CNAT

I’d say I just got back, but it’s not true. I got back a few hours ago, but I took a shower and a lengthy nap. Tomorrow I will write up a detailed post, once I go through all my notes. In the meantime, take a look at that image above. That was the view out my front door every morning. I woke up and looked at that, and knew my day was going to filled with swordplay in that. Hell of a good weekend.

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So you want to be a champion…

Way back in the day I was at trade school learning to be a welder. My friend was also there doing some crazy technical thing that eventually caused him to be able to explain in great detail what happens when a foot thick piece of steel instantly evaporates in front of you…anyway. We started to hit the gym and explore the joys of powerlifting. Powerlifting is the brutal thug of the weightlifting world. We loved it. Pick up a heavy weight, put it down. Watch the bodybuilders get all self-conscious about how much weight you are squatting, and then scurry off and do another set of bicep curls. So much fun. The gym had a big, heavy leather punching bag. Since our real forte was martial arts, we put it to good use between sets. We’d hit the bag hard, make it shake and bounce, big deep booming hits. Felt…

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Busier night than expected

And just no time to finish the blog post I’d intended to write. Ah well, a good one for tomorrow, then. I’m off this weekend for Cascadia North. I recall last year that there was a computer with very slow internet access there. If that’s true, I will try a little blogging from the site, with pictures and maybe video if I feel energetic. Otherwise expect a write-up when I get back. Currently reading a book on ideokinesis. I love it when you start working on a really cool idea, and then find out a bunch of other people have already been there and done that, and left a nice easy trail for you to follow. Even more fun when you realize they missed all the good stuff. Mwahaha! Right, now I need coffee and sleep, except I have to bike 15km home. Ugh. Here I go…

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Kicking ass! Or not.

I had to think a bit tonight, have I ever kicked anyone’s ass? I really don’t think I have. I know I don’t want to, ever. I use the phrase from time to time, but it’s mostly because I think it’s a phrase people will understand. There isn’t a lot of reality to it. I’ve never won a tournament in my life, but I have a big string of second-places. You might think that means I kicked a lot of other people’s asses to get there, but…no, not really. Tournament sword fighting always feels a bit lucky to me. It’s always a gamble. I enjoy formulating strategies, and I’m quite good at it. If I tell a student how to beat another fighter, and they do what I say? They will win, I guarantee it. But I know it’s a gamble. When I see a fighter repeating a pattern, or…

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44 and the Rota Fortunae

I glanced at my horoscope today, and read the “If today is your birthday” part, and lo and behold, the oracle spoke: …You value your personal integrity, which is why you like to reveal society in its most honest likeness as well. You are observant and not afraid to shock, but you buffer the raw truth with humour to make it palatable. Personally, you are emotionally open. In the year ahead, something you’ve been involved with for about nine years will diminish or end to make room for something new. Which is about a damned fine summation of me as I’ve ever seen. I was dismissive of my school guidance counsellors when their tests came back and recommended a career for me in “Communications.” Actually, I was insulted. Communications was the name of the English class for kids that were failing English. I knew better. I was going to be…

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The problem with drills

It’s fun, but also a little sad to beat up a technically superior fighter. A few years ago a good friend of mine, Chris Moone, and I were talking fencing shop with another friend. Chris and I were both very experienced fighters and competitors. Our friend had an absolutely solid technical background, and some tournament fighting experience…not a lot, though. Like all good fencing conversations, ours was with steel. We’d started with slow work. For whatever reason, Chris and I had decided to give our mutual friend some pointers on his fighting style. It wasn’t going well. Everytime we’d suggest something, our friend would disagree with us. The things we were suggesting were coming from our body of experience. The counter arguments our friend was using came from his background of solid technical drills and theoretical knowledge of Capo Ferro. He was right in every suggestion he made. We would…

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