Tag: stupid

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personal

Speaking of “Eat-What-You-Kill”

View of an NYC entryway

Turning from my last post, once wrote about this mouse in my house. Bugger wouldn’t die. Just disappeared one day so figured some poison or cat got him.

Fast forward to last week, when I left my pad decked out in a full suit. Forgot something so I turned around and ended up face-to-face with a mouse. We stared at each other for a second, all high noon-like, before it turned and zipped into my pad.

Ran after it, dropping my briefcase. It flew into the bathroom so I did the same, slamming the door behind me to trap us both. Grabbing the metal wastebin in there, brought it down on it over and over again, missing each time. Neighbors musta thought I was clear starkers.

Fast buggers, they are.

Finally thought I got it but turns out the dents in the can gave it a second chance; when I lifted it, expecting to find the past-perfect form of mouse, it sprang away.

So did I, leaping four feet back like a ten-year old girl doing double-dutch. Course, my bathroom’s only three feet wide so ended up smashing in my cabinet door.

Deep breath, flipped the can around and slammed it down one last time. Poor bastard, the last thing it ever saw was some crazed Asian-dude in a brown suit bringing down a dented silver metal can on it.

To say that it was a bloody mess is not taking any literary license, lemme tell you.

Dunno how people – like farmers – regularly kill things. Then again, they’re probably not wearing a sweat-soaked three-piece using a dustbin. Maybe they are; what do I know?

Sorry little guy, didn’t wanna, but had to.

Her: (noticing the missing can later) What happened to the trash can here? (surprised) And what happened to the cabinet door!?
Me: (sighing) You don’t wanna know.
Her: (shaking head) I don’t want to know.

In other news: my bathroom floor’s spotless, I’ve decided I wouldn’t last in the wild; and I still hate AT&T;.

Location: still in front of computer screens
Mood: fulla fiber
Music: Early in the evenin’ just about supper time

Categories
personal

Don’t really know

What’s the point of it all?

Cloudy day in NYC

Her: What was that sound!?
Me: Was working on something and the live power cable hit the fan.
Her: Logan! You’re going to kill yourself some day. (laughing) And your fly’s open.
Me: (slowly) Yes.

If something did happen to me, someone’d find that I’m 20% peanut butter (by weight, not volume). The remainder being rum.

Did y’have a nice Turkey Day? This year was different. Paul and WM hung up their club shoes to play board games by mine. Very Waltons.

The Professor wasn’t in town but I did see Johnny. With the exception of the Devil, he’s the onea the most dangerous men I know. That says a lot. And he brought his daughter over.

Her: I like you. You’re funny.
Me: I’ll take that as a compliment. Listen, keep your dad from punching me. He scares me.
Her: He scares me too!

This 25 year-old kid named Luis Armando Pena Soltren hijacked this plane from NY to Puerto Rico on 19681124 and went to Cuba where he spent the next 40 years in working as a day labourer.

At some point, he musta thought, What the #$@# did I do with my life?

So he came back an old man and’s sitting at some jail cell knowing that he’s thrown his life away on yet another thing that had the air of truth to it, but no real truth to it.

Him: 10 Million.
Me: Just this year?
Him: Yeah. (pause) Woulda made more if it wasn’t for this economy. Gotta fly back to China in three weeks.
Me: Why dontcha just sell it all? The factories, the buildings, all of it? Y’can spend time with your family, hang out with me. Start up that school y’always say you wanna do.
Him: (shakes head)
Me: Why not? You make more money than the pope but you’re miserable. What’s the pointa all that green if y’don’t get to see your family and I’m the only person in the world y’trust?
Him: Don’t really know.


Nietzxche was right, your convictions’re dangerous things. The choices remain the same: Change your map; Change your reality; or Keep crying.

Better work out. Next year, doubt I’ll have his daughter there to protect me.

Location: a grey, half-sofa
Mood: cheerful
Music: come with me we’ll travel to infinity
YASYCTAI: Have you considered fencing? (90 mins/2 pts)

Categories
personal

Details in my eye

NYC nighttime skyline

 

Spent last Friday bouncing around a farm in upstate NY in the rain. Funny thing was that the price for 3,441,240 SF farm is about the same as my 1,700 SF apartment.

Came back to hit up a birthday party for my bro at a karaoke joint. Friends, pizza, rum – what’s there not to like? Afterward we went to this rooftop bar in midtown. My liver and I’re on speaking terms again so took it easy.

Feel bad that I didn’t have enough time to spend with my bro but was glad to see him when I could.

Told onea our close friends and favourite people that when I was 14, I was 5’3″ and 185 pounds.

And she told us that she had a little sister that she lost when the sis was 19.

Dunno how y’make it past something like that; how do you overcome that blow?

Let’s you and I never find out, yeah?

———-

I can only hope

that Some day, some day,

not quite so far away,

the contrails in the sky

match the details in my eye

and I’ll be who

I’m meant to be.
Contrails
NYC stop sign
 You see,

I do believe I would be free

if only these memories would leave.

But then the places of my past

contrast the faces of my mind.

So then I think of them,

and they of me.

Well,

silhouette
I can only hope.

———-

Just screwing around with HTML, folks.

And now, a duck goose:

Upstate duck

 

Location: my pad all day
Mood: melancholy
Music: We stood so tall we caught a plane by the wing and held it

Categories
personal

Eject, eject, eject

Location: 14:00, yest. spitting in Queens
Mood: pained
Music: and who needs love when there’s southern comfort?


Her: So the first and second molds didn’t come through. (pause) So we have to do it again. You’re very brave to do it without anesthesia.
Me: (sighing in dentist’s chair) Nvave, oke. Evexpensivecmup.
Her: (removing tube) What?
Me: Not brave, broke. I’ve expenses coming up. Do it. Don’t mind me if I cry a bit.

Y’know how I always say that your friends’re mirrors to yourself? They’re also the thermostats to your mental health.

They’re the ones that pull you back and go, “Dude, what are you doing?” It’s why nutcases like Ted Kaczynski live by themselves in the woods.

The running joke between my friends and me’s that I beergoggle. They always whisper into my ear, “Eject, eject, eject.” And I always go, “Really?” shrug and bolt. Figure that I’m about 27.3% rum most weekends (by volume, not weight) so I should listen to them.

With mobile phone photography technology being what it is, they’re right more often than not.

Not all my friends eject when we tell them to, though, which is another running joke.

Another thing I believe’s that if three of your friends tell you something, unsolicited, it’s probably true. Like if three friends tell you that you’re acting like a jerk, chances are high, you’re acting like a jerk.

A buddy of mine’s all bent outta shape about a girlie that we all roundly believe isn’t worth his time. And yet he keeps trying. He insists that this is different, that she’s different. But we both know she’s not. It’s not.

He just needs time to sober up to see it. No worries. I’ll be sure to mock him once he comes up for air. It’s what friends do.

———-

Don’t wish me a Happy Birthday just yet. One more post tomorrow.

YASYCTAI: Get dental. Dental is totally worth it (60 mins/1 pts)

Categories
personal

The pits

A tribeca apartment stoop

Me: I think I need to go to the emergency room.
Her: OK.
        • When you make a salad, do not put in olives that have pits in them.
        • If you do make a salad that has olives with pits in them, do not serve at a dinner party.
        • If you do make a salad that has olives with pits in them, and must serve said salad at a dinner party, let your guests know about the aforementioned pits.

You can say:

a) The salad has olives that have pits in them.
b) There’re olives with pits in the salad.
c) Be careful eating this salad as the olives aren’t pitted.

Won’t belabour the point but y’know what happens when you don’t?

One bleeding guest, one shattered tooth, four tabs of vicodin, one shot of some painful painkiller, 500mg of naproxen, three shots of lidocaine, three shots of novocaine, four tabs of sleeping pills, $3,000 of tooth damage and Teeth whitening, two visits to the dentist (with another nine to go), one root canal, and more drugs.

Lots and lots of drugs. And lots of oatmeal. In fact, all the oatmeal one could eat.

In short, it was…wait for it…the pits. I really can’t stand having to even consider pediatric dentistry & orthodontics, being an adult has many challenges and pains, dental problems, I think everyone can agree, is terrible.

However, Heartgirl did get to meet my mother and speak to my brother – although the circumstances were less than ideal. So that was my weekend, how was yours?

Me: (drugged out) On the way here, I was thinking two things: (a) man, I’m in pain, and (b) wonder if that halal food cart is still serving food this late.
Her: (shakes head) You know, I was just thinking this morning that I should get all your medical information. You have the worst luck.
Me: It’s more stupid luck. than anything. (later) Hey, thanks for staying.
Her: (laughing) Where else was I going to go?

Location: my apartment, all day
Mood: ouch!
Music: well pick me up with golden hand

Categories
personal

Static

Location: three hours ago, leaving office
Mood: drained
Music: got this crazy dream of stripping down to truth and bone

All the static electricity in my building somehow accumulates in my room. That’s cause about once an hour I’ll touch something in my room and a huge spark’ll jump from me to that thing.

My roommates must think it’s strange that I randomly scream out, “Dammit!” by the hour, on the hour from my room.

———-

Speaking of roommates, might have a vacancy. I live in a 1,700 SF duplex and the room is a 500 SF room with private whirlpool bath, separate shower equipped with all the fixings and the best high pressure shower head and three six-foot closets. Email, please.

———-

Speaking of static, got some from a friend over his buddy. Basically, buddy’s a jerk and my friend admits he’s a tool. In fact, the only good thing that can be said about him is that he’s entertaining. Like a clown. And that they’ve known each other for X amount of years.

I get both reasons – but it’s a poor excuse for poor character. Who’s got the time?

As a kid, heard that Nixon was playing golf with Nicklaus one day and missed a swing. So Nixon looks around and says something like, It’s just us, that didn’t count, yeah? Nicklaus thought it was weird but was like, Whatever. Years later, Nicklaus was watching TV when Watergate happened, and he said that he knew it was Nixon. He knew it. Cause he saw what Nixon’s character was.

(If you read me, you know I hate saying facts unless I can back it up, so the closest I could find to this story was this).

And that’s the thing. My buddy doesn’t see it. But I see it. People’s true character comes out in the little things. It’s how I knew my ex was cheating on me.

Got extra weight? Work out. Got no dough? Knuckle up and make some scratch. Got poor character? Oooooh…dude, sorry. There’s no cure for straight-up tool.

For serious; more than anything, feel pity for him. Cause there’s no cure for poor character and the Devil and I know this: y’can’t hide who you really are.

For better or for worse, we both know that we can’t help being the sum of our possible pasts. Which, is unfortunate, cause I’d like to leave a lot more of me behind me.

Dammit.

YASYCTAI: Remember when I said, Get ridda mosta your jerks? Y’really should. (time/3 pts)

Categories
personal

Hustling in Seville

Location: yest, all over midtown
Mood: restless
Music: see video below


Her: (patting me on head) That’s my old man.

Spent the day trying to nail down meetings for scratch. Was almost a complete failure but I saw Heartgirl for some caffeine so that made the day go a little better.

When I was 23, managed to convince a company named Wall Street Equities to hire me over IBM and Anderson Consulting to set up 75 NASDAQ certified computers. Did it on time and under budget. They referred me to Tiffany’s, Ziff-Davis, Holland&Holland;, NatWest and a buncha other clients.

Last big tech client was Brassring.com for the Washington Post; hooked up a network with 50 nodes for them on Madison. I was…26, maybe?

Whenever some VP would walk in, they’d ask who was in charge and the old Italian consultants I subcontracted’d point at me and say, That Chinese kid. Made me laugh.

Somehow, became an old man. Still hustling though. Suppose things never change.

S’ok – (a) getting older is better than the alternative and (b) my brain still works the same way.

Her: We could catch an opera.
Me: That’s all in Italian, I don’t understand Italian.
Her: That’s not true, some are in German.
Me: (thinking) Can we see an opera that only plays songs from Looney Toons? Y’know…Barber of Seville, Flight of the Bumblebee, Ride of the Valkyries?
Her: (mute silence)

Me: I’ll take that as a No…

YASYCTAI: Hustle. Cause if you want it, you gotta hustle. (time/2 pts)

Categories
personal

First-tierers, second-stringers

Location: a yellow couch
Mood: wondering
Music: It`s up to you All I can do, i`ve done But mem`ries won`t go


Her: I was worried you were one of those religious nuts.
Me: I am one of those religious nuts.

Been busy trying to get my life in order. More craziness that I’ll tell you, as I always do, in due time.

Saw Heartgirl and I had a long discussion about our beliefs. It’s bothersome that all people know of my religion’re the shrill caricatures.

She met somea my first-tier friends. We’ve all got our first-tierers and our second-stringers – sorta like our front-runners and back-burners, yeah? They gave her the thumbs up over some watermelon soju down by St. Marks. Caught the first snowfall of the season as we walked past Kevin Bacon and Kyra Sedgwick to Katsmw‘s for some red, red wine fore heading home. Katsmw, like Heartgirl, loves sports while her husband and I don’t watch any sports. The two shared more than that in common but those’re their stories and not mine.

Sunday she and I caught brunch around the way where she somehow lost her copy of Vogue. Losing a copy of Vogue’s like losing a ten-pound weight; they just don’t disappear. On the way back, I was holding a copy of the Sunday Times out when a bird pooped on it. We both couldn’t stop laughing and almost collapsed on the street.

Told her that a bird pooping on you’s good luck so I bought an instant win lottery card for a $1 and won…$1. Of course.

Sometimes, wonder about my role in her life. Suppose time will tell. I don’t try to hide who/what I am: a nerdy, religious nut that plays/watches no sports (that don’t involve one-on-one violence), talks a lot with his hands, and is overly concerned with rum, trivia, quotes, stories, gadgets, nice clothes, and minutia.

It’s 2009 soon. I’d like some win, please. Some real win, espankyuverymuch…

YASYCTAI: It’s cold. Did you donate those clothes? (60 mins/2 pts)

Categories
business personal

Cursing buildings and mountains

Another day, another goodbye

Her: I think everyone has a person. (later) Would it matter? If I ate a shrimp or tried some fishy sushi? I don’t think it would.
Me: No – because you are who you are and I don’t want you to change because of me.
Her: I guess I really know that you aren’t my person. Sometimes I forget, though.
Me: (pause) I hope you find your person. You deserve to find your person.
Her: I hope you find yours too.
Me: (thinking) You’re a good person.
Her: I didn’t do anything good.
Me: (long pause) You wished me well. That’s something good.

In addition to that very, very sad conversation, also lost my biggest client today, my computer died and either broke my leg or tore my ACL. Crashed at the ‘rents and ConEd was doing repairs so I took a cold shower. The moment I was done, got a knock on my door.

Him: Hey just wanted to tell you that the hot water is back.
Me: (dripping wet) Of course it is.

Not a good day. But there’s this old saying that it’s better to light a candle than curse the darkness. Ended my night with a nice conversation that I’ll keep to myself but made things seem a little less dark.

Hope you had a better day than I did.

Location: my childhood bed
Mood: beat tired
Music: You’ve been good to me; have i been good to you?

Categories
personal

The dark clouds are looming

Met up with old friends at Cafe DeVille the other night.

Him: So I’ve been asking girls how much it would take for them to pose nude for some tasteful photographs. Seems the going rate’s about $25,000.
Me: $25,000? I’d drop trou $5,000.
Him: Please – you’d do it for this drink here.
Me: (standing up and unbuckling)
Everyone: Whoa, whoa, whoa, Logan!!

Bryson and I spoke the other day. Should note that his wife’s beautiful and the chief resident of a local hospital.

Him: Whatcha you doing calling my wife!?
Me: Crap, you caught us!
Him: (laughing) How’re you?
Me: (pause) I’ve been better.
Him: (later) You’re luckier than most people: You’re living the single man’s dream. You live in Manhattan. And very few people go through life with even a handful of true friends. You’re blessed, brother.

I know it. God gave me everything. Just working through some things.

My mom called me. She said that the funeral hall couldn’t fit all the people that showed up for the funeral. Turns out that grandma died of an enlarged heart. Find that strangely fitting. Shut the door to my office and quietly broke down.

Saw Heartgirl for dinner in Jersey by the pier cause she’s leaving. Was beautiful out but we could see lightning over the city in the distance. Even though she doesn’t speak German, I told her, Die dunklen Wolken sind bedrohlich.

I’m le tired…

Location: 2:00, tossing and turning in bed
Mood: le tired
Music: When will I know that I really can’t go