Today starts the year of the dog in the Chinese calendar. Auspicious year indeed. Get some orchids for yourself.
Wtf?! I understand martial artists attraction to fire arms. Disagree, but understand. I can imagine that high capacity may be fun for these people. But can’t understand how they wouldn’t trade more safety for kids against their little shooting thrill. But posting these photos right after a school shooting, @bulletvalentina ?!? C’mon?! You must be … Continue reading What?!
Martial artists, they call us. For a reason. Who, other than artists pour their hearts on pointless passions under risks ordinary people will never understand? Just because they have to express themselves that way. We work on our craft, our mind, then we go perform. We create, in front of everyone, something different, every time. … Continue reading Artists of Fist
(does this version work or this one here is better?) EVERY WARRIOR WISHES FOR A GLORIOUS, OR AT LEAST WORTHY END. For me, if it was over I’d be content. When the first sting stroke, sharp and deep, through my temple and into my soul, I knew what was coming. The stabbing, the venom, the … Continue reading The Worst of the Headaches (v2)
The good thing about being me is there aren't photos floating around the Internet. Also the bad part, cause I keep having to describe myself to those who ask. Not the creepy ones though. I liked my hair. Easy. Didn't cover my eyes during the fights, could be grabbed at night, and tied back for … Continue reading Not me, but close
My parents died young, I hoped that was my turn. When the first sting stroke, sharp and deep through my temple and into my soul, I knew what was coming. The ghost stingers, the venom. Piercing through the side of my skull, pouring the poison inside. The dismaying pain, the stab and squeeze, stab and … Continue reading Suicidal Headache
Delightful book on philosophy, martial arts and the beauty of violence. Worth the read for anyone into fighting.
Almost midnight and the bell rings. A giant cold steak on my face, an ice pack on the shoulder and I wish there was something for the crushed pride. Not because of the fight I lost, only athletes care about stupid records. I’m no athlete, I am a fighter. Broken because I tried to call George. Shouldn’t have. Now … Continue reading Dragon’s Gate
In my mind, it’s always present. One flash inside the other, never past, never future, forever happening. Right “now,” I am twelve. A sound: water nearby. The scent of leaves, bamboo, China. Among the woods, a broad, clear circle on the floor invites me in. The sacred ground where we train. Although this time, there's more. He watches us. Two arms point out; a third, a foot lower, aims at me; a single leg bends forward, like a cat stance. I return the look, in respect. The wooden man, icon of … Continue reading The Wooden Man