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LoganLo On (or close to) Schedule |
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Wednesday, November 19, 2008 | |
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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) Labels: blue sky, dialogue, family, goodbye, story, traveling  Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 2 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 12:03 AM :: |
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Friday, September 26, 2008 | |
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Grow up already Location: 6:00, awake at my desk, looking at phone Mood: thoughtful Music: it’s turning me to the count of girl who’d rather be alone.  The Devil always seems to come at just the right time with a wink and smile, doesn't he? Him: (sitting) Logan, I need a favour. (hands me an envelope) Me: I hate it when people open with that. Especially you. (opens envelope) Oh this can't be good... ----------Finally saw WALL-E last night. So cute. Her: I wish we could just keep doing what we do. Me: (thinking) You know how most guys wanna keep being a kid? I'm tired of being a kid, I wanna grow up already. I think maybe it's time I grew up already. Her: I like you though... Me: (shaking head) That's only cause I only show you the sides I want you to see. My life is needlessly complicated. I'm hoping to simplify things shortly.The forecast says rain all weekend. YASYCTAI: Simplify your life. Buy a scanner and a shredder and get to work. (120 mins/2 pts) Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 2 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 7:48 AM :: |
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Friday, September 05, 2008 | |
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Aether Apologies Location: the basement of my brain again Mood: pensive Music: sometimes a man must awake to find that really, he has no-one  Her: Why do you always get so mad when I apologize? Me: Cause you should only ever apologize for what you do, not who you are. You should never apologize for being what you are. People used to believe in this thing called aether, which was an unseen gas that was supposed to envelop everything in the universe. No such thing but the literary concept of it still exists. Heartgirl went on a date not that long ago and said the guy immediately apologized for being Indian. That irritated me so much. I'm acutely aware of people apologizing for who they are. And when you put that out into the world, into the aether, it's hard to kill it. The moment you let out a breath of, I'm not good enough because of what I am, or I'm so XXXX, it's so very dangerous. Cause you can never be tall enough, thin enough, smart enough. And you are what you believe you are. It's subtle isn't it? The idea that you're not worthy of your three feet of space in this world. Here's the thing, you gotta be. If you're not, the world'll roll right over you. Then again... Her: I thought you said you weren't broken. Me: Maybe I'm just bruised. Her: That makes me sad. Me: Don't be. It's why I have the rum. PCD's...gone from this blog, per her request. But she said we'd stay in each other's Venn Diagrams. I hope that's true. Cause I could never tell if her eyes were grey or blue and would like to know. I hear Caligirl's laughter my head - wondering for a second if she's right and I'm all just hot breath and lies. I gotta believe I'm not. Gotta. Otherwise, I know the world'll roll right over me. So I gotta believe I'm not. I just gotta. Labels: dialogue, discussion, goodbye, venn diagrams Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 3 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 12:02 AM :: |
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Wednesday, August 13, 2008 | |
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Safe Location: home Mood: indescribable Music: All your grief At last, at last behind you  Dear Grandma; Went home last night because mom wanted to talk. She told me stories I already know but wanted to hear again, mainly because they're so hard to believe. Like how your mom sold you for seven dollars when you were three because she had no money. And that when you heard your mom died three years later, you ran away to change her clothes because you didn't want her to be dressed in rags. I think when I was six, all I wanted in life was more food. I'm 35 now and I still think of food way too much. Well, you remember how fat I was... Mom cried again when she got to the part where you came back and they beat you. She said you didn't deserve such a hard life. No one does. But you were tough. Mom's tough like you. She thinks I get my temper from you, which, by the way, I'm working on. I told her it was probably more from my lack of sleep. Speaking of sleep, I thought of a line that goes: We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep. But I digress... I do think that I got my eyes from you. Oh, and Aki and I have this weird talent I think we get from you too; mom says that if you ever saw anyone knit something, you could recreate it. well, Aki can play any song he hears on the piano and I can do something similar with a sword - which is admittedly pretty useless but is good cocktail conversation. Been meaning to say I'm sorry - again. That I broke my promise to you. It keeps me up at night, the regret. It eats me. As does the fact I couldn't go to say goodbye. Yours was the only promise I've broken in years, I think. I had a really good reason - I'll tell you about it some time. Mom says that your funeral was packed - even your real father's entire family came. Because you loved them even though there was no reason for you to. I meet a lot of wealthy people here in the big city but they're all labels and show. I know it's wrong, but I feel it's somehow cosmic justice that you ended up more successful than all of them. You know, mom made the right choice coming here, she really did. The best thing about this corner of the world is that no one ever asks what we come from, only where we're going. But I don't forget what I came from. Who I came from. In fact, I don't forget anything. I guess the main thing is that I wanted you to know that your oldest daughter's safe. You can rest because mom's safe. We're all safe. Really. You would have been 87 today. I pray that you get the grace and mercy in the next life that you didn't get in this one. Happy birthday. L Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 2 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 12:01 AM :: |
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Friday, August 08, 2008 | |
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The dark clouds are looming Location: 2:00, tossing and turning in bed Mood: le tired Music: When will I know that I really can't go Expletive laden but oh so funny - sorry if it screws with your page. Thanks Kate, I needed the laugh. 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...  Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 2 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 8:48 AM :: |
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Sunday, August 03, 2008 | |
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Waiting for the Right Scene / Hardest way to Travel Location: in front of a glass of rum Mood: sigh Music: Got no place to go but there's a girl waiting for me  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.  Labels: blue sky, dialogue, discussion, family, flying, goodbye, single life, traveling Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 2 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 12:02 AM :: |
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Thursday, July 31, 2008 | |
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Useless / Outta time Location: my office, beat tired Mood: beat tired Music: you wake up in it One fine day  Told you before that A man’s dying is more the survivors’ affair than his own. I think I'm fairly quick-witted. Rain's faster on the draw but I hold my own. S'what happens when you read as much as a nerd like me. But I dunno what to say to my own mother. Isn't that a kick in the head? Sucks when you realize a particular talent you have's only good for entertainment purposes. The irony of this whole thing is that my mom just came back from Taiwan two days before my grandma died. Now she's gotta go back. Her: I didn't know she was gonna go. (pause) I woulda stayed if I knew. Me: One of us (kids) should go back with you. Her: No, it's useless. She's gone. You called her all the time. That meant a lot to her. (pause) You're a good kid.She doesn't know that I stopped calling her after the theft cause I didn't want her to worry. Stupid. I thought we had time. Goddamit, I thought I had time. No one told me we were outta time. Gonna add that to my list of ten thousand regrets. Gonna need more damn paper. Labels: dialogue, discussion, family, goodbye Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 1 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 2:00 PM :: |
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Tuesday, July 29, 2008 | |
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All good things come to an end Location: my office Mood: heartbroken Music: the sun was wondering if it should stay away for a day til the feeling went away  Him: What's the point of dating her if it's not going anywhere? Me: All relationships end. Some just end sooner than others. Anthropologist Ernest Becker once said that Everything that man does in his symbolic world is an attempt to deny and overcome his grotesque fate. All relationships end. And all relationships that matter end in tears. It's just the way it goes. There's nothing you adore now, that you can hold now, that you won't lose at some point down the line. Either because it goes - or you go. It's all ashes and dust and there's not a goddamn thing you can do about it. And it doesn't matter how you go, yeah? Someone'll wish you didn't. Writers try and cheat the end we know is coming. It's our sad way of staying longer than we should. Because I've tricked you, you see. I've made you think of me. My grandmother passed away. I'm heartbroken.  Please don't say, I'm sorry. Tell me something funny or interesting. Cause I gotta go home and dunno what to say to my mom. I'm a crap writer. I've run outta words. Labels: church, dialogue, discussion, faith, family, goodbye Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 2 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 10:10 AM :: |
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Monday, April 21, 2008 | |
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Who pays the price? Location: 22:23, 57th and 8th Avenue Mood: alone Music: There's a somebody I'm longing to see  Me: If I didn't know better, I'd think we were happy couple. Her: (long pause) We were. Thanks for all the well-wishes; got me through a rough day. Worked until 1AM on my birthday. S'ok cause I did a lot of living this past weekend. SX came up from Philly to see me and I showed her my city. Saturday night we hit up a party that my friends Paolo and Cindy threw for me. Do you remember that last scene from It's a Wonderful Life where Geroge can't believe all the people that came out for him? Sorta how I felt. On Sunday, SX and I grab brunch around the way. Then she gets ready to go. It's terribly sad. Terribly. My self-sabotaging's pretty much train on time. Her: It's funny, I feel like we're breaking up and we were never together. Who knew I'd find a 35 year-old womanizer appealing? (pause) I like you, Logan. Me: I like you too. Her: (pause) Will you write about me?Me: I like to keep some of my private life private. (pause) Do you want me to? Her: (long pause) Yes. I want you to write about this weekend.Ok then. This weekend I had a beautiful girl come visit me for my birthday and we had an absolutely amazing time. But I discovered that I'm a lousy womanizer. Cause Paul and I stick to two rules:
I sighed this past weekend and SX asked me what I was thinking. I just smiled and shrugged. But what I was thinking was that, My head knows I'm doing the right thing but it's never my head that pays the price. She picked up her bag, shut the door, and walked away. And here I am again. Labels: dating, goodbye, single life, venn diagrams Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 3 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 12:25 AM :: |
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Wednesday, March 19, 2008 | |
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Remembering Snow Angels and Lynda Location: 10:00 PM, yest, fencing in Manhattan Mood: contemplative Music: and I say goodbye na zai jian  Paul used to have a B-Team of friends that were fun but he learned that you should only have an A-Team because you only got so much time and energy. Remember when I said that your friends are mirrors to yourself? If you've changed and your friends haven't, maybe it's time to start cutting. Or call the ones that matter. I shoulda called Stewart. Had his digits - just never got around to it. He was a good guy. Probably won't remember me now. But I remember him. ---------- Thomas Mann once said that A man’s dying is more the survivors’ affair than his own. Lynda was murdered ten years ago by a guy in my college circle of friends. My friends who knew her well never talk about it but it's always there. She and I only met a few times so it was more consoling my friends than anything else. But I did want to write something - if only to confirm that what the reporter wrote was true. She was beautiful. Yeah, call your friends that matter. Labels: goodbye, Lynda Hong, nostalgia, Snow Angels, Stewart O'Nan Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 1 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 12:09 AM :: |
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Thursday, February 28, 2008 | |
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Brick Wall Location: 18:30 yest, hopping onto the seven train Mood: beat tired Music: the only one here now is me; I'm fighting things I cannot see  Me: You can do this. You've done it before, you survived. You can do it again. You just gotta be a brick wall. Her: What does that mean? Me: Two things. First, a brick wall doesn't cry, it doesn't beg, it doesn't plead, it doesn't do anything. It just is. A brick wall does what it's supposed to do - without compunction, without complaint, without contempt. A brick wall's built for pressure; you're built for pressure. Her: And second? Me: Second is it doesn't give anything away - you can read a face, you can't read a brick wall. Keep it together. People're relying on you. You're relying on you. Don't ever let him break you down. A brick wall doesn't break; everything else breaks against it. Her: (quizzically) I'ma brick wall? Me: Yeah, you're a goddamned brick wall. Her: (deep breath) I'm a brick wall. Me: You're stone. Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 0 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 12:01 AM :: |
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Monday, February 25, 2008 | |
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Mike Location: writing this with a glass of rum for Mike Mood: grateful Music: Well, if it rains, I don't care Don't make no difference to me  An older guy, he looked like he was 45. He had a six-pack! Paul and I joked all the time that he looked better than botha us. He was a student in my fencing class; 65 years old and still training hard. I remember that when everything went down with me, so many people said, Well, the only way is up. Which is yet another one of those sayings that only has the air of truth but no real truth to it - dude, there's always more room for down. Always. Mike didn't say that; he said: I'm an old man, I've seen a lotta things. You never know what Life will give you, but good or bad, you take it anyway. We live in a Cliff's Notes society where we know the punchlines, but never the whole saying:
No man is an island, Entire of itself. Each is a piece of the continent, A part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less. As well as if a promontory were. As well as if a manner of thine own Or of thine friend's were. Each man's death diminishes me, For I am involved in mankind. Therefore, send not to know For whom the bell tolls, It tolls for thee. Mike, you bastard, you made a room fulla grown men with pointy sticks and aggression issues cry. We're diminished. I hope when I go, I'm half the man you were. Labels: goodbye, john donne, mike Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 6 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 12:05 AM :: |
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Monday, January 07, 2008 | |
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Bello Location: 10:45 yest, 9th Street & Ave A Mood: thoughtful Music: We tried to find some words  Until early last Thursday morning. My name's Logan, I said. Che cosa? she asked. She spoke almost no English. Of course. So, after a bit, I decided to have a real-life IM with her. I typed out sentences on my phone and she read them and answered slowly. Her name was Roberta. She was going to see Niagara Falls (Cascata) with her family who were sitting somewhere else. We passed an hour chatting back and forth. When we arrived I said goodbye and started my work in Buffalo. Late that night, I caught the last flight to New York. And there she was. I never thought I'd see her again. She waved to me and as she walked over, I laughed and took out my phone. She too was only there for a day. The cascata was bello, she said, but way too freddo. Her: How old you? Me: Guess. Her: 24? Me: (shaking head) No, 34. Her: Wow. Me: How old are you? Her: Guess. Me: 24? Her: (shaking head) No, diciotto (18). I laughed and said, Of course you are. She didn't understand and just nodded. Then I stopped again said, "I hope you stay good and that Life is kind to you." Maybe I said that because I knew she wouldn't understand. She looked at me with a puzzled smile so I smiled back and said slowly, Goodbye, Roberta. Arriverderci, Logan, she said. I nodded and walked outta JFK and hopped into a car. Had another weekend, another story, but that's for another time. Funny, airports are such sad and happy places at the same time. Labels: dialogue, goodbye, random meetings, traveling Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 2 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 12:09 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. |
