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04/23: Many of you (that is, if I have many readers at all) may be wondering about the martini glass that Dave has decided
to make such a prominnent part of my page. Does this mean Logan is a helpless alcoholic? You might wonder, is that why he
is so slow? Does the martnin make up the better oart of Logan's existance, as suggested by the graphic? Well, to all three
of those question I proudly answer no. However, I certainly couldnt answer no if anyone asked me if i got really smashed and
ran around wearing a cardboard box at Mike Levario's apartment, or, say, if I got a little sloppy and confronted an antique
wooden angel about that shifty smirk on its face. Has Logan ever been told to calm himself after drunkenly deriding someones
homie/ whereupon he slumped down in a chair and hugged his shoe? Guilty as charger. Punded shots and then spok in a thick
southern drawl about what makes a good stripper? You've got my number. Had a few too many and piled up grass in the middle
of Sheridan Road to prevent an alien invasion of Lake Forest College, upon hearing about it from a kid who apparently drank
windex? Cant say I havent. Gotten sauced and made chicken clucking noises into his faculty advisors answering machine? Indeed.
However, there is much more to my life than, say, getting faded and repeatedly asking the kid upstairs ffrom South Dakota
if the Badlands are really that bad. Don't fake the funk.
06/02: 'Badass Mofo' Fishing Trip Botched, Postponed Indefinately- In a dissapointing turn
of events, Logan and David failed to 'get their shit together' and collaborate on a venure that would have set the White Mountains
afire with a bonanza of mad angling skills (not like Tucson's Catalina Mountains, which are actually on fire). With both anglers
having been likened to the incompararble Jimmy Houston of many early morning fishing shows, the angling promised to be furious. The trip will likely be rescheduled to sometime in August, when the L-train will be
home again.
In a related incident, Brian Eller's skateboard was used to hit a sausage in a classic skateboard-and-sausage baseball
game.
Note: Hohman fished anyways and caught some ten fish. Two kids at Hawley lake were impressed and pointed
him out to their no-fish catchin' failure of a male role model. Also, Hohman wrote and even called but got no response from
Dick in trying to set up plans....for all the ladies, he is still currently available. Reach him here.
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06/09: Dick Dialogue Special Edition: A letter we recieved from Logan during
the fall when he worked the La Salles Bank Chicago Marathon. With the recent death of Marathon Gold medalist Mamo Wolde we thought we would include Logan's personal pain in the 26.2 mile event.
08/10/01: Holy crap!
The Chicago Marathon was an absolutely astounding experience. I'm not talking about seeing Paul Tergat and the pace-setter
dude who decided to win the race fly by at 4:50 pace, or Rod Dehaven and the other elite American guys, or the other africans
and Japanese dudes who looked like thouroughbreds at 22 miles, or Catherine Ndereba on her way to the world record- I am talking
about the thousands of people who aparently just decided to dust off their old Easy Spirits and have a go at a world-class
marathon, say, a couple days ago. At least, that's what it looked like. I know a marathon is fuckin' long and people are going
to break down totally, but from 6 to 7 hours after the race started, I was seeing this eternal stream of old people, fat people,
fat-old people and people in costumes walk by looking as if they had been walking the whole time. It was the most unbelievable
thing I have ever seen in running- these people paid an entry fee, signed up, got up early so they could walk, jog, and trot
26.2 miles on the city streets. These people were out there for over six, some 7 HOURS. As my friends and I walked towards
the park where the finish line was after the water stations CLOSED DOWN, we were strolling at a faster race pace than these
people. In the line for the port-a-poties there were these fourty to fifty year old ladies,with bib numbers and the official
timing chips tied to their shoes, standing in line, chatting before they did their buissness and got back to the 'race.' I
guess these crowds of people were just seizing this once a year opportunity for OVER SEVEN FUCKING HOURS OF USATF-SANCTIONED
WALKING AROUND! Most of them wrote their names of their shirts so onlookers could cheer for them as they broke out in a heroic
300 meter trotting surge. I hate to be a jackass, buy why? WHY? That was one fucking long day, I couldn't wait to take my
free jacket and hat and get the fuck out.
-Logan
07/09: L-Train Races Against Hate...Breaks Hate Off In Last Kilometer- On Saturday, June 28th,
the L-train took his show on the road for a blazing 18:10 5K at the Ricky Byrdsong Memorial Race Against Hate (Byrdsong was
a former U of A and Northwestern U basketball coach who was killed by a racist madman in 99). Facing a field that included
for Butler almost-NCAA-Cahmp and guy-who-beat-Adam-Goucher-in-pre-nats-in-Running-with-the-Buffaloes, Julius Mwangi and the
little squirt from the Lake Forest Running Club with the Mighty Mouse tatto, Logan finished 25th or somthing, and only lost
to about htree wymin. After the race, he was accosted by Man0fSeas0ns.Tripod.Com correspondent, David Cassidy, who bombarded
the Train with such questions as, 'how did you feel about your race?' 'how do you feel about the upcoming cross country season?'
and 'May I please see your Johnson?'
An excerpt from the interview below:
DC-After your heroic showing at the Taste of Chicago Festival yesterday in which you consumed BBQ hot
links, cajun alligator tails, two servings of BBQ chicken wings, beer battered artichoke hearts, black bean cake, Harry Carray's
fried dough, a funnel cake and two free sample bottles of Mountain Dew Code Red, how did you feel this morning?
LD-I felt surprisingly good, especially considering that my discman went dead while I was spinning my
pre-race Wu-Tang. Harry Carray's fried dough single-handedly powered me through the first mile.
DC-When you saw Julius Mwangi, were you intimidated?
LD-I really didn't see much of Mwangi. It was a first rate, limey-style, ass-whuppin'.
DC- How do you think this race bodes for your upcoming cross season?
LD- I feel pretty good about things. I would have like to have been faster, but my legs have been dead
this week, and I still think I could have held pace for another mile.
DC- 5:50 pace, eh? That's pretty lame.
LD- Back the fuck off Cassidy! But, yes, yes it is. I'll be laying down 29 minutes 8K's in no time.
DC- That's still pretty lame.
LD- Look! I know where every Partridge Family member lives!
DC-Sorry. May I see your junk?
LD- No.
07/08: ***BOOK PROMOTION*** "Glass blizzards through the rusty limestone streets exploded flesh from
the laughing bones." -William S. Burroughs, in "The Soft Machine." Think about it. Or rather, just let it resonate throughout
your conscience and run across your usual sets of linguistic patterns and word association lines. Yes, if anyone has
been wondering what's I've been doing at college over the summer, I have been assisting Proffessor Davis "Dont worry if I
write rhymes--I write checks" Schneiderman in the assembly pf a book of earth-shattering critical essays on this man.
the book isnt scheduled for release until a year from now, but i thought I'd get the word out now, so you can prepare yourselves.
I know you are all my fans of my writing, so eat your hearts out--for this book, I wrote the Table of Contents
(But then Davis "Bout it, bout it (Postmodernism, that is)." Shneiderman had to adjust it a little. So look for it in Oprah's
Postmodern Criticism Book of the Month Club.
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