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LoganLo On (or close to) Schedule |
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Thursday, April 29, 2010 | |
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Stay Gold / The family you choose Location: two hours ago, Rockwood Music Hall Mood: entertained Music: winning you with words because I have no other way  We meet again at midnight. Next week, back to the usual posting schedule. Cool thing about my city's that you're only $2.25 away from adventure. The lady was working so I called up a buddy. Me: Jaymay's playing downtown 8PM. You in? Him: I dunno... Me: You're single. Never turn down an invitation. Him: I'll meet you there.  Great concert, seats and venue. She was super nice. Me: So, I'm gonna do the stupid tourist thing and ask for your autograph. Her: Do you have something to write on? (takes paper and writes) Me: Are you writing something mean? (turning to girl next to her) Is she writing something mean, like in high school? Her: (laughing and shaking my hand) Thanks for coming, Logan.  Have more stories for you; saw a great flick, baked a ham, and cut another friend loose. Suppose I'll tell mosta them to y'next week. The cutting of the friend, I'll tell you now. In a nutshell, your friends're the family y'choose. When you're a kid, y'choose them cause your mom tells you to or they got the locker nexta yours. Whatever. But as an adult, there's really only one reason to call someone your friend - Someone's your friend if you can answer this in the affirmative: Will this person, to his/her own detriment, look out for me? If you can, do the same for them. If you can't, cut em loose. Been alive now for 13,500 days. Only got 12,780 days left here. No time to waste it on anyone whom I can't answer that question in the affirmative. You don't got that kinda time either, kid. ---------- Admin note - for those of you reading me at: www.loganlo.com and RSS, I might be offline for a few days. @#$@#$@#$! Blogger. I'll figure it out. Probably. YASYCTAI: Go on a (short) adventure. It's $2.25 here; what's it where you are? (180 mins/2 pts) www.loganlo.com  Subscribe!Labels: choices, concert, dialogue, discussion, jaymay Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 3 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 12:01 AM :: |
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Tuesday, March 23, 2010 | |
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My will's done Location: yest, 8PM getting drenched on 7th Ave Mood: disappointed Music: had a dream That I could fly  Rarely do a political post, but here we are. In Underworld, the final words of onea the main character's, "My will is done, regardless." When Bush was president, he made some jaw-droppingly poor choices, yes. But he also quietly tripled AIDS help to Africa. $9 billion to a continent where the average adult survives on $1,968 annually. He deserves recognitiona that. But the people that hate him don't wanna hear it. Now it's flipped with Obama. Consider the health care bill; the actual form of the bill's closest to the one that Nixon - the prototypical Republican - tried and failed to pass in 1974. It's a universal health care paid by a sliding scale to help small business-owners and entrepreneurs, the backbone of the Republican party. Here's Nixons plan in his own words. The current plan's shockingly similar. And yet, cause it was introduced by the Democratic party, it's denounced by the same party that introduced it in 1974. Prejudice in its simplest form, has nuthin to do with race, creed, or religion. It has to do with making an uninformed decision. Not married to any one ideology, my decisions're made on the best available information at the time. It's a reasoned way to live. Stay away from those that're convinced they're right. Cause reason has no place in their world. And unreasonable people're dangerous. Insert my fave Nietzxche quote here. As for health care, don't care that it's a Republican bill passed by the Democratic party or vice versa. My will's done, regardless. YASYCTAI: Reason with your unreasonable friends. Then stop if they can't admit they might be wrong. (years/2 pts) www.loganlo.com Labels: choices, discussion, quote Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 2 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 8:39 AM :: |
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Thursday, February 25, 2010 | |
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The Acquisition of Knowledge Location: in the heart of snow Mood: still @#$@#$ sick Music: I be the same when it all goes up I be the same when it all goes down Was wondering why this song - which rocks - didn't get much airplay. Then I saw the video. Least it's a good song. ---------- Always kinda surprised by the people that marry their high school sweethearts. If I married my high school/college girlfriend, woulda had one totally miserable person here in NYC. I wouldn'tve been too happy either. People go through massive changes from 15-21, again at 25-30, and once again at 30. The issue arises when one person changes one way and the other, another. Elizabeth Gilbert said it best, Marriage is not a game for the young. Janeane Garofalo said someth'n like, imagine being married to the person who's sole qualification was that they had the locker next to yours. Been having a series of parallel conversations with three different people. Alla them're very prouda the fact that they're the same person as they were in the past. But suppose y'believe the earth is flat. And despite all evidence to the contrary, your answer's that you've always believed the world's flat and that's just how it's gonna be. (Insert your favourite George W. Bush joke here) Said once that being grateful is the key to not being broken. Lemme add the coda that it's also a willingness to say, OK, tell me why you think I'm wrong. Put another way, why should the beliefs of a 16-year-old - when my buddy decided on something - rule the mind of a 35 year-old, his age now? Are you better or worse if y'can say, I value the acquisition of knowledge above all else? On yet another related point, become a man without a political party. The choice seems to be between a group enamored of their own ignorance and another inhibited by their own incompetence. Gonna write in my mom as a candidate next year; if nuthin else, she'll stay until the job gets done and save taxpayer money by bringing her own coffee. YASYCTAI: Consider the data. (10 mins/1 pt) Labels: choices, discussion, quote Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 3 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 8:35 AM :: |
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Thursday, December 10, 2009 | |
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Shutting down Location: surrounded by computers and papers. Help me. Mood: caffeinated! Music: you wonder why they haven't called when they said they'd call  Me: I'm shutting down for the night. Her: You just said that you're shutting down for the night. Him: I didn't. (pause) Did I? (sighing) I gotta stop hanging out with computers. Lately, my financial life's been eat-what-you-kill. The problem's that, after a long period of nuthin, y'grab everything that you can that might lead to scratch, even if most don't ultimately pan out. 'cept divorce. Won't touch divorces. Cause, even though it's not usually the case, one party's got it in their head that, Who the #$@#$ are y'to tell me I'm not good enough? No, won't do divorces. Y'wanna turn 10 craptastic apartments that share three bathrooms into four? Get the dude you love into the country legally? Register a trademark and sue someone? Raise $3 million in six weeks? Dual boot Windows on your mac so y'can save your Windows star ratings into iTunes and vice versa? Yeah, I can do that for you. Can work cheap, fast, or through - but y'can only pick two outta three. YASYCTAI: Get back to finishing up that thesis/big project. (weeks/2 pts) Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 3 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 8:01 AM :: |
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Tuesday, December 01, 2009 | |
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Don't really know Location: a grey, half-sofa Mood: cheerful Music: come with me we'll travel to infinity  Her: What was that sound!? Me: Was working on something and the live power cable hit the fan. Her: Logan! You're going to kill yourself some day. (laughing) And your fly's open. Me: (slowly) Yes. If something did happen to me, someone'd find that I'm 20% peanut butter (by weight, not volume). The remainder being rum. Did y'have a nice Turkey Day? This year was different. Paul and WM hung up their club shoes to play board games by mine. Very Waltons. The Professor wasn't in town but I did see Johnny. With the exception of the Devil, he's the onea the most dangerous men I know. That says a lot. And he brought his daughter over. Her: I like you. You're funny. Me: I'll take that as a compliment. Listen, keep your dad from punching me. He scares me. Her: He scares me too! This 25 year-old kid named Luis Armando Pena Soltren hijacked this plane from NY to Puerto Rico on 19681124 and went to Cuba where he spent the next 40 years in working as a day labourer. At some point, he musta thought, What the #$@# 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, alla 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. YASYCTAI: Have you considered fencing? (90 mins/2 pts) Labels: choices, dialogue, food, friends, thanksgiving Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 0 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 7:58 AM :: |
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Thursday, May 07, 2009 | |
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Lies and Ties Location: 14:00 yest, being told to rinse and spit in Queens (again) Mood: still sick Music: The sun in your eyes made some of the lies worth believing  My brother's in town and he's helping fix somea the computers here. Him: Apparently somebody's been plagiarizing mom's articles and reprinting them online. Me: How can you tell? Him: (laughing) She told me...and she's a got a folder that's named, Someone copy my article. ---------- Heartgirl told me recently that she doesn't know what to tell people when they ask what I do for a living. S'funny, alla the women I dated've said the same thing. Mosta my friends don't know. It's...complicated, how I make my money. I've a particularly odd skillset but the funny thing's that I'm very good at a several, seemingly unrelated things. But if I had to sum it up to in one unifying idea, it's that I collect and process data. Writing, in fact, is an example of my processing data; I take various disparate concepts, weave them to one (hopefully) coherent argument and distill that to a printed page. On that note, I've gotta pick one of these skillsets sooner than later. Him: Y'said you're in for the next gig. Me: I'm thinking of being an officer of the court again. Him: (laughing) They're no different than us cept they wear ties.  YASYCTAI: Organize your computer files. (10 hrs/2 pts) Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 2 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 12:01 AM :: |
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Thursday, April 30, 2009 | |
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Tres Vidas Location: 14:00 yest, being told to rinse and spit in Queens Mood: satisfied Music: hard to believe we need a place called hell  Dated several people who's favourite book's 100 Years of Solitude. Tried four times to read it but couldn't. Not my cuppa tea. But the author once said something that I think of often: Uno tiene tres vidas: la vida pública, la vida privada y la vida secreta. That's the first thing I thought of when I heard about three lives this past April: Philip Markoff, Susan Boyle, and Russell Dunham. Philip's this fairly attractive guy with an immense hidden evil. Susan's this fairly unattractive woman with an immense hidden talent. Russell was a fairly average looking guy with an immense hidden strength. I lived with a scumbag that murdered his girlfriend. People asked me afterward if we knew that he was capable of such a thing. Always thought that was a stupid question - as if he liked to manically stab at his food when ate. No, people're really good at hiding their pretty and their dirty. Alla those little bits of this 'n that, aggregated over time like piles of crumbs, cemented together by secrets. It's only when situations shift that our real selves cut through the chatter - whether that be by choice like Susan and Philip, or by chance like Russell. Our real selves're always there, just waiting. After the London bombings, some dude quipped something like, "Always wondered how I'd act in a crisis. Turns out I'm rubbish in a crisis." It's totally true. Everyone has three lives: a public life, a private life, and a secret life. Me? I'd like to think that my angels'd beat my demons. Ah, but who doesn't? Nobody wakes up hoping they're a friend of the Devil. An ex once said to me, If only your insides matched your outsides. Do her one better: If only our outsides matched our insides. Him: So, whatcha gonna do? Me: (thinking) Dunno yet...  YASYCTAI: Read about Russell. (20 mins/1 pt) Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 0 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 12:13 AM :: |
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Tuesday, February 03, 2009 | |
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My Paradigm Location: in front of this damn computer all day Mood: pensive Music: what's right wakes me through the night  Me: Maybe I should get a real job. Grow up. Him: A 9-to-5? Man, that kinda stuff kills people like us. We're not cut out for that. Made a decision about 15 years ago; wanted to live like I was in college for as long as possible, meaning: wake up when I want, eat when I want, travel when I want, work when I had to. So what, in essence, does a college student do? Day 1: Student arrives and meets Teacher. Days 2-119: Student accumulates and (hopefully) processes data. Student can:
Day 120: Student must distill all that data onto a piece of paper and use data to answer a question or set of questions. That paper can be:
Repeat as necessary. That's what I do. Cept insteada a student, it's me; insteada a teacher, it's a client, insteada a grade, it's a check. A pretty pink, blue, green, or grey check. I'm given or acquire data; I process said data; I distill said data to a piece of paper by answering a question or set of questions; I hand that paper to the client; the client hands me a check. A pretty pink, blue, green, or grey check. Repeat as necessary. Made enough scratch to buy my pad, my whip and my toys. But that was then. I'm 36 in two months. It's 2009 already. Maybe I should grow up already. Her: Hi. How are you? Me: I'm good. Just trying to find a job. I figure it's about time I had a real job. Her: Having a job will be fun. You will make friends (pause) and you can bring your lunch. YASYCTAI: Read Good to Great; it's about you. Figure out your paradigm. (3 days/2 pts) Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 2 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 12:10 AM :: |
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Wednesday, November 05, 2008 | |
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44 Location: 9:00 yest, pulling a lever on the UWS Mood: hopeful Music: may your dreams Be realized  Guess you've seen Pretty in Pink. But I much preferred the remake, which came out the very next year called Some Kind of Wonderful. Same director, same writer, different cast but same roles. The writer and director couldn't get the ending they wanted for Pretty in Pink. Ergo, Some Kind of Wonderful. So their got their ending. In other news, voted today. Got a free cuppa joe and now my hands're shaking like an 80s crack addict. The voting machines were the same grey machines they had in NYC since I was kid - also in the 80s. More things change, the more they stay the same. I worry we got a different cast, but the same roles. But there is one aspect of this story, however, I particularly like. MLK was murdered seven years before I was born. 44 years ago. Now a black dude is the 44th president - and almost no one I know thinks of him as a black dude. He's just a brilliant, ambitious man. That's something different and good. Hopefully, we'll have the ending we want. God bless and protect the man and the office. Le Roi est mort, vive le Roi... YASYCTAI: Be hopeful (1 min/1 pt) Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 3 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 12:08 AM :: |
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Monday, September 29, 2008 | |
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Accepting it Location: 20:30 yest, walking home alone Mood: thoughtful Music: People stop and stare. They don't bother me  Grey: I'm back in town next month. Do you miss me yet? Me: Of course. But about that... ---- Me: I wanted to tell you that I had that talk with the other girl and we decided to give it a try. Blue: OK, thanks for letting me know. (pause) I'm surprisingly OK. Me: I knew you would be. ---- Me: So I'm not going to be seeing anyone else, right? Green: (irritated) Why do you always put it like that: "I'm not going to be seeing anyone else." You're fine if I see other people? Me: (laughing) OK, you're right. We're not going to be seeing anyone else, right? We're actually dating each other and no one else. Her: (pause) Yes. We're not going to be seeing anyone else. Me: OK, Heartgirl. I can do that. Her: You've finally accepted that I'm your SING, huh? Me: (nodding) Yes. ---- Me: I can't do you that favour, brother. Him: Fine, be an idiot. By the way, stop calling me the Devil. Me: Ah, you found the blog. Sorry about that. But you know why we call you that. YASYCTAI: Read about Stanislav Petrov and thank him for doing the difficult but right thing. It's hard doing the difficult but right thing. (3 mins/1 pt) Labels: choices, dialogue, single life Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 0 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 12:02 AM :: |
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Wednesday, September 24, 2008 | |
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Jbell and something completely different Location: 2:10, spit please Mood: puzzled Music: I am likely to miss the main event If I stop  Woke up at an ungodly hour to drive all over the city. Still didn't finish what I had to finish. Also went to the dentist today for the first time in four years. Two dentists in 11 years - no cavities. Her: I am curious as to why two of your teeth on your left side are cracked. Me: Mstpoplererihndedsowen... Her: I'm sorry, what? Me: (taking tube outta mouth) Most people are right handed. So when I get punched in the face, I get banged up on my left side. Her: Does that happen often? Me: More than y'might imagine. Got into a very perplexing conversation with Heartgirl today so I'm distracted yet again. It's onea those things that I need to figure out myself before I write about it. Breaking with tradition for the second time, HEI has a blog. So readers, please meet: JBell. She came by for dinner the other night to borrow Syd. We chatted over some rum. It's nice when people stick around your Venn Diagrams no matter how screwy y'are. You can read her take on me if you can figure out which one's me. On that note, someone's wondered if I'm nicer in this blog than I am in real life, so in addition to Jbell, the girlie from Sunday said she'd write her view of what happened in my last entry - she said she wrote it in my style (yes, she knows about this blog, no I didn't meet her from it). I never considered that I have a style, but I digress: Me (the girlie): Are you alright? Him (Logan): I'm always alright. He did his fake smile with all the teeth, but the saddest eyes I've ever seen. He's not always alright. And then the thing happened with George. I didn't scream because screams are not words. Him: (on phone) Pick him up! Put him back in! Me: You pick him up! I don't want to touch him! Pick him up! Him: (scooping up George in a paper towel) He's dead! Do you think he's dead?! I think he's dead! Me: Put him back in! Put him back in anyway! Then George swam, in a perfect zigzag, to the bottom of the tank. He must have been caught in a current because that was it -- he was just there, on his side on the rocks. But we didn't take him out. The empty tank would be too sad. Logan says there's one more George in there, he just hasn't seen him for a while. I'm not so sure. So we left this George in, just in case. Logan told me some sad stories, but they're his to tell. I have my own. The sleeping pills he takes scare me. But so do his sad eyes. He looks like a little boy. His shirt's too big, and his hair's sticking up all over. He's not the womanizer he pretends to be. He's a lightweight when it comes to his rum. He deserves to be happy. And suicidal George's swimming around like a miracle fish. He's a little banged up on one side, but I think he's ok for now. YASYCTAI (hers): Convince Logan that covering the fish tank is worth losing the automatic feeder. YASYCTAI: Get your teeth cleaned. I wanna make out with someone if only cause my teeth feel amazing. (60 mins/2 pts) Labels: choices, dialogue, discussion, george Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 0 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 12:02 AM :: |
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Monday, May 19, 2008 | |
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Ships in the night Location: 7AM yest, stumbling home Mood: hoping Music: Hey Snowflake! What 'cha doin on Arlington Place?  Me: Ships in the night? Her: I'm sorry what? Me: (laughing) My mistake...thought you were someone else.Friday, go to a party thrown by Jenny and friends - they hired a bartender and had an open bar. Sweeeeeet. Saturday, spend the day roaming the hood with with HEI. We end up having a wind-tunnel-like lunch at the Boat Basin. She's all sorts of lovely. Saturday night, go to a friend's b-day party. Meet someone I swear is the Ship In the Night Girlie. Her: It sounds like it could be me, but I don't remember. Me: (disappointed) Then it wasn't you. Her: How do you know it wasn't me?Me: Cause you'd remember a fella like me. Her: That's awfully egotistical of you.Me: (sighing) Don't mean it to be. But it's true. She and I hang out with Paul and WM til six in the morning. We finish up the night at a French bistro downtown as the run rises. Lose my phone - ugh. That's a whole entry in itself. Don't get into bed until 7AM. Wake up a little while later and run in the rain to meet up for a memorial lunch for Mike. His sister gives me an envelope fulla singles; said she wanted me to hand them out to anyone that asked for help cause Mike woulda liked that. Said I would. Hop off to church where I meet a girl from Holland and end up walking this girl Beth home - she's involved but fun company. Give her the nickel tour before we run into Jenny and some other people 'round the way. Finally get a few moments to think. Wonder if I'll ever see Ship in the Night Girl again. Stupid isn't it? You see a girl for a moment and she's in your head weeks later? Her: (to WM) Your friend's so peculiar. (to me) You're so peculiar. Maybe I am the Ship in the Night Girl. Me: You're not, but thanks. (taking her hand) We'll be friends, yeah? Her: Yes.There're numbers I'll never get again in that phone I lost. Seems like more ships pass me in the night than I thought. ---------- Ran into my friend Christianne tonight too. Here's a story about her or you can just listen to her sing to you now...  Labels: choices, church, mike, New York City, NYC, random meetings, single life Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 2 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 12:15 AM :: |
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Monday, April 07, 2008 | |
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He keeps calling Location: in my shower, thinking Mood: wicked Music: And when you think it's all over, It's not over, it's not over  Her: You're leaving? Again? What're you, a viejo? Me: (kissing her cheek) Very much, pretty lady. Very much. Was leaving cause I was thinking of ringing SX when I ran into a pair of green eyes. Her: Abby. Me: Logan. (shaking her hand) Well look at us - we're like ships in the night; you're stepping in, I'm stepping out. We'd have lovely children, you and I, what with my looks and your brains. They'd be a shoe-in for the ivy league. Her: What? (laughing) Then stay.Me: Can't. Got an appointment to keep. But New York's a small town - ships in the night, yeah? Her: Yeah.Walking to the subway, flicked on my mobile and dialed a number. I'm sleeping, she said, but we talked until dawn anyway. Saturday involved more rum, the Token girl (who's moving 'round the way), the bouncers at Solas (who turned me upside down), Paul and a German girl in Zum Schneider (who was entertaining), and a Russian blond (who was awfully handy) on 9th Street. Sunday night, went to church and sat next to a friend who told me she couldn't make it to my birthday. Then I walked home with Jenny again. It's Monday. Got 11 days left; the devil's been calling. Afraid I'll have to answer at some point. The devil and God comes when you're on your knees. Don't wanna be on my knees again. Thankfully, that's where the rum comes in.  Labels: choices, church, New York City, NYC, random meetings, single life Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 0 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 12:24 AM :: |
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Monday, February 04, 2008 | |
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None of your business Location: 5:30 yest, going to bed Mood: sick again Music: Love me or hate me, it's still an obsession.  With nods to Jaerik and my friend who cares way too much. I figure at least 20 people hate me in this world. One of them is this old hippie that yelled at me in Cooper Union while stumbling home for having my feet up on a public seat. My feet, I said, with a wink and a smile, are probably cleaner than most people's butts. Ass___, she said. To which I shrugged and said, That's merely your opinion. And why should your opinion matter to me? You didn't even say hello. Considering that there are 6,641,114,623 people in the world, the fact that 20 hate me, that's pretty good. In fact, I don't have a calculator that can compute such a tiny figure. Try it. Whatever someone thinks of me is just their opinion. Someone's else's opinion should not control your life - it's a sucker's bet. Frankly, it's none of my business what people think of me. It's none of your business either. On a grand scale, wars are fought over opinions. People fly planes into buildings because they have an opinion. Men become stalkers because they have an opinion. Little girls commit suicide because of people's opinions. On a more personal scale, you'll drive yourself starkers caring what people think of you. I wasted my youth and my 20s tilting at those windmills. In this world, you can only ever change things about yourself. The rest is just heartache or paper cuts. In other news, I'm sick again. I'm always getting sick. Dammit. Labels: choices, discussion, sick Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 2 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 12:02 AM :: |
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| Don't you have better things to do than read ridiculous small print from some writer? Oh yeah, © 2006 Logan Lo, LLC. All rights reserved. |
