The Day, The Night

There's A Lovely Fire

Aaron threw a pair of large sharp scissors at Kimble, in an attempt to hit a moving target, and kill an innocent living thing.

My temper flared up.  I've grown really comfortable with my temper in the last year.  There's a lovely fire inside, and it's quite a sight to be with.  This time, it came up in full flower.  The lawn was hot, the air was hot, and I shouted a really great stream.  It was a brilliant insult that worked on both intellectual and profane levels.

Aaron's shot had missed, and Kimble realized he was in danger after the scissors flew past his head.  He cowered and I jumped.  For the first time Aaron was not my superior.  The physical had been taken out of the equation, which meant he could be beaten physically.  I flowed, and beat the crap out of him.  There was blood everywhere. 

Then I demanded that he leave his blue belt and get off the farm.

From My Correspondence Today

I'm just saying that if you go steampunk on me, I will drop you straight away.

Monster Kaos, M-80, Original, and Java Mean Bean

I love energy drinks. 

First of all, the packaging.  It's just so wrong.  How does one represent the high of a stimulant in liquid form?  It needs to look more adult than a soda.  It needs to be serious.  But not too old.  And not too 'together', otherwise it looks like you'll have more composure after you consume it.  You are looking for the opposite of composure, yo.

Second of all, the flavors are just all over the map.  Most of them are terrible.  But there are a few delights.  I cried a pink tear the day the gorgeously berry flavored Tab Energy stopped production.  That stuff rocked the party hard. 

Third, it's the evolution of a hobby.  I collected beer cans as a child.  My dad built a dozen shelves for my collection in the garage. 

I feel the need to record some of my musings here.  This will spare my friends from receiving unsolicited emails about a topic which probably interests only me.

Monster Kaos: tastes like a juice mix that is attempting to approximate the flavor of Tang.  With the Monster blend of wow, which they just put in everything.  This is by far my favorite Monster so far, mostly because I felt really high after I had finished it.

Monster M-80: another "juice" blend, except this one tastes like guava/pineapple popsicle that has melted.  Terrible.

Monster Original: Tasted like Mountain Dew or whatever.  If it's all that's available, it's serviceable, but I honestly can't tell you what it actually tasted like.  Forgettable.

Monster Java Mean Bean: my first foray into the Monster Java line of energy drinks.  It's like a liquid toffee candy.  Or one of my favorite Japanese expresso shot drinks I would by by the dozens each day while in Tokyo: too much sugar, lots of caffeine, and just a touch of cream, and something of an echo of coffee flavoring.  But at 16 ounces it's kind of a project to finish it all, irresistible as the overload of sugar seems at first.

When You Know Jiu Jitsu

Yesterday, waiting for our train back to Manhattan, master teacher asked me this:

"Shad, when you know jiu jitsu?"

I took him to mean when did I first know jiu jitsu.  There is an implicit compliment there.  Was he saying that I know jiu jitsu?  After eleven months of focused training, I would never venture to say more than that I know a few bits here and there, but that I have only just met jiu jitsu.  Never mind that I tapped a blue belt three times this week.  I was honored, confused, secretly thrilled, and trying hard to look modest.  All at once.  I was stopped.

I dug deeper, as I do.  When trying to look good, instead look profound, because most people just think you're really smart and thoughtful, not avoiding looking immodest or cheeky.  I've got too many friends who call me on it not to know outright that this is a technique I'm skilled at.  And so I had an answer to the question: I knew jiu jitsu, the way I have known enlightenment, in the space of a blink.  Which is to say I am aware that I can access it, but cannot stop it, name it, or even realize I am perceiving it without banishing it from the present.  The first time it happened was probably last November or December.  Now I glimpse it quite often.  The trick is to put my life into my jiu jitsu training.  Make everything work in service of the jits.  Everything I do becomes part of the flow, and I'm rewarded with being inside jiu jitsu more often.  Occasionally I will focus on doing this and it all goes to shambles.

Master teacher immediately rescued me from going down my incredibly profound little rabbit hole, the way he does when we roll.  After all, jiu jitsu is the efficient art.  It cuts through the stuff.   He was simply asking how I had become aware of Brazilian Jiu Jitsu after playing rugby and lifting weights for four years.

My Little Ukulele

I wish I had an orchestra behind me
To show you how I feel
Well the orchestra remains imaginary
But this little ukulele's real.

I wish I had an orchestra behind me
When you lose faith an orchestra gives proof
Well the orchestra can you tell you pretty stories
But this little ukulele tells the truth.

We're Gonna Rise

No counsel, no grand strategy
No sword to fall on
No rules, fact, or fate
Just a light on my face

That little shimmy deep in the center of your brain tissue is the wiggle when everything is, always, inexorably, alive. You can only sense it in these moments of deep clarity, on the subway home, when the panoply of the city opens itself to you in the shadows of the tile in the Lexington Avenue N/R/W platform.

We're gonna rise
Feel a light on my face

And your jiu jitsu (not mine, but yours dear reader) is always dancing, and warm, and electric, and earthy, and powerful. And your body (yours, not mine) is always well. Even when it is not.

Speak of a man's great thoughts
I'll tell the story, or not

And the words I am typing about this are woefully inadequate. So I will leave them as they are.

Appealing Attributes, Diagram 1

Part 1 of many.

Much thanks to Joel Friesen's brilliant and ever-funny Why You Should Continue To Date Me: A Series Of Charts And Graphs.

This Is Today

It Takes The Physical Out Of It

From my conversation last night:

"Practicing martial arts causes a change in you, in how you deal with conflict. Every day conflicts are different. It takes the physical dimension out of a face to face argument."

When You Can Fly, It Doesn't Matter What You Fucking Wear

"Let's go, baby."  She has her hand outstretched.  Her sister is next to her.  She is wearing that lovely little black tank top I like.  When I reached for her hand, I noticed it wasn't her tank top: it was mine.

I'm ready.

I was laughing.  I felt happy.  Strong.  Sex.  The last time we did this is was just her and I.  It was last night.  She strokes the back of my ear again and I smile.  Usually when women do this I get embarrassed.  My child's voice kicks in: I can't have this.  But with her it never happens like that.  I'm glad her sister is here too.  They're both so beautiful.  These women hold that irresistible female spark that never fails to grab my attention.  The fact that it would be so wrong for some of my friends if I went with a woman at this stage of things made their companionship that much more attractive to me.  But frankly that was just icing on the cupcakes.

Together I can float us up to where we need to go.  The superhero's costumes my friends wear are redundant: when you can fly, it doesn't matter what you fucking wear.  My white t-shirt, purchased at the Wal-Mart in Bowling Green, Ohio, along with the Rustler jeans purchased the same, are equivalent to any cape and color  The only important thing is to wear tough shoes, like the ones I need to wear to jobsites.  Otherwise they get destroyed too easily. 

It's like the gi.  You can wear the oldest, crappiest gi on earth.  If it's clean, and you train a lot, and have great jiu jitsu, the whole is transformed into a jewel that cannot be replicated by any art director on earth.

Speaking of gi, and jewel, we were on our way to rescue the handsome brown belt I met a couple of nights ago.  He was in trouble, the way our master teacher was in trouble the night before.  She and I rescued master teacher.  I flew us in, and we kicked ass, and we all got away.  We had a picnic at the lake after it was all over.  He scolded me after it was over for not keeping my hips down when I passed the guard, and as the wind tickled my nose, and beard stubble, and short hair (#4 on top, 1.5 on the sides) I resolved to keep hips down when I pass the guard during saving the brown belt. 

The handsome brown belt was in his gi.  An old gi, from his school in Brazil.  He looked glorious.  Not as beautiful as my companions, but it did not matter.  He had his gi, and his jiu jitsu.  He liked my friend's sister, even though I was pretty sure she was only going on this ride to get into my pants.  Again, somehow my dumb white belt jiu jitsu was the key for making everything okay.  When it was over we went to the movies together.  Double date.