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LoganLo On (or close to) Schedule |
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Friday, December 19, 2008 | |
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Potential Location: On a corduroy couch Mood: sick Music: Maybe I'll sleep when I am dead But now it's like the night is taking sides  Her: Algebra - pretty much any math. Me: I'm a terrible Asian; math was never a fun class for me. Mine were English and history. Some science was cool too - like when we dissected owl pellets. (pause) Did you ever have a trapper keeper? Her: Yes. Me: (thinking) Man, they sucked. Didn't trap or keep a damn thing. Think I'm sick. Not sure. But quite possibly. It's been a really productive week. Trying to wrap up business issues before the end of the year. For what seems to be the third year in a row, I've not been able to really enjoy my favorite time of year; from the day before Thanksgiving to the day after New Year's. Wish I were clearheaded. Always cloudy cause I'm sick, I'm beat, or I'm bending time. Sometimes all three at once. Then my mind wanders. Me: What if I'm not smart at all? What if I just remember things - stupid things. Things that're only good for games shows and cocktail conversations? Smart people don't get their life savings stolen. My brother and sister're smart - I joke a lot that I get by on my charm. (pause) But what if that's true? Her: (thinking) I think you're smart. At least 50% of the time I don't sleep, lie awake wondering. Everyone thinks I've got all this potential. But it's almost 2009. I'm another year closer to getting my ticket punched.When I don't sleep, lie awake wondering about things that I'm afraid to put out in the aether. YASYCTAI: Read a novel. A good one. (eight days/2 pts)  Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 4 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 12:16 AM :: |
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Friday, October 24, 2008 | |
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Glory Days Location: my parent's living room Mood: nostalgic Music: hope when I get old I don't sit around thinking about it  Inigo Montoya: I admit it, you are better than I am. Man in Black: Then why are you smiling? Inigo Montoya: Because I know something you don't know. When you get beat up as often as I did as a kid, you either get all decked out in black and go Columbine, or you just learn how to fight. And for those of you that know me, never do anything half-assed. Bryson's one of my best friends and was a striker like me. He outweighed me by 20-40 pounds but I was fast and flexible. We were always toe-to-toe. Until he started grappling. So I started too. Then, a little after 9/11, I got injured. A kimura gone horribly wrong. Doc said I could either get surgery and lose 10% of my range of motion or rehab it and lose as little as 2%. Chose the latter. He said it'd take up to four years. It took seven. Stopped watching NHB stuff cause it made me sad. Didn't wanna be one of those guys that spent his time talking about his glory days. During those seven years, Bryson worked to the point that he's a Pan-American Bronze Medalist. And he knew something his opponents didn't - that as good as he was on the ground, he was even better on his feet. I knew that. My jaw knew that. Me? I stopped. Got fat. Settled down with a girlie. The only place I'm still better than Bryson's with a sword. But even then, he's almost my match. We both know he's better than me, he's just too polite to ever say it. Some days, forget that I'm 35. Then my body reminds me. The last time I felt good about my right lead was in the mid-90s. We spoke recently and he told me that he just got a similar injury. He finds out next week if he can roll again. I understood. Told him that he got seven years on me and he agreed. Small comfort, I know. After we got off the phone, sat back and remembered when we weren't old men. Instead, we're in the muddy backyard of my college house. He'd swing on by, we'd laugh. Then we'd kunckle up and roll. Man in Black: And what is that? Inigo Montoya: I...am not left-handed. YASYCTAI: Look up an old friend. Cyberstalking's easy with Facebook et al (10 mins/1 pt) Labels: disappointed, discussion, nostalgia, story Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 3 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 12:20 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, May 09, 2008 | |
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Elsewho Location: 19:00 yest, Malachy's with Heidi and Buckley Mood: sotted Music: I used to go out to parties and stand around Rain: Can I borrow your phone? Me: (absentmindedly) Sure. Rain: Here you go.Me: Thanks. Hey - what'd you do? Rain: Nuthin! So paranoid...I'm in a 300 year old building in Passau that's been converted to apartments. The ceilings are high with wooden floors and painted on the entire far wall is a pop art portrait of a blond girl crying. Honey and Katherine are there. We'd just gotten back from Vienna. A woman I love is there too. She whispers her nonsense word into my ear and I whisper mine back. We're having an early dinner of pasta when Marvin Gaye comes on. Honey shrieks, and jumps onto the table to dance when my girl pulls me up and says, "You too" as I laugh and follow. She smiles, turns back to me and says - (phone alarm rings, it's 5:15AM in NYC) Me: (sit up and look groggily at phone) Dammit Rain...dammit... Fall back into bed and plot revenge against Rain. Sigh. Toss off covers. Flip on Ghosts of Goodbye and start doing situps as ghosts fade away. Eins, zwei, drei...  Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 0 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 12:03 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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Tuesday, January 15, 2008 | |
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Postcards and Peanut Butter Location: 9:00 yest, the subway platform, waiting Mood: yep, still sick Music: I'll get over you, I know I will  I think Life's talking to me again. The Grey-Eyed Girl and Berlingirl told me I should listen. I'm trying. I blog less these days so it doesn't become a daily bitch-fest (Let's see what minor disaster befell Logan today). From 1994 to 2001, I pretty much disappeared. I made a sick amount of money, worked out constantly, traveled everywhere and wrote like you couldn't believe - like Ted Kaczynski on crack. Somewhere between page 1 and 972, I squeezed in law school, a fairly successful nightclub business, a few published works and 3.5 relationships. Through it all, my family was there, but I expected that. But I was a bit surprised that my friends always were too. There's this old joke that you have friends because you can't pick your family. I can see that. I bring this all up because some college buddies called me outta blue last week to check up on me. Bryson also stopped by last night to buy me dinner. And The Laura, Betts, someone that doesn't want to be mentioned and Daiseefut all recently sent me postcards. Plus, my church was talking about Job again, the 'rents are strangely insightful and I'm having these deep philosophical discussions in the weirdest joints. Odder still, two people I've not seen in at least 14 years randomly reached out to me; one today when I was eating my dinner of peanut butter outta the jar with a metal spoon. I was so surprised, I dropped the spoon. So yeah, I think Life's telling me something and, like I said, I'm trying to listen. I'm trying awfully hard. Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 5 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 12:04 AM :: |
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Thursday, January 03, 2008 | |
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Sue and the King Location: 14:00 yest, being poked on 33rd & Lex Mood: stressed Music: its bad in December When they play those Christmas songs By the time you read this, I should be about here. An ex popped into my head today on the drive home. She's happily living in London with her new fella. I told her two summers ago that I would take a picture of my place and send it to her since it changed so much and she couldn't picture it. I never got around to it. I always think of her around this time because we traveled together for the holidays. She and I got along great but it just wasn't right. I really should take that pic of my apartment and email it to her but I never do. It's kinda nice at times when people pop into your head for no reason - like they stopped by for a cup of tea or something. Me: Stay, stay...just for a bit. I have Earl Grey and something sweet. Her: OK, just for a bit. I miss her; not so much the romance part but the friend part. I think that's what I always miss with every ex. This song makes me laugh but the King was right, few things are as good as Susan when she tried. Labels: Elvis, ex-girlfriend, nostalgia, the king Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 0 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 12:14 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. |
