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LoganLo On (or close to) Schedule |
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Tuesday, January 19, 2010 | |
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Fatty of my own Location: three blocks away Mood: stuffed Music: Sleep tonight And may your dreams Be realized  Walked down to Times Square from the UWS to catch the da Vinci exhibit. That's a whole entry there but just lemme say that: (a) there was a time when religion, science, and art went together and (b) it strikes me as really strange that the same country that gave us da Vinci gave us the people on the Jersey Shore. Speakinga giving us people, Bryson came by with his fatty today and she was the cutest thing. Make's me think about having a kid myself. Then again, can barely take carea George and Harold. Still, think all guys start thinking about cranking out a few rug rats roundabout this time. As I told you before, Bryson's no joke - took the bronze at the Pan-Americans. But something about a kid mellows a fella out. Cooked him up some wings and we kicked back a beer as she drooled happily all over him. Then had dinner with a buddy that owns this jaw-dropping 4,400 SF pad and four kids a few blocks from me. It's cool, seeing your friends become men. Like I said, maybe I'll get a fatty of my own some day. YASYCTAI: Remember MLK; text HAITI to 90999. (2 mins/1 pt) Labels: another entry, family, george, harold, MLK  Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 2 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 8:23 AM :: |
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Tuesday, June 24, 2008 | |
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Derek Location: home Mood: sad Music: And I'm asking the good Lord "why?" and sigh  Found out through Benlbr that our friend Derek is in the hospital. Hit and run driver. From what I know, it's touch and go; he's not awake. It's very scary. He was the stoner in our show, 72 to Canal. I don't know him that well but I like him; he's young and talented. I hope very, very much that he gets a chance to be old and talented. I pray he gets that chance. Like most people in NYC, I run into him in the life. When he first found out that I had taken up photography, he was like a kid in a pot-filled candystore. He's such a good guy. Wish I could say something profound but the words escape me at the moment. I'll tell my brother to let you know if anything happens to me. Cause you should know. We're friends, after all. ---------- With nods to Irnbruise, this guy is selling his entire life online. He's going to walk out of his house with the clothes on his back and his wallet. I can relate. Of course, I'd take Harold and Syd. No worries. I'll tell if I've gone fishing. I'd like to start over again where nobody knows me. Have all my stupid mistakes a million miles away. But we all got our baggage, yeah? Even if it's only what we carry inside. Labels: Derek Srisaranard, harold, hope, Syd, traveling Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 5 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 7:24 PM :: |
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Wednesday, April 23, 2008 | |
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Uncool me Location: my blue couch Mood: throughly confused Music: I think she’s leaving Ooh man she’s leaving  Her: Wait, you only have one bowl? Me: (shrugging) I only have one me. I don't have an iPod - don't have an "i" anything, in fact. Someday maybe, not now. Almost all my music, DVDs, books, papers, works, I've digitized and put into a computer I built myself. I watch it all through either a TV I bought seven years ago or a projector I use for business. Got alotta Valentino shirts and about eight custom-made suits but I bought 'em all at least a decade ago when I was young and stupid. Tee-shirts and Levi jeans for me. Drama notwithstanding, I spend coin on:
Where do you think the happiest place on earth is? It's here. Not what you expect, huh? Happiness comes from community and purpose. Stuff cannot make you happy. Don't be fooled by ad execs (I was one) - there's no pill, shirt, shoes, phone, that will make you happy. Working jobs you hate, to buy crap you don't need, to impress those you don't know - that's just !#@$ nuts. Connecting, man, that's where it's at. Ah, but there's the rub. Another person cannot make you happy. But losing them can make you all sortsa bent outta shape. Connecting. It's harder than one might imagine: Her: Can you not call me? Me: Tonight or ever? Her: (pause) Ever. (click)---------- 20080424:09:30 Edit - The conversations I write of are all taken out of context on purpose. As a general rule, when I write of someone I date, please refrain from writing anything rude of them? Labels: dialogue, disappointed, discussion, geroge, harold, Syd Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 6 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 1:53 AM :: |
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Friday, March 28, 2008 | |
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A Day in the Life Location: three hours ago, Dive 75 Mood: sotted Music: I read the news today, oh boy  Was in the paper this past week and a HS friend recognized me and shot me an email. Then Paul and I grabbed a drink around then way with Stephen Phillips. And then I got home and spent the night talking to the Sexologist I met this past weekend. And I still need to come up with $26K. NYC's a funny place. ---------- Radio snaps on. McCain, Clinton, Obama. War. Housing market. Sigh. Six hours sleep. Very good. Situps (auf deutch) ...48...49...50. Rub eyes. Check computer next to bed. Geek, me. Stretch. Stumble outta bed, stumble to kitchen. Kitchen 7:08 Two cups coffee. Peanut butter & marmalade sandwich. Spoonful of ice cream. Protein shake. Gag. Living Room 7:14 Push-ups (yung zhong wen)...48...49...50. 10 minutes of fencing. Sambrada three, four & five, right handed. Double-handed. Left-handed. Espada y daga. Wonder why they never made a sequel to The Princess Bride. Bathroom 7:35 Wash hands. Brush teeth. Consider combing hair. Don't. Living Room 7:38 Blue jeans. Black shirt. Grey socks. Good Morning America. Shut down computer. Pen. Wallet. Money. Mobile. Headset. Computer bag. Goodbye George, Goodbye Harold, and Goodbye Sydney. Outside 8:00 Shut door. Lock gate. Deep breath... Blue skies, above. Concrete, below. Troubles, behind (for now). Labels: george, harold, single life, sydney Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 0 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 1:13 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. |
