business personal

Something to me

Sunset over Hoboken, NJ pier

Sorry I’ve not posted in a while, been hella busy. Moving from one part of my building to another. Thought it’d be easy but it’s not cause one collects a great deal of – for lack of a better word – crap in 36 years. Everything has a story to it; some stories I wanna relive, some I’d rather forget.

Suppose that’s hardly news to anyone.

See that pic above? You might have seen it before. Love that pic for reasons only I and another person might know. My pastor once said that you don’t love a picture because of the paper it’s printed on. You love a picture for what it represents.

And yeah, I try to donate or toss as much of my stuff as I can. But I got some ratty things that I love, not cause they’re worth something, but cause they’re worth some thing to me. So when the guy moving in picks something up and says, Hey can you bring the garbage over so I can toss this? I reply, Oh, gimme that, I’ll toss it.

And slip it into my back pocket to put it away later, safely behind all the other crap I love, not cause it’s worth something, but cause it’s worth some thing to me.

A ball at 583 Park Avenue

Last week, went to a genuine ball. Was a fundraiser event for Helen Keller International: $1,500 a plate, auctions going for $50,000. The full nine.

Sat at a table of lawyers and next to a pretty blond. $1,500 dinners are wasted on people like me; always think, Man, I could have made that better. Probably not true but it’s my head, I get to think what I wanna.

Had this cool British auctioneer that was going nuts; made me wanna bid for something. Couldn’t though, one trip to Umbria cost like $50K.

Managed to get semi-floated in; felt I should contribute something and I did, in my own way.

On the way there and back, got caught in the rain. It’s all just peaks and valleys, isn’t it?

So, you miss me?

HKI ball at 583 Park Avenue
Christie's auctioneer at Helen Keller's 583 Park Avenue Gala
HKI Umbia auction

Location: my new(ish) room
Mood: beat
Music: been looking so long at these pictures of you (Spotify)


Swept Away

Location: my living room
Mood: cautious
Music: I know exactly how he feels

Nantes, France, at dusk.

: You’ll meet her Friday – don’t tell me what you think of her.
Him: Don’t tell you?
Me: No. Cause I think she’s amazing and don’t wanna hear it any other way.

Friday was Paul’s B-day so we headed down to our usual joint. Some shots, some rum, some conversation. The usual NYC twirl. Bumped into a curly-haired blond downtown and she said “Excuse you,” with a big toothy smile. I smiled back politely but slipped out the door with Heartgirl by 1AM.

Her: Your friends are nice. I can see why you’re friends with them. That’s not always the case.
Me: I’m 35. (pause) Got ridda mosta the jerks by now.

Spent mosta Saturday and all of Sunday by myself. Me time is always a good time. Chatted with PCD online for a bit.

PCD: You’re like an imaginary person now.
Me: I find that both funny and sad. Why is that?
Her: Because we aren’t real life friends
Me: Because we never see each other? (thinking) I try to see things from Heartgirl’s point of view, if there was a guy she liked a lot and saw him regularly, I’d be a little peeved. (pause) She knows I’d never cheat on her. But I also told her that you were kind and good and that kind and good people we should keep around. I do consider us real friends.
Her: I know. Just have a fun vacation, ok?


Her: I kind of feel that I…I just got swept up in my own life. How weird is that? To get swept away by your own life?

At the party, met a friend that was easing into single life as I was easing out. One minute, I’m 27 and walking outta the Harbor Hotel in Beijing to a waiting car wearing Valentino and a Speedmaster. The next minute, I’m 33 and out both a girlfriend and all of my scratch. Then the next hot minute, I’m here. Telling my secrets to reeds and strangers. And thinking of a girlie I didn’t know existed before 4/7/2008.

The problem with being half-asleep all of time is that reality and dreams blur. There’ve been plenty of times I thought something was something, but just turned out to be a lotta nuthin. Kinda wonder if this’ll all just turn out to be nuthin at all. Man…that would suck.

Me: Yeah, I know what you mean.


Supposed to be the coldest weather here in NYC in 15 years. But I’m leaving this week for sunnier climates and’ll, thankfully, miss it.

I’ll write when I can.

YASYCTAI: Get ridda mosta your jerks. Screw em. (time/3 pts)

dating personal

Awful Things

Not your ex

Her: You know what? I’m not your ex. I’m me. (long pause) You’ve never done awful things in your life, Logan?


Get a surprising message on Friday from someone I was dating. We opted to be friends and she calls to tell me something I really don’t wanna know. So, I’m disappointed in her. Then again, she called cause she needed a friend and I wasn’t the friend I should have been.

So, I’m disappointed in me.

Go out for the usual fun and games for Friday. Some girl keeps grabbing my butt so I bounce early. Saturday, wrestled. That’s a whole entry on it’s own. Then I go to my cousin’s wedding. Could do without everyone asking me when I’m getting married.

Orbit around Heartgirl all weekend; more misunderstandings between us. We’re supposed to meet up but something comes up so she bails. Thing is, I’m slightly glad we didn’t meet up cause who she is in my head might not be who she is at all.

Then again, I’m not the man they think I am at home.

Her: Hey…what are you doing up?
Me: I’m always up. I’m at 6th & A, heading home. Look…I’m calling to say that I’m sorry.
Her: Thanks. (pause) I’m really glad you called. I’m really glad.

That’s WM the night before. Heartgirl wanted to watch the Eurocup so I arranged it for a friend of mine to show it at her bar. Since Heartgirl didn’t come, WM came and we caught the game. And talked about our many regrets.

Paul, WM and I’re great at parties. Cause the people that’re really great at parties are the ones that just wanna forget the awful things.

Location: my bed
Mood: tired
Music: I think it’s gonna be a long, long time

dating personal

Too old


Don’t think I can write anything better than I wrote last year for him.

Her: Logan! You’re too old to date so much.
Me: (sighing) Tell me about it.

It rained all weekend. Go out late Friday. Usual twirl.

Went to a BBQ Saturday with a friend from church and she and I spend the day lounging on Roosevelt Island. Lived here my whole life and have never been – the tram was out so I’ve still never been on that. See a purple dog and get drenched on the way back. Later that night, see HEI and her friends for drinks.

I decide to get off that online dating website cause: (a) don’t have the time for it, (b) feel bad not responding to people, and (c) am tired of the disappointing and the being disappointed. So I go and delete all the emails I’ve gotten in the past month. But one from a pretty cake decorator stands out so I write:

My number’s 917.555.4810. Why don’t you text me as if we met last night so that we can say, quite honestly, that we met last night, I emailed you and then we texted back and forth for a bit. Because that’s what young singltons do in the big city, I think.

She does and we do all weekend. End up grabbing coffee on Sunday.

Here’s the thing: vegetarian. Not even pescatarian – full-on vegetarian. I oftentimes wonder if I’m part of some cosmic joke. But she has an easy laugh and a Georgia accent so we’ll see.

Not looking forward to work – I haven’t told most of you this but all my employees quit on me three weeks ago. Now one of them wants to come back.

After church on Sunday, Christianne¬†and I walk home. We’re both waiting for our blue sky to come back and stay.

Location: the rent’s, getting ready for work
Mood: determined
Music: like seein’ you in my neighborhood I like the way you dress