Tag: traveling

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personal

Five miles in Manhattan

Location: my bed
Mood: artistic
Music: Never know what we will see. Come take a walk with me.


Me: Too nice a day to wrestle. Wanna take a walk?

Her: Sure.


Me: I think they extended the bike path on the west side. We can walk down the new park.

Her: That sounds like fun. Can we go to the High Line?

Me: Sure. (later) …that is if we can ever find the entrance.

Her: It’s funny, being tourists in your own city.

Me: I like it. It Reminds me of why I like this place so much.

Her: Do you want to walk to Trader Joe’s?
Me: (pointing) It’s past that white building with the blue clock over there.

Her: (amused) I’ve been to Union Square before, you know.


Me: Yes, I know. (laughing) I just pretend you never had a life before me.

YASYCTAI: Enjoy the nice days before they’re gone. (240 mins/1 pt)

Categories
personal

DC Fat Darrell

 

Skip the first 30 seconds.

Weird thing was that I wrote a short story about a decade ago about a fairy godmother that I swear I told him about. But his version and mine’re vastly different.

Lemme know whatcha think.

Subway metro in Washington DC

Got a call at 1AM the other night from the girlie that I chatted to on a Gramercy stoop. She said I was one of the only people she trusted not to screw her over. Took that to heart and stayed awake to talk to her.

Her: So what do I do about him?
Me: Look, we all got this map of the world in our heads. And emotional pain happens when your reality doesn’t match your map. It’s like if you expect Broadway to be somewhere cause the map says so, but it’s not. So you’re thinking, WTH?
Her: So what do I do?
Me: (sighing) Y’only got three choices: change your map, change your reality or keep crying.
Downtown skyline

Question: What’s the only mammal that can’t jump?

Went to a house party on a roof the other night. Something about the NYC skyline y’can’t get elsewhere. But went to DC afterward anyway.

DC was nice. Hot. Very hot. Spent mosta the time in the museums: Natural History and American History. Place was packed; kinda gives y’hope about the future if the museums’re packed, yeah?

Managed to score a suite at the GWU Inn; had a view of Watergate. Ugly as sin.

The room was a suite cause it had a stove and fridge, meaning that we loaded up at the Trader’s Joe around the way. Then, on the way back, stopped off at Rutgers to get a Fat Darrell.

View from room to Watergate

Felt like a tubster so wrestled today. If one’s 36 with a broken middle finger, injured neck, and tennis elbow, you’d think one’d not wrestle with 20-year olds at 99% humidity.

Then again, making good choices isn’t my thing.

Anywho, a client finally called me today. Heading upstate tomorrow to try to make some scratch.

Oh, and…elephant.

Rutgers Fat Darrell

 

Location: 12:00, getting pinned on 27th
Mood: hot
Music: let’s get rich and buy our parents homes in the south of France

Categories
personal

…blue sea

Location: 22:00, yest, scrubbing my cellar
Mood: thoughtful
Music: there’s reason to believe Maybe this year will be better than the last

View of NYC from the Hudson.

Just found out an ex had another kid. A boy. And Germany’s on my mind again.

And other ghosts from my past keep making appearances.

Him: You’re so naive, Logan.
Me: The difference between you and me, is that I think people’re inherently bad, but can do great things. You think people’re inherently good – but y’like knowing how dirty they can become.
Him: (laughing) Alla these Europeans and Americans so pissed off about their white Christian children dying in Iraq and Somalia for brown Muslim babies; they got no problem saving white Muslim babies in Bosnia or Serbia. But man, brown ones? They go nuts. That is, until they can’t afford their plasma TVs.
Me: Enough…
Him: Why? Cause you know I’m right? The saying goes that, the things that piss you off the most (lowers voice) are the things you know, in your heart, are true.

There’s another saying that goes, it’s always a choice Between the Devil and the deep…

View of NYC from the Hudson.

(c) Aki Muira


YASYCTAI: Have a relaxing fourth of July if you’re on my side of the world. Y’should have even if you’re not. (48 hours/0.5 pts)

Categories
personal

Vacation

Sunset over Hobboken

Caribbean beach

It’s 20090125. My vacation’s over. Got some rest. Happy Chinese New Year.

Chicken crossing the road in the Caribbean

It’s 20090124. Pulled into port early. Too tired and dead to walk so I hop a cab to my pad with enough rum to supply a navy. It’s 22 degrees. Water Harold. Say Hi to George. They’re silent but I think they missed me. 212 emails. Damn email. Wrestle. Stumble to a party at Gio’s where I meet a 22 year old French girl. No lie, ask Paul. But I’ve the girlie I want most so smile politely and stumble home. Just before I go, see a buddy get her digits. Someone’s always playing the game.

It’s 20090122/23. Spend two days at sea. Which sounds like a chore but there’s this German saying that goes, Gutes Gespraech kuerzt den Weg. Season 1 of Dexter doesn’t hurt either.

Chicken crossing the road in the Caribbean

It’s 20090121. Arrive in Tortola. It’s 84 degrees. Not much to see so after 45 minutes, walk back. Another day, another sandy beach, but learned why the chicken crossed the road, and almost bought this. Didn’t. Got some sun on a deck before we headed home. Over dinner, Heartgirl and I discuss religion. Wanted to tell her that Blaise Pascal once said that Men never do evil so completely and cheerfully as when they do it from religious conviction. Didn’t get the chance. But it’s true and a good quote, so I’m telling you.

Piña colada and Rum Punch in the Caribbean

It’s 20090120. Arrive in St. Martin to go SNUBA-ing. Didn’t cause the diver said visibility sucked; cool dude – most guys woulda taken our dough and taken us for a ride. So we had three rum drinks, a Clara and an argument instead. No little umbrellas, though. Crashed the Hilton beach by the sea where I got crashed into some rocks by the sea.

It’s 20090118. Arrive in Antigua. Not much to see, so after 15 minutes, walk back. If I ever did drugs, this would be my place. But I don’t; I do rum. Note to self: See a rum factory. Another day, another sandy beach. Got a new camera a while ago. Sorry. Meant to introduce her: Clara. Learned to play 500 Rummy and taught Heartgirl how to play ChoDaiDi.

NCL Gem in St. Thomas Caribbean

It’s 20090117. Arrive in St. Thomas. It’s 76 degrees. The waters are a blue that you can only imagine. They’ve mobile service there so I ring up my brother who’s trying to figure out his love life. Someone’s always playing the game. 37 emails. Damn email. Sit by the salty sea and watch the elusive NJ Hoochie Mama perform her mating dance. The target NJ Guido isn’t impressed and takes flight.

It’s 20090115/16. Spend two days at sea. We wake up every morning at 6AM, have breakfast (carbs), work out, and eat a second breakfast (protein). There’s this saying that goes: Good conversation shortens the travel. Sounds better in German. Found out today that, round where we left yesterday, a pilot landed a plane on the water. Good. NYC deserves some win.

Deck of the cruise ship leaving the UWS docks

It’s 20090114. Water Harold. Say Bye to George. They’re silent but I think they’ll miss me. Zero out my emails. Damn email. Too awake and alive to take a cab so I walk to the docks on the UWS with my bags in tow, dreaming of rum drinks with little umbrellas. It’s 17 degrees.

It’s 20090113. My vacation begins tomorrow. Hope I get some rest.

Location: the rents for the holiday
Mood: ready
Music: My city or mountains Stay with me

Categories
personal

Mental Health Break

Location: 17:00 yest, finding parking on CPW
Mood: hyper
Music: blinked my eyes and you were in flight But I did not move, I just watched you fly away

Logan Lo in front of the Washington Monument

Onea the things we saw in DC was a section on bomb shelters. Submit that my parents could outlast yours in a nuclear disaster. No snub against your rents, rather a testament to the hoarding abilities of my, curiously small, forbears.

Know this cause I stayed over the other night and woke up hungry so poked around their pantry. That alone should give you an idea of what we’re talking about; who has an actual pantry these days?

Lemme tell you who – my parents.

Let’s just talk about the 100 packages of ramen there: at 536 calories each, comprised of mainly fat, white flour, and sugar, that’s 53,600 calories, or enough to keep them each alive for 22 days. That’s just the ramen. There’s also the 10 pounds of instant oatmeal, the two 50-pound bags of rice, and the two dozen boxes of spaghetti – they don’t even eat spaghetti!

They also have three, count em, three refrigerators. Three.

Some people hoard gold. Some fine art. My parents? Complex carbohydrates. God love em. Did I mention the three iceboxes?

Though y’didn’t ask, ended up cooking a frozen pepperoni pizza for four and killed it myself. Before you judge, also had an orange. Don’t tell Heartgirl as she’s ill prepared for how I eat.

In other news, after the tease of a weekend in DC, decided to blow what little coin I’ve left on a vacation in some warmer latitude. First one in over a year.

Perhaps not the most fiscally sound decision, but then again, I’m down six-figures and have a belly fulla processed cheese, so the heck with it.

Let’s call it a mental health break, yeah?

Contrail

YASYCTAI: Plan a mental health break of your own. (120 mins/1 pt)

Categories
personal

My first days of 2009

Location: 15:15 yest, Grand Hyatt, Washington DC
Mood: cranky
Music: tell them I’m fine and to show I’ve overcome the blow

Rosslyn Metro Station in Washington DC

New Year’s, had dinner with Heartgirl by mine. Ate so much that we had to leave at 23:30 to get into our fat clothes – and by “we/our,” I mean, “me/my.” But she’s a trooper. Saw the ball drop on the big screen and promptly passed out.

New Year’s day, stayed in and mostly digested but we did see Slumdog Millionaire. See it.

Friday, was on the way to see Ricky Wong and a buddy at a bar downtown when I saw a guy playing a piano on the platform in the subway station – not a keyboard, a full-on piano. Took out camera and started taking pics. When other people saw me snapping, they did as well – about 10 people all snapping pics of this dude that somehow managed to drag a piano into Union Square Station. At the bar, sat next to Jason Patric who was sucking face with some chick.

No place like NYC.

But, on Saturday, hopped into the whip with Heartgirl to go to Washington DC where we didn’t see any pianos on any of their stations. Stayed at the Grand Hyatt – nicest hotel I’ve stayed at in over two years. Note to self: buy an apartment that can fit a queen-sized bed make some scratch. Had a dinner of tapas at La Tasca where I discovered that I love tapas.

Sunday, saw the American History portion of the Smithsonian and went to the Spy Museum. When in Spy Museum, see the exhibits but avoid the interactive game, Operation Spy. You’ll thank me. Were too tired for dinner so got some sandwiches and ate on the 11th floor lobby balcony.

Monday, hopped back into the whip and took off for home. It’s PCD’s birthday, should give her a call to wish her well, but it’s late. Sure we’ll talk soon.

S’funny – used to wanna call the ex to tell her that I survived the blow. But stopped caring enough ages ago to ever bother.

Washington DC’s nice. Not as nice as NY. But nice.

So, 2009…

Lobby of the Grand Hyatt in Washington DC; view from 11th Floor
Guy playing the piano on a NYC subway platform; Union Square, 14th Street
Spanish Tapas at XXXX, in Washington DC
Heartgirl and Logan Lo

YASYCTAI: Go to a museum. Cause you just should. (90 mins/2 pts)

Categories
personal

Home

We start, and sometimes end, our journeys with our feet facing home

Statue in front of NYC Museum of Natural History

 

You ever watch The Warriors? That old school film from the 70s where that freaky dude goes, Warriors, come out and plaaaaay…. It was actually loosely based on one of my favorite historical stories. Lemme tell it to you:

Long time ago, about 10,000 Greeks fought on the wrong side of a Persian Civil war. Mercenaries. The winning side said they’d spare their lives if their leaders got together, which they did (idiots) – course they were slaughtered.

So now, the men are leaderless and hopeless. So they just decided to die.

But one mercenary, Xenophon, stepped up and said, Remember who we are. We’re warriors. If we’re gonna die, we’re gonna die like Greek soldiers – on our feet. And our feet’ll be pointing home.

So they organized and started the 2,000 mile walk home – that’s like walking from Maine to Florida. In sandals. In enemy territory. Madness.

But along the way, they went from sloppy, stupid mercenaries to disciplined Greek soldiers again. Relentless and brutal, they killed anyone in their way. Cause they were gonna get home or die trying. It was all about the trying.

10,000 men started the trip, 6,000 saw home again. The 4,000 that didn’t make it died with their feet pointing home.

That’s why I love history so. Cause it shows us where we should be going.

You know, I’m not actually Chinese per se; I’m part of this ethnic group called the Guest People. “Guests” cause we had no home – like the Greeks, we always picked the losing side in a war, far from home. All our stories, all our poems, have something to do with finding home.

2006, 2007, mosta 2008…it’s like I was in foreign places, doing foreign things. Feel like I ran about madly, trying to find my way back. To what? I dunno.

Also dunno what 2009’s gonna be like. Or what’ll happen to me or any of that. It’s all just time and tide, yeah?

But partly cause I’m clear outta scratch, partly cause I feel my teeth again, partly cause a boy can only drink so much red, red rum, and partly mostly because of Heartgirl/SING, I feel like I’m back on my feet. Or at least they’re pointed home.

Spent way too much time the past three years on my knees. Is it: My fear is my only courage; my feet are my only carriage? Doesn’t matter, it works both ways.

Hello, 2009 – been waiting for you.

 

Location: 10024
Mood: ready
Music: I’ve been up and down the highway In all kinds of foreign lands
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Categories
personal

The California Sun

Location: Santa Monica in my head
Mood: tired but hopeful
Music: something always comes up something always makes her stay


Me and my Mom
Her: You’re always seeing someone.
Me: No, I mean I’m seeing someone…
Her: (puts down hula hoop) Wait, what does that mean? (excitedly) Are you getting married soon? Is she nice? Does she want kids? What’s her name?
Me: (sighs) Clearly, I’ve just made a grave error in judgment.

Me and my Brother
Him: When I left NYC for LA, I had two suitcases and a guitar. Then when I left LA for Miami, had a house fulla crap, a cat, and a wife.
Me: And now that you’re moving back to LA?
Him: Well (thinking) I still have a house fulla crap and the cat (pause) But I’ve since shed the wife tho…

The cool thing about the people that you’re close to is the shorthand language you’ve got.

My brother used to sing in a bar while in med school. One song was about this singer in a bar that loved a waitress named Rachel who wanted to move to LA. The guy didn’t know what to say, so he just said, if you find me one, I’d love a picture of the California sun.

For years my bro said he’d move to LA. Always joked that if he ever did, I’d want a postcard from LA. Then one day he just up and left with two suitcases and a guitar. Spur of the moment thing. Poof.

Week or so later, got a postcard with a picture of the California sun and not much else. Didn’t need much else. I remember that I sat down on my striped sofa and cleared my throat. Then I cleared a place for it on my fridge.

Somewhere through the years, lost it. Stupid roommates.

S’ok though – lookee what I got today:

YASYCTAI: Send someone a nice picture. If y’got time, send me one too. (1 mins/0.5 pts)

Categories
personal

Miami

Me: You look like a betting man. If I can get you 25 people, mostly girlies, will you get me a table?
Him: I’ll do better than that, I’ll get you a bottle.

Went to Florida for 20somthing hours over the weekend. Last minute decision; my brother’s moving to Cali so he was having a last hurrah. Started out at the Chesterfield Hotel which was fulla doctors, nurses and booze. Lotsa booze. Onea the guys was getting frisky with onea the girls.

Her: (to guy) Why are you touching me? I’m unclear on that.

Then we hopped over to a club called Cameo where, fortunately, some guy floated all of us in.

Unfortunately, a bunch of guys in masks, dogs and guns stormed the club. Fortunately, they were cops. Unfortunately, they shut the joint down, arrested all of the owners and bartenders and, more dismaying, didn’t lemme finish my drink.

Him: There’s some malfeasance going on.

The group decided to hit up another party but I ended up chatting with a promoter at another joint and managed to convince him to float us all in and comp us a bottle of vodka. He ended up buying me a buncha shots too. I like Miami.

The bartender leaned over and said she was buying me a shot of Tequila too. Told her that Tequila and I weren’t on speaking terms but she bought me one anyway. At around 2AM, she pulled me onto the dance floor. Afterwards:

Her: You’re fun. (pause) Did you say you were leaving on the 20th?
Me: No, I said I’m here for 20 hours.
Her: Are you coming back soon?
Me: Don’t think so. Gotta head back to see the girlfriend.
Her: Lucky lady. (smiles) Thanks again for the dance, Logan.
Me: I’ll let her know. Thanks for the dance, Lana.

Crashed with everyone for a coupla hours. Woke up and ate, what I later found out, were cream puffs that were in the fridge for possibly a year.

Rushed to the airport, missed my flight, so went back to brother’s. Try number two worked and I ended up in Newark airport at 21:15. Dropped my buddy Paul off downtown and zipped off to my favorite lady in the world.

Him: Mom went to bed already. We’ll get breakfast tomorrow. Nite.

Heartgirl, my favorite lady whom I’m not related to, is away for a few weeks. In Africa. Think I miss her already. But it’s probably for the best. The next two weeks are gonna be rough.

Location: finally back in NYC
Mood: tired
Music: Turning back she just laughs The boulevard is not that bad
YASYCTAI: Go somewhere completely different soon. You need a change of latitude. (Two weeks/3 pts)

Categories
dating personal

Waiting for the Right Scene / Hardest way to Travel

 

 

PCD: (turning to me) That’s not true, I haven’t kissed anyone else in a long time.
Me: Really? How long?
Her: A whole week.
Me: (quizzical look)
Her: (turning back to TV) When you stop kissing other people so will I.

My friend Joanne said once that dating past your 30s is like that board game Scene It. In the first part of the game, if you get something wrong, there’s no penalty. In the second part, you’re penalized for each wrong answer. She said that dating up to 30 is like the first part and dating past your 30s is like the second part.

Spoke to Heartgirl recently. Like HEI, she’s become what I’d consider a close friend. Well, as close a friend as I guy like me has. She thinks I’m going about this wrong, the random dating and whatnot. But I’ve done the serial monogamy thing for 16 years. It doesn’t work for me.

Without a hint of arrogance, I believe that whomever ends up with me is a lucky girlie. Cause I’m whip-smart. Given lead time to prep and the right jeans, I’m easy on the eyes. Have fairly good manners. Can cook.

Most of all, though, I’m loyal. For that girl, I can say, I’m yours. I’ve gotten it outta my system. 130+ dates later, I’m good to go. I choose you.

And yeah, I’m old, weird, clumsy, nerdy, insominatic – the list goes on. No lie, whenever there’s money left over for rum after a mortgage payment, it’s like Christmas morning.

But I know what I bring to the table. SX once asked me what entertainment I’d provide and responded, “I am the entertainment.”

One should know one’s value. Cause if your cup of self worth is only half full, why would anyone else see any more than that, y’know?

In other news, the woman I love the most in the world is on a plane to bury the woman she loves most in the world.

There’s no harder way to travel than with a broken heart. It takes 22 hours to get from here to there. That’s a long time to spend with your thoughts. If I could take that cross from her, I would.

 

Location: in front of a glass of rum
Mood: sigh
Music: Got no place to go but there’s a girl waiting for me