Was walking the kid to his BJJ class the other day when we found another lost heart.
And I was instantly back to 2006 in my old life.
At least, in my head.
In the past five decades or so, gotta say that one of the truest things I’ve ever heard was from a glam rock back in the 80s, of all things.
The song went:
I wish to God I didn’t know now
The things I didn’t know then
Fuck me if that’s not onea the truest goddamn things anyone’s ever written.
Location: my roof, wishing it would stop raining
Mood: sleepless
Music: my best friend died (Spotify) Subscribe! Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
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
We went to another of our fave dive bars, Jake’s Dilemma, and realized they only gave us two, so I had to head back to get the missing one.
The lady there was so apologetic that she gave us three freshly made ones that were hot, so we had five total.
I may or may not have eaten alla them.
Told the kid recently that I was born before Google. He was floored.
So, that got the Firecracker and me to talking.
Me: I was born before all websites. Her: I was born before mp3s. Me: I was born before the Metrocard. Her: I was born before streaming shows Me: I was born before flat screen TVs. Her: I was born before mobile phones. Me: I was born before the Russian Federation. Her: I was born before The Backstreet Boys. Me: I was born before the third brakelight was a thing, man that was stupidly controversial as a kid. Her: I was born before wifi. Me: I was born before the Euro. Her: I was born before the Czech Republic. Me: I was born before the UFC.
Her: I was born before the Berlin Wall fell. Me: I was born before the Challenger explosion.
Her: Oh, I was not!
The above is the first commercial for a flat-screen TV.
I believe that it’s at least $20,000 if adjusted for today’s dollars.
It was released in 1998, when I was still working at Cnet and I remember (a) this commercial and (b) speaking to LG about their plans to make their own flat screen TVs.
Crazy, alla these things were years/decades ago, and yet, they feel like just a few years ago to me.
Me: I was born before Diet Coke. Her: WHAT?! When did it come out? Me: Early 80s? The only real option before that was Tab. (thinking) Wait, *THAT’S* where you draw the line at my age?! Her: (shakes head) I cannot believe you’re so old…
Not my pic – this is the original can of diet coke that someone is trying to sell for $425.
While I’m now a devout atheist, you’d probably be surprised to know I was once deeply religious.
Interestingly, it was my repeated reading of the bible that really started me onto the path of being an atheist.
It’s not so much alla the insanely fucked up things the bible does and says, so much as the inconsistencies and repeated illogical situations that make me no believe.
But that’s neither here nor there.
On the topic of Easter, the story goes that Pilate didn’t kill Jesus, despite being the highest legal authority in the area.
Rather, he merely stepped aside so others could do it and he could have clean hands, literally, as he washed his hands of the entire affair (Matthew 27:24).
I was ’round when Jesus Christ
Had his moment of doubt and pain
Made damn sure that Pilate
Washed his hands and sealed his fate
Strictly speaking, it’s unclear whose fate was sealed by this action:
Yes, Pilate sealed Jesus’s fate by not doing anything; he effectively made it so that the mob was able to have Jesus killed for standing up to the wealthy class.
But Pilate also sealed his own fate as well, once he let an innocent man die for doing the right thing, he was forever damned. Because he knew he was letting an innocent man die and no amount of hand washing could clean his hands of the stain.
The wealthiest in America are on track to kill off:
Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion – these are somehow bad things and bad words now.
USAID
Medicaid
Social Security
Education
etc.
And, it seems, we’ve sealed their fates, the fates of hundreds of thousands of people – and our own – by doing nothing.
Every time I think I can’t be any more disappointed in the world, I’m proven wrong yet again.
Location: Home Depot, picking up bullnose tiles
Mood: disappointed
Music: after all it was you and me (Spotify) Subscribe! Like this post? Tell someone about it by clicking a button below.
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: I’m not against it per se but, Logan, if we have a kid, say, next year. You’ll be 73 when she’s 21. Do you really want to be 73 with a 21-year-old kid? Me: Whoa, I never thought of it like that.
Alison was the oldest of three; two girls and a boy.
As the middle of three, we were the mirror of that; two boys and a girl.
She always wanted two or three kids, whereas I always wanted three. My son was always supposed to be the oldest of – ideally for me – three kids.
After Alison died, the thought of more kids was the furthest thing from my mind. After I started feeling better, I kept thinking that I needed to get into a stable relationship ASAP so that I could give the kid some siblings, which he’s always wanted.
That might have put undue pressure on my relationships after Alison.
The Firecracker and I discussed having more kids. I still dream of having more kids but I’m 52 this week (!!).
The practicality of having more kids seems less practical by the minute.
Although the NFL Player insists that we won’t regret it if we do – and he’s right, I’m sure we wouldn’t regret it. The issue is everything involved in it.
And the fact that the kid’s birth was so much joy wrapped up in so much horror further makes me more hesitant.
To this end, I’ve begun giving away alla the things I’ve been keeping the basement for the past seven or eight years in the hopes of having another kid.
Gave away a baby diaper pail, a chair that Alison got to nurse on, and the kid’s crib, which was probably the hardest thing to give away.
I love the boy in a way that I don’t have words to adequately express it.
And I’m sure I’d love whatever siblings he might have.
So, I do what I’ve done my entire life with everything, and do as Dumas said to do, Wait and hope.
Me: Is zero singular or plural? Him: I dunno. Me: Use it in a sentence. Him: “There are zero apples.” (thinking) Plural? Me: Yes. All whole numbers are plural except for one – negative one is also plural, which is weird but here we are.
I spend a lotta time in my head, mainly because that’s where I’m the most comfortable.
Family aside, my entire childhood was essentially spent alone. Grade school, middle school, high school, etc.
College was different, though, which I found odd but nice.
I had a lotta friends, several close ones, and yet, I spent most of my time either at a girlfriend’s or by myself in the city when I’d come down by myself.
You get used to things.
Was chatting with Rain the other day and we both commented how similar we are when it comes to enjoying our solitude.
We’re good with people; we just choose not to interact with them unless there’s a good reason.
My son is different.
He not only doesn’t like to be alone, he craves human interaction.
I wonder if that will make his life better, worse, or just different.
The hope is for him to be happy and productive, whatever either of those two things mean to him.
In my younger years, being alone was hell.
But now that I’m older, I think being with random people is hell.
The more news I read, the more I think I want to just stay home with the Firecracker and the kid and never walk out the door.
Him: Why do I need to learn all this? Me: Because there’s a limit to strength, power, or money. There’s no limit to skill or knowledge. You can always make yourself a little smarter every day. Him: But why? Me: Because it’ll mean that you can always be better tomorrow than you were today. That’s a powerful thing.
After the Firecracker and I came back from her surprise shower, we then dashed off to our local dive bar – Malachy’s – and met up with my old roomie, Buckley.
We actually lived in the same dorm waaaaaay back in 1991 (!) and kept in touch after I left.
When he moved into the city, he and I became roomies and, after a few years, he and I bought our apartment together.
I remember that my dad had questions.
Dad: You…and Buckley…are buying an apartment? Together? Me: Yeah, why? Him: Well…is there anything else you wanna tell me? Me: (puzzled) No, why? (thinking) OMG! No, we’re just friends. And poor. We’re poor friends. We can’t afford a place alone, so we need to pool our money together. Him: Oh… Me: (quickly) Not that there’s anything wrong with that. We’re just poor.
This is us in 1998, right before we bought the place.
I dunno what we were thinking with those sweaters or my goatee.
In any case, we met up at Malachy’s because that and Big Nick’s – which is where the main picture was taken – were the two greasy spoon dives that we always went to.
It’s weird. He looks like him just…older. And I’m the same.
We were literally kids when we met – like 17. And now his son is not that far off from the age when we first met.
And I’ve been chatting with Rain a lot these days.
He’s just dealing with some real estate issues and that’s kinda what I do.
That’s a pic of us back in 1998 downtown. I think at a joint called Stingy Lulu‘s (or Yaffa Cafe).
That means that every time you remember thing, there’s a (high) chance you’ll alter that memory a bit and those alterations keep piling up until you can’t trust your own memories anymore?
And that’s why I wish I had better pictures/videos to remember my possible pasts with.
Luckily, I have my friends to help me remember those memories.
Me: He was a quant at Long Term Capital, right? Him: No, he was a programmer – he was on his way to being a quant when it imploded. Me: Gotcha – I didn’t know that.
Unfortunately, I don’t have Alison here to remember the memories that mattered the very most to me.
Ah, fuck…
This is what my room looked like when it was just me and Buckley – two bachelors in the city.
A dragonfly from this entry in 2008. I have questions about that day but no one to ask.
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.
