

It was a pretty sleepless night until I gave in and starting taking Alison’s old painkillers. Two cracked teeth, whiplash, and cuts all over my face and body.

Then I slept like death. Luckily, it wasn’t actually death and I woke up.

The next day, a friend of mine was supposed to pick up my son from Queens but she never called, so I pulled myself together and went out there to get him myself.

Before I left, Chad called me to check and see how I was doing.

Him: Wait, you can’t go out there yourself.
Me: Got no choice. He has school tomorrow.
Him: I’m heading to you.
Me: I gotta go.
Him: I’m leaving now. Do not leave without me.

Ended up passing out on my couch when he came over. The two of us headed out to Queens to get him.

In hindsight, I was super grateful to have Chad come because I was clearly messed up. Plus, Tosh was pretty freaked out to see me the way I was but Chad’s always been great with him.

Chad: Hey, Papi!
Him: Papa, what happened to your face?!
Chad: You daddy had a little accident but he’s fine.
Him: He doesn’t look fine.

Lemme just say that painkillers are magical. I can see why people get addicted to them. I took them both out to eat I felt so good.

But the withdrawal, dude…is no joke.

Ran out a week later and I was in agony. But that’s a different story.

It’s been about a week and my neck and knee are still doing pretty poorly but I felt good enough to head to the gym and just drill for a bit. One fella there and I had an interesting exchange.

Him: You have seven left.
Me: Seven what?
Him: (laughing) Lives. Life can’t seem to kill you.
Me: She keeps trying, though.

It was pretty eye-opening to see who checked in on me and who didn’t. Deleted a handful of new people from my phonebook and blocked one altogether.

Although the Heiress did give me a buzz for wholly unrelated matters.

Her: Hi!
Me: Hi! I’m glad you called. Please, go fuck yourself.
Her: What?!
Me: I’m pretty sure you heard me. I’m sorry you have cancer, but, honestly, it doesn’t matter how much money you have if you act like you were raised by pigs. Do us both a favour, lose my number, and fuck off. (hanging up)

My body feels like shit but, man, mentally, I’m better than I’ve been in years.

May not be a billionaire – I’m barely a thousandaire –  but I have people in my life that I wouldn’t trade for the world.

Location: Painkillerville
Mood: fuzzy
Music: yesterday, you lied. Promises of what I seemed to be (Spotify)
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A night on the Virgin Revvel

Alesya Yelisow Alesya Yelisowa

Not the wurst night

RE Mike invited me out to a party on a ship – which is vastly different from a party on a boat – and comped me two extra tix.

I’d always thought that my SIL and Mouse would get along so I invited both of them expecting that one, or both, would demur. Surprisingly, they both said yes and the three of us had a great night.

We were supposed to link up with RE Mike and my buddy from around the way but we only saw them briefly because (a) we got there much earlier than them and (b) there was some scheduling issues.

It was the first time we were hanging out since April of 2019.

But it ended up being fine. We headed first to the restaurant.

Her: We should leave a tip.
Me: It’s all taken care of.
Her: We don’t leave a tip?!
Me: It’s all taken care of. Trust me on this.

Again, I don’t think I ever taken out my wallet a single time for anything that RE Mike’s ever invited me in all these years.

RE Mike and our buddy around the way both showed up to say hi during dinner and they accidentally took my jacket, which led to me hunting them down all night – a harder task when there’s an open bar involved.

Speaking of which, afterward we went to the bar…

…then a club…

…then a show…

…then more bars…

…before ending the night at a diner on the ship.

Her: God, that was the worst sausage ever.
Me: It was definitely the wurst. (no one thought that was funny, but I still entertain myself, no end)

I was thrilled to hang out with both my SIL and Mouse at the same time. It made me think of all my possible pasts – for better or worse – all night.

Told Mouse to be herself that night because of her last entry in her blog.

Always hated when people were cruel to Mouse, although I’m sure she’ll point out that we were cruel to each other.

The last face she makes in the video below is essentially how she looks at me whenever we’re fighting.

Later on at home that night, I had a dream. In it, a woman that I didn’t know called me and told me that an old friend of mine was looking for me.

Me: Why doesn’t he call me himself?
Her: You know him. He said you’d understand and that he needed your help.
Me: (thinking) No, he didn’t.
Her: What do you mean?
Me: Because, he would never say that. Demons in the night know their own.

Location: my childhood home for dinner
Mood: confused
Music: Wasting time and stuck inside a broken dream (Spotify)
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When $5 is more than $5

Cleaning things out

This is my last week without the boy for a while. Once school starts, he’ll be with me until December, because of the stupid Delta variant.

So, I’ve been working on getting my life on track the past month, like cleaning up his room so that it’s more functional for a young boy and not a baby.

It also includes cleaning out the last bits of Alison’s things.

It’s hard getting rid of things. Everything matters to me in some manner or another.

But the flooding was a good push for me to do what I knew I had to do.

Alison was never overly sentimental; she would rather have a clean and functional home than one packed to the rafters with unused things.

Her daily driver for outerwear was a simple black puffer coat. Of course, I don’t have a single fucking picture of her wearing it.

I gave it away yesterday to someone special, but I went through the pockets of it first. There were exactly two things there: A very neatly folded five-dollar bill and a Metrocard that expired November 30, 2015.

It was the first time I cried in 2021, I think.

I put them both away. It’s weird, I deal with value on a regular basis.

There’s a tenuous connection between value and emotions/nostalgia. Consider a cheap $0.25 pen. Now imagine it was your favourite actor that used that pen for years and then finally tossed it. Is it worth $0.25?

Or far more, because he used it? Or far less because it’s broken?

I always found that whole thing silly and amusing.

Until lately, I guess. Now, $5 is worth a lot more than $5, as is a used, expired Metrocard. At least to me.

Ah, I’m doing it again, aren’t I?

On a funnier note, I had the ABFF’s cleaner come by to give the pad a solid clean – usually it’s just me, I’m the people –  but, before she came, I wanted to give things a once-over, because I’m weird like that.

On top of one of my cabinets, I found yet another knife. That made me laugh.

I have issues.

I will say that I’ve enjoyed being able to meet up with people willy-nilly and whenever I wanted these past few weeks.

Me: Are you in the mood for wings?
Her: Depends.
Me: Goodness, on what? Even bad wings are still ok wings.

Me: Do you want to get a drink?
Her: Sure.

Her: I could go for some pie.
Me: I was just telling someone that pies are superior to cake.
Her: Let’s not go that far.

Him: I got shots. Tequila and pickle-juice.
Me: I’m pre-emptively throwing up inside.

Location: my disaster of an apartment
Mood: busy!
Music: No more waiting, I’m taking the chance (Spotify)
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Hanging with Ida and Steve, Pt 1

Why, certainly

Him: You wanna go to a Steve Aoki convert with me and RE Mike tonight?
Me: Potentially – I’m a bit worried about flooding in my apartment.
RE Mike: That’s a yes.

My buddy around the way, RE Mike, and I used to randomly call each other up whenever we got leads on parties.

Met Sue through them at onea those events. But that’s neither here nor there.

Can’t count how many times I’d show up at some fancy event with celebrities and one of those two would float me in.

Was in the middle of rolling around with Chad and my buddy Miller when they hit me up.

Hurricane Ida was supposed to hit but it didn’t look so bad so I left Paxi a bit early and headed there in the rain.

It had just started getting bad when I left the gym. But I figured it would be ok.

Always figure things will be ok. I never learn.

In any case, think out of maybe 50-70 parties with those two, don’t think I ever paid for a drink or a cover.

Tonight was no different. RE Mike met me out side of the venue and handed me a bracelet. No questions asked, they just let me in.

Should note that – because I wasn’t prepared to go out to a private concert and I was coming from the gym, I was crazy armed.

Like…psycho-level armed, for reasons we don’t need to get into but they were all valid and non-psycho. Honest.

Had about three real knives, a pair of pliers, two pens, a razor blade and at least four trainer knives.

Bouncer: Come right in. Will you check you bag though, sir?
Me: Why, certainly.

Stepping into the joint was like every other thing the two invited me to; open bar, beautiful people, and wall-to-wall food.

Him: There’s sushi and oysters being passed around.
Me: I expect nuthin less with you two.

Think the only time I had more oysters was that time with Mouse when we had four dozen. Came close, though. Demolished that tray below.

The main attraction was Steve Aoki and, man, does that dude know how to put on a show.

And, because it was an open bar, I had myself:

      • An Old-Fashioned with Rye
      • A Negroni
      • And an Amaretto on the rocks

Her: You just want Amaretto on the rocks?
Me: Yes, darling. If it’s bad, I’ll just blame you.
Her: (laughs) Hey!

It was shaping up to be a pretty good night but, my luck is ever true and I got a call from someone in my building.

Her: Water’s coming in.
Me: Dammit.

And so I ran out the door.

It’s late. I just spent the night bailing water so I’ll finish this up tomorrow.

Location: my flooded apartment
Mood: livid
Music: Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh oh, ‪if it all goes wrong, darling just hold on (Spotify)
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Categories
business personal

Spending it all

Paxibellum is open

We had our first class today at Paxibellum and it was insanely fun. We even had someone sign up off the street.

My buddy Arin was there and injured so she and I made up the crippled portion of the roll.

Afterward, I had some unexpectedly deep conversations.

Him: You seem to have a lot of anger in you.
Me: You would too if you the people you loved kept dying or leaving you.
Him: They did, Logan. (tells me)
Me: Shit! You can’t just drop something like that on someone!

That’s his story to tell, so I’ll stop it here.

Afterward, some of the investors and I met up for drinks afterward.

I’m pretty lit so I won’t say much. When I drink I’m me, just more me, somehow.

Him: How did it go?
Me: (puzzled) She gave me her number, of course.
Him: (laughing) Of course. I saw her in the neighborhood before.
Me: Sure, she works next door to us.

Evidently, Chad is more Chad too.

Me: That table of four women were checking you out.
Him: I know, Logan.
Me: (laughing) What have I done?

We are who are we are; time and chance just reveals us to everyone else.

Another investor and his son gave me a lift home.

Me: If I may, in life, you always chose between time and money. I can’t take that job because I value my time more than I do money. You’re 22. So you should chose money. But when you get to be your dad’s age – and mine – you have to chose time. Whatever you chose, though, pick carefully who you spend it all on.

Location: Union Square, all goddamn day
Mood: hella lit
Music: if I’d known, if I’d known, if I’d known (Spotify)
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