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LoganLo On (or close to) Schedule |
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Friday, November 21, 2008 | |
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In front of you Location: at the rents, in front of the tube Mood: restless Music: get your plane ride on time I know your part'll go fine  Her: (sadly in Chinese) God doesn't care about me any more. I'm too old. 86. Me: That's not true. He's the one who put me in front of you. Saw an old friend for dinner last night. We hadn't talked in ages; he's now the senior VP at a major internet marketing firm. We talked shop and it was like talking to an adult after being surrounded by kids all day. Like Sheridan and somea the others, he believes in me more than I do, I think. Man, I gotta get outta what I'm doing and back into my old life. On the way there, heard an old Chinese lady yelling over and over again, "CHINATOWN!" on 37th and Lex. She reminded me of my grandma. So I went over and told her in my crappy Chinese that I'd get her there. She was visiting an old friend in a hospital nearby and got lost. Took her arm, walked her to the right stop, and waited for the bus with her. Me: (to driver) Hey man, this nice little lady needs to get to Chinatown. Can you make sure she gets off on Bowery and Bayard? (driver nods and smiles broadly at her) Her: (to me in Chinese) Thank you - your Chinese's not as bad as you think. Me: (laughing) Nonsense. But I'll let my dad know you said so. Told you - God put me in front of you. Hopped off the bus and made it over to the Shelburne. Afterwards, walked from there to Columbus Circle, just cause I can't sleep anyway. Thought about my mom - if she got lost, I'd hope someone'd help her get home.Speaking of home, Heartgirl's on a plane back as I write this. Was only two weeks but I missed her terribly. YASYCTAI: Help someone old. Cause you'd want someone to do it for your ma. (20 mins/1 pts) Labels: dialogue, long walk home, story  Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 4 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 12:01 AM :: |
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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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Monday, November 10, 2008 | |
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Miami Location: finally back in NYC Mood: tired Music: Turning back she just laughs The boulevard is not that bad  Me: You look like a betting man. If I can get you 25 people, mostly girlies, will you get me a table? Him: I'll do better than that, I'll get you a bottle. Went to Florida for 20somthing hours over the weekend. Last minute decision; my brother's moving to Cali so he was having a last hurrah. Started out at the Chesterfield Hotel which was fulla doctors, nurses and booze. Lotsa booze. Onea the guys was getting frisky with onea the girls. Her: (to guy) Why are you touching me? I'm unclear on that.  Then we hopped over to a club called Cameo where, fortunately, some guy floated alla us in. Unfortunately, a bunch of guys in masks, dogs and guns stormed the club. Fortunately, they were cops. Unfortunately, they shut the joint down, arrested alla the owners and bartenders and, more dismaying, didn't lemme finish my drink. Him: There's some malfeasance going on.  The group decided to hit up another party but I ended up chatting with a promoter at another joint and managed to convince him to float us all in and comp us a bottle of vodka. He ended up buying me a buncha shots too. I like Miami.  The bartender leaned over and said she was buying me a shot of Tequila too. Told her that Tequila and I weren't on speaking terms but she bought me one anyway. At around 2AM, she pulled me onto the dance floor. Afterwards: Her: You're fun. (pause) Did you say you were leaving on the 20th? Me: No, I said I'm here for 20 hours. Her: Are you coming back soon? Me: Don't think so. Gotta head back to see the girlfriend. Her: Lucky lady. (smiles) Thanks again for the dance, Logan. Me: I'll let her know. Thanks for the dance, Lana. Crashed with everyone for a coupla hours. Woke up and ate, what I later found out, were cream puffs that were in the fridge for possibly a year.  Rushed to the airport, missed my flight, so went back to brother's. Try number two worked and I ended up in Newark airport at 21:15. Dropped my buddy Paul off downtown and zipped off to my favorite lady in the world. Him: Mom went to bed already. We'll get breakfast tomorrow. Nite. Heartgirl, my favorite lady whom I'm not related to, is away for a few weeks. In Africa. Think I miss her already. But it's probably for the best. The next two weeks are gonna be rough.  YASYCTAI: Go somewhere completely different soon. You need a change of latitude. (Two weeks/3 pts) Labels: dialogue, flying, random meetings, story, traveling Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 2 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 12:07 AM :: |
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Monday, October 27, 2008 | |
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Strawberry Swing Location: home, and running late Mood: tired Music: without you it's a waste of time   Saturday, saw my brother for massive amounts of pizza. He doesn't live in NYC so whenever he's here, he gets his fill.   Met some nice people and one girl that asked, "Can we be friends?" Brought HEI a bottle of rum. We all almost kicked it that night. Rolled home at 2AM and woke up the next day without a hangover. Love that rum.  Sunday night, go with Heartgirl and one of her friends to see Coldplay in concert. Heartgirl doesn't like being in pictures. She does like being with me though. Fair trade. Duffy was the opening act. Spent $11.25 for a diet coke, pretzel and package of Reese's Pieces. Coldplay was amazing in concert. Seem like nice fellas.  Got home five minutes to midnight. Now I'm home getting ready to run out the door. And you? How was your weekend? YASYCTAI: Treat yourself to a small concert. The last major one I went to was 20 years ago. (90 mins/1 pts) Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 2 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 8:46 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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Friday, May 30, 2008 | |
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McGuffins, Caterpillars and Pepe le Pew Location: home Mood: beat tired Music: tell your white knight that he’s handsome in hindsight With nods to a friend. According to Hitchcock, a guy on a train sees something above and asks another dude what it is. Guy2: It's a McGuffin. It's used to catch lions in Scotland. Guy1: There're aren't any lions in Scotland. Guy2: Well then, a McGuffin's nuthin at all.Used in stories or film, a McGuffin's just a device that the characters place meaning onto to move the story along, like in Ronin where they're all chasing after some briefcase but we never find out why it's important. It's just important cause they made it important. With the exception of health and family, I submit that a lotta of what you put your heart and soul with, it's nuthin at all. A lotta what I put my heart and soul into is nuthin at all. At the enda the cartoon above, the characters're the same; the situation's the same. The only thing that's changed is each character's perception of reality. But, man, that's everything, that's the whole nut, yeah? Heard once that, On the day he thought he died, the caterpillar turned into a butterfly. It's dorky, overly sentimental and hopeful. Like me. Speaking of which, y'know, I pretty much am Pepe le Pew when I'm out and about. And 'bout as successful. S'ok, I have fun...Bonjour Week-end! Où sont les filles? Labels: discussion, hope, story Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 3 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 12:05 AM :: |
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Friday, May 23, 2008 | |
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Armed and Dangerous Location: my childhood bed Mood: wicked once again Music: another evil force tellin' me to do what I gotta do  Me: There are three types of people in the world. Single, sorta single and not single. Her: Not true, there's a fourth. Me: (puzzled) Really, what's that?Her: (laughing and flashing a ring on her left hand) An MBA - Married But Available. We all carry our homemade weapons with us. The everyday items that, when against the wall, we flick out and stab others with. My intellect instantly becomes arrogance; wit, sarcasm; focus, aggression. Faster than the blink of a teary eye. It's parta why I don't curse - that's just gas on a fire. At some point in every relationship, you got that split-second choice on whether or not to draw those weapons. Once those daggers come out, man, there's no going back. There's no putting toothpaste back inna tube. A monster, No. 6 once said of me. We'd such a bloody end; I said things no one should ever say. Then again, so did she. Just spoke to her not that long ago. My fine handiwork's still in her voice. Cause I'm the skillest with my sharp objects. The killest with my blunt instruments. Every fencer knows to take care when drawing. Cause you're always just as likely to cut yourself as your adversary. I don't recall a time I ever drew first and didn't cut myself more. Not once. And I'm never unarmed. The skillest and killest. It's a horrid gift. ---------- A different girlie: Her: Hey Logan. (pause) I'd like to be friends. I think we could be friends. Me: I'd really like that. Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 3 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 12:02 AM :: |
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Sunday, May 11, 2008 | |
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Mother's Day 2008 Location: 20 mins ago, making a smoothie in my kitchen Mood: anxious Music: I still believe there's something left for you and me  Another weekend - pretty much like every other. Crashed a few parties, met a few girlies, the usual spring twirl. Spilled a drink on this guy that was too blotto to realize it. Clumsy me. Told you that I'm terribly clumsy, yeah? Fell down some stairs a few years ago and the left side of my face was crushed in. After some work, the doctors sewed me up. Met up with each of my family individually and they each said, I can't see it. But a second after my mom walked upstairs, she immediately, and wordlessly, burst into tears . The first thing she said was, I'll pay for plastic surgery. I laughed. Mothers know their kids, I think. When my drama first came down, she called me to tell me to come home. Told her I was too busy. But she demanded that I come. So I rummaged around for the best smile I could find and wore it home. You look great, my dad said. But my mom took one look at me and burst into tears. Like I said, mothers know their kids. She told me I could always move back home and that made me laugh. Great, I said, I'll be a 35 year old man living with his parents. (on the positive side, that'd certainly solve my dating dilemmas right quick). I'd cook, she said. That made me laugh even more. So I gave her a kiss and told her that if it came down to it, I'd do that. That seemed to make her happy. She says that she knows I'll be fine. Mothers know their kids so I hope she's right. Did I ever tell you my mom's a writer? She gets published a lot more than me. It's from her side of the family; my grandfather's a writer too. All this comes from her. Off to see her now.  Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 2 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 1:02 PM :: |
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Monday, April 14, 2008 | |
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Monday Always Comes a Day Too Soon Location: all over the damn place Mood: confused Music: risk all this for just a kiss I promise I will not resist  Using a broken chopstick and four rubber-bands, spend the night mounting a 2.5" HD into a 3.5" bay in my DVR. Used to spend a lotta Fridays like that. No lie. Saturday night, hit up a girlie's party in Jersey. Met someone whom I may have kissed over New Year's, but I don't think so. Then again, been wrong before. An hour into it, get a call from SX. She's in Jersey too. Her: Let's meet up half-way. Me: (thinking) OK, I'm game. We end up at a diner just east of no-freaking-where. Her blond hair falls into her eyes when she walks in, laughs and says, This is crazy. I smile and nod. In one of our conversations, I tell her that I occasionally kiss the women I meet. Her: You're a tongue-whore. Me: Do people say that? It's almost 5AM when we call it a night. Sunday, wake up, do my situps and clean up my train-wreck of a pad. Meet up with a Hazel-Eyed Italian for caramels who lives around the way with an easy laugh. She asks about my dating life so I take a deep breath and tell her. Her: Oh...you're a tongue-slut. Me: Wow, people really do say that. And I prefer whore, thank you. We walk around the big city for a bit. Pointing at some violets, she says that she never sees enough of them here. I smile in agreement before she slips underground and I dash off to church. I slide into a pew and sit by my lonesome in the back. Find myself staring just a little too long at the smug couples around me. I excuse myself, go to the restroom and wash my face for no particular reason. Then trudge up the steps to sit alone again. Monday always comes a day too soon, yeah? Labels: dating, dialogue, single life, story Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 0 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 12:06 AM :: |
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Friday, April 04, 2008 | |
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It's better my way Location: my apartment, all day Mood: hopeful Music: don't shed no tears  My feet is my only carriage. But if you listen to it, it sounds more like: My fear is my only courage. Since I was a kid, I misheard it. Figures. My life as a kid was all wrong. Y'know, back then, I was so poor and so fat, only really had four shirts. It's all we could afford. All my fat ass could fit. Red. Yellow. Brown-striped. And this god-awful sky blue velvet one. Hey - betcha I got more clothes than you. I got more clothes than anyone I've ever met. Anyone. And I meet a lotta folk. Statement of fact, that's all. Cause when I made some scratch, I bought clothes. Like 200+ ties. Not cheap ties, the good stuff. Man, I don't even wear ties. All I do is wear jeans and tee-shirts, now. Finally grew outta it, I guess. But y'never grow outta that deep fear, do you? That deep fear that makes no @#$ sense. The fear that I'll wake up and be this fat, poor, lonely dork in sixth grade again. Y'know, my classmates threw rocks at me? Seriously, rocks. No lie, this latest drama's no fun. But when you're in sixth grade and your classmates think stoning you's high sport, well, that preps you for pretty much anything. Don't want pity. Don't want charity. I just want a sec. Just gimme a sec - catch my breath, get on my feet. If you wanna do something for me, buy me some rum when you see me. Otherwise, Labels: discussion, story Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 0 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 12:04 AM :: |
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Friday, February 22, 2008 | |
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Music Week Day 4 - Bedtime stories Location: 20:00, locked out of my car and freezing in Queens Mood: sotted Music: they keep getting younger, Don't they baby? no mother ever thinks that her daughter's gonna grow up to sleep alone. I was listening to this song before I fell asleep one night and I had the strangest dream about a man who couldn't sleep and woman who wouldn't speak. I'd like to tell it to you. If I can remember it all, I will. I'll add that to the list of things I've gotta do. I'm sorry for all of those of you that said you could help - I don't think I can do the rum project. No time. There's never enough time these days. Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 2 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 12:30 AM :: |
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Monday, January 28, 2008 | |
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9 to 6 or 6 to 9 / 25 or 6 to 4 Location: two hours ago, having dinner on Columbus Mood: restless Music: Searching for something to say; Waiting for the break of day  Half-an-hour earlier, I'm walking alone in the snow to the West Side Highway to catch a cab home. An hour earlier, I'm in Guest House with Gio and Paul both gaming the same hottie. Drama. I'm too old for drama. As usual Gio floated us in and gets us a table with a bottle of vodka. Not my poison but it's comped so I take it. I chat up a group of lovely Irish actresses and girl from Kentucky that's a great dancer. Two hours earlier, I'm in Sway being told by a girlie from Holland that I should meet her again in the hidden club at the Village. Nah. Four hours earlier, I'm with "Clara" celebrating her birthday at Sugar. I tell her to text all my friends: Logan's all up in my grill - where are you guys? thinking they'll come save her. Nope. Six hours earlier, I run into an old ghost from my club days. I tell him I'm a Christian and don't run hustle or sweatboxes any more. I don't think he believed me. He woulda never had believed I got grifted. Seven hours earlier, I'm speaking crappy German and Chinese to Benlbr at The Back Room where John McEnroe slipped past me. Ben and I are on our own tight schedules but it's good to meet up. Eight hours earlier, I'm stepping into Bar 151 with Paul to see Kung, the Grey-Eyed Girl and Randi. Two girls smile at me but I demur to saying hello. I'm on a schedule. I'm on the wrong side of 9PM when I stick my key in my door and turn to lock it. I'm wondering what'll happen this weekend. Labels: long walk home, New York City, NYC, random meetings, single life, story Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 5 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 12:05 AM :: |
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Thursday, January 24, 2008 | |
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Well, that's weird... Location: 20:47 yest, exiting the subway Mood: working Music: oooh I really liked you, must have been your attitude  Well, that's weird, I thought as I peered into my aquarium, where're all the fish? I looked closer and they were all floating. That's not good. Interestingly, little bubbles were all over my plants - so many in fact, that one was freed from the gravel and floated up to the top. I've been busy and away a lot, but I had an electronic feeder so they shoulda been fine. Sighing, I grabbed the net and began to reach into the tank to fish soma the poor buggers out when: ZZZZAP!!!! I got a nasty, nasty shock and jumped back. I thought, That can't be. So I did what any red-blooded guy would do: I did it again BAM! Another shock. Dammit. The heater had fallen into the water and electrocuted all my fish. I wish I could draw sometimes, because I think my life would make a good cartoon. ---------- I should be here until Friday for some work. I went to college there a long time ago. I'm looking forward to pigging out at the food hall - because, deep-down, I'm a fatty-fat-fat. Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 5 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 12:05 AM :: |
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Friday, January 18, 2008 | |
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You and I know the reason why / Her Location: 20:00 yest, caught in the rain Mood: slightly less sick Music: We'd spend our days travelin' I fell in and out of imaginary love driving past 66th Street and Fifth Avenue. She was wearing jeans with a black hat, waiting for the light to change. She looked at me and we locked eyes. Just a moment really, but it seemed longer. I dunno why, but I thew her a wink and she burst out laughing. So she blew me a kiss and waved as she crossed the street. I laughed by myself in my car. For a moment I thought about calling out to her but then I figured, why ruin a perfectly good moment? The light changed anyway, as it always does so she and I blended back into the 8.2. Maybe it was her again - I still have her heart. It's finally Friday. I'm still sick but I think I'm good enough to have some red rum and daydream about Her and what might've been. Labels: New York City, NYC, random meetings, story Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 7 comments ::
Links to this post :: Posted by Me @ 12:04 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 10, 2008 | |
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You don't have Location: 7:20, sitting next to a pretty girl Mood: sick Music: All my friends say that of course it's gonna get better Doctor: You don't have cancer. It's a cyst, non-cancerous and it won't become cancerous Me: (sighing with relief) You have no idea how good it is to hear that. Doctor: (laughing) I have some idea. Wear a cup when you work out and briefs in general.Me: Who knew that I coulda taken away somea this recent stress by wearing tighty-whities? I almost wept when he said I didn't have cancer. No lie. Score one for me. The only person I told in the whole world besides the docs was my brother. Secrets are lonely things. For the male readers of this blog, you should know that: Although rare, testicular cancer is the most common form of cancer in men between the ages of 20 and 34.2. Take that under advisement. It only took five visits, three months, three doctors, three urine tests, two blood tests and one ultra-sound to find out. To celebrate, I made myself a burger on whole wheat. No ketchup, mayo. I'm sick with a cold but that I can handle. Sorry for the scare; I was up all night worrying. Crazy right? Just madness... Subscribe!Permanent Link :: 3 comments :: Links to this post :: Posted by | |
