I am becoming...?

I've grappled twice this week, fairly light stuff but I'm yet to be wracked with pain. I'm debating whether or not I should do it tonight. I may just do some kickboxing and call it a night. It would appear though, that I should be able to grapple in a limited capacity at least.

The slow build

I took two fitness kickboxing classes last week, coupled with a JKD class each. I've yet to feel any serious pain from this experiment.. I worked out earlier today, and I'll be taking another fitness kickboxing* class tonight. My legs still feel...I don't know, soft, vulnerable. Granted some of that is psychological, I'm very much afraid of the potential pain, and some of it is purely physical: my legs simply haven't been used much in the last 6 months.

I still feel the pain, two needles dancing on my nerves. Reclining continues to work though, as I've managed to control the pain at 0-3 most of the time.








*In our dojo think of this as a level 0 foundations class that emphasises the basic 10 boxing combinations as prescribed by Sifu. I've discovered that, when used judiciously, it constantly reinforces the basics, while offering a solid hour of work. My goal is to do this class twice a week, and limit my dojo sessions to 2 hrs a night tops for the forceable future.

Teetering towarids the irrational?

I was pondering the nature of the hip/leg pain I've been experiencing. It's not the all out blow-up that the pain normally is, and I've been trying to parse out a strategy, read the signals of my body like tea leaves--soggy tea leaves rescued from luke warm green tea--in order to decide on what I should do next in respect fitness. There was a 48 hr lull between the last workout and inflammation. It seems cruel, unfair for pain to manifest thusly, all the while keeping myself in check, this isn't even really a short term solution, more of a desperate hobby until I find an insurance plan. I am experiencing something new though, a side effect to the pain. My brain may be catching on, releasing opiates to cope with the problem.

A few hours ago I was mulling over this development. I couldn't go to practice with a high pain level, but if I could keep the pain level between 1 and 5? And I was teetering towards the irrational. I could adopt a truly monastic lifestyle: condition, diet, practice, and pain. I am teetering towards the irrational, and diving headlong into Catholicism. Yes, you wil find me on page 235 of Butler's Lives of the Saints. between Saint Anna the twice told-virgin, who scrubbed her coochie with a brillo pad to honor the angel Gabriel's impregnation of Mary, and Saint Marcus Vitus who tied a boulder to his leg to show solidarity with those unable to make it into heaven because they they died before Jesus came along.

I'd be a perfect monk. I am acquiring an altered perception that comes from the rush of opiates. Don't worry I---wait, maybe you should worry. This appeals to me. But forget about all that celibacy crap; if Girlfriend dumps me, I'm going to Vegas and gettin' me some fancy shmancy escorts.

Misery Loves

It's to fall in love with pain. It's an excuse to write about pain, to masturbate in your own shit. I have the awareness that I am writing about my pain, as I snear and crank out haymakers with a baby's skill. Fuck those Ginsbergs, those one note beats snapping like pushed farts. I see those best minds, starving hysterical naked to quote their leader. One howl is enough. I heard you the first time. There is something beyond it, but you settled. Yes, there is a something I can smell it. Help me, join me, or get out of my way. You've failed enough people. Second rate Pinheads in cheap leather.

Pain

Feeling low level pain this evening. I worked out 48 hrs ago. So is the pain REFERRED and DELAYED or was because I couldn't stop squirming in the recliner lkast night? (is there even such a phenomenon as delayed pain?) Will pull back this week, air squats in the warm up only.

Testing Limits

I did 30 airs squats in my warm up yesterday, added in some to the main workout. I was feeling bold today so I di Fran (21-15-9, thrusters and pull ups for time) in an abysmal 5 minutes. It was ugly, but I've yet to feel any pain. The way I see things if I don't feel pain by Saturday my hypothesis will be validated---the pain imminating from my hips is caused solely by the way I sit.

Sidenote: all that swimming and no lower body work has given me weak wobbly knees. Best all around exercise my ass :P

Batman and Jeet Kune Do

The follow up to R.I.P, Last Rights, arrived today. Whatever momentum was muted by the last issue has been renewed with a twisted silver age smile. I'm a bit giddy after reading it, the mark of a true comics fan. During Morrison/s run, one thing that he's gone to great pains to establish is Batman is prepared, always. There is no such thing as an unprepared Batman. The guy has put himself in isolation chambers and death trances so that he could be prepared for the day someone dopes him up with weapons grade meth and street heroin, not to sound reductive but would a death trance really prepare you for everything. Batman is human; he still makes mistakes, and he can still lose a fight. At some point there is an inconceivable, a thing that must be missed (similar to the irrational, the thing that cannot be...but is). In this respect Batman has become a true practitioner of Jeet Kune Do.

JKD eschews form for practicality, a JKD fighter is a new fighter every moment. Why? He has transcended form. HE has the ability to improvise. to conceptualize, to adapt any given situation even if he hasn't trained for that EXACT event. Batman has adopted this philosophy (whether he names it as such or not, or if Morrison names it as such or not) writ large. Doesn't have an antide for a poison on hand? He can improvise one. He didn't practice escaping death trap 542? It's ok, based on his knowledge of death traps in general, and traps 15, 972, and 400 specifically, he can create a solution. R.I.P appeared to be a large elaborate multistage death trap that began with a psychological assault long bere he was imprisoned physically, but in Last Rights part 1, maybe Batman didn't escape the death trap, at least not the death trap we thought he escaped.

One of the famous Silver Age conventions, the one I think most contemporary readers--myself included--loathe is the ole' "it's a dream!" shtick, and with good reason. It's cowardly, nothing more than cheating, an unwanted concession to the status quo, and since we are clearly in a Neo Silver Age Morrison finds it appropriate to bring the damned thing out of the closet...but with a few modifications. R.I.P was noted for blending in a lot of the goofball silver age stories, but in Last Rights we're finally understanding why (this ties in with Final Crisis). Batman is being mind raped by toadies of Darkside, a god, supposedly folks waaay out of Batman's league.

(How does one prepare for a deathtrap designed by gods, who could theoretically, design an infinite number of deathtraps within deathtraps, a Matrix trilogy of deathtraps and torture, torture and deathtraps, and what if those authoritarian anti-life praising gods wanted batman's courage, his spirit, his intellect, all the things that make Batman Batman and mass-produce for an army? Could Bruce really have prepared for that? That isn't just out of left field, that's the left side of the Negative Zone (which would make it the right side ). He may not have been able to prepare for such an ordeal specifically, but he could train himself to generate false memories in the event of a mental probe, which is exactly what I think is going on.

And this has ramifications for R.I.P. Maybe the story didn't happen the way we were told, maybe the version we got is the Apocalyptian death trap version, thus fucking up their plans for a clone army. That, or the silver age hallucinations were a stew of false memories activated in R.I.P. because the given situation was similar too some idealized trap Batman HAD prepared for., and his only way out of Final Crisis is to invoke a similar strategy.

Lessons from Dr. House

Just because you call something a dog doesn't mean it is, that's called a faulty syllogism.

A sense of impending doom

I just can't shake the feeling Girlfriend is going to leave me. We were talking on the phone. I told her I was willing to make the sacrifice; move with her to the great unknown when she finished her thesis and got a publishing job (I just can't live in the scene of the crime, there's nothing for me regardless). She did not take this well; in fact, anything other than "that's great!" would have signaled Big Trouble in Little China (why does saying that make me feel like Balky from Perfect Strangers??). She huffed and puffed and was quite confusing.

In our next conversation she said she wanted a slower transition. Same city; different doors. Nearly a year ago, the roles were reversed. She took my remark as a betrayal. It was months before she forgave me. I have not pointed out this hypocrisy. I should and will. Still, I understand why she would want the space, but it's clear to me she didn't--and doesn't?--understand why I wanted the space. It's the emotional burden. It's one thing to live with a loved one, another entirely when that loved one reminds you, through no fault of their own, of the rape and torture you suffered--together--at the hands of a couple of cruel, ignorant bastards.

Our relationship has become a game of cat and mouse, can we put an end to this before it descends into Tom and Jerry parody?

Batman R.I.P.

Since the big bang I've rediscovered superhero comics; a joy that has been a surrogate life support system, a fantasy escape from the physical pain of my legs/hips, and the spiritual agony of seperation from my practice (the martial arts) One of the stories I've been following is the much ballyhooed Batman R.I.P. It's been billed as the Batman story to end all Batman stories, complete with the most shocking revelation in the 70 years of the character. The basic premise is someone may have spent a good ten years preparing to destroy Batman, a foe that Batman doesn't know, a being who has studied Bruce Wayne with fanboy thuroughness; a foe Batman can't prepare for in any conventional way; and the antagonist is a foe who cannot be prepared for. This villian, goes by the moniker Dr. Simon Hurt, but claims to be Thomas Wayne, Bruce's father.

I loved this story, but it is best appreciated in a larger context; it is the fourth story arc from writer Grant Morrison, who has devoted significant time and energy to setting all the pieces in their propper place. There's just one problem There is no revelation!! WTF gives??? DC Comics has taken some serious marketing liberties in the last few months with Mr. Batman. First, DC Comics made it seem like the Kevin Smith penned Cacophany, would occur in the wake of R.I.P; it did not. THis killed my interest in the story. I am not a huge fan of Kevin Smith, New Jersey Film god, but I've always enjoyed his work in superhero comics (I think as an artist his best work is in the 4 color world). Then this b.s. happens with R.I.P itself. I love Morrison's work as a whole, so I'm a bit puzzled by this decision especially given the marketting involved, a machine he helped fuel. There is still a chance to fix this, either in the Last Rights follow up or in the pages of Final Crisis (both written by G.M.) .

If not, despite the quality of the story, instead of being the most shocking revelation in the last 70 years, this could be the biggest FU in the history of the medium, bigger even than Spiderman's Clone Wars saga (horrible flashbacks involving Spidercide).

Delay that Order

MRI now officially scheduled for next thursday, Dec. 11.

Countdown

I have an MRI tentatively scheduled for thursday morning. My father pulled a few strings.

The Story so far and abbreviated....

It was The Crow It was James O'Barr. Laughing Clowns from the Blackest ID The Joker's disciples a Dead Man's Hand of gangsta minstrelsy swinging guns like cocks swinging cocks like soft gummi worms It was the Crow It was James O'Barr there was violence rape torture They were the Laughing Clowns I became the sad clown and she became Thomas the Doubter Shock Shock Shock seperation then anxiety then more seperation and anxiety I left with the shame of infection I wanted to hit her wanted to make her stop needing me just enough that I could breath My wounds were psychic She had a name for her pain; it was rape I had no name so it named me I was the object of the object, an appendage of the victim cast off in a bathtub dusted with kitty litter and bath rain He can destroy a thing controls a thing but you can't destroy or control without the name so I wandered into a dojo and I did not leave

I trained for over a year only to be smited by a spiteful body I'm grounded by a birth defect a hip defect and I'm waiting for an MRI and that brings us here, but if I don't start reclaiming the things I CAN name it will be nothing, that's the story so far without nuiance without all the little violent melodramas that come with life