Revelations to no one but me.

Spent a little while this morning watching video of myself sparring with Jordan last …Summer? Wow..that long ago? Tempus fugit, not just for other people. I’ve been talking with people lately about the development of style, personalization vs strict form, and things like that. It’s always interesting to look at yourself fighting and see if what you believe about yourself is true. It rarely is, for anybody. That’s why the best in the world pay for coaches. It brings out the whimsy in me when I think about all the moderate fighters who think they are above instruction, when the very best depend on it constantly. My style of fighting with a rapier is based on what I learned so many years ago in unarmed combat: I am smaller than everyone else, and weaker. I am physically inferior, and will never get around to spending as much time training as…

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Counting the Cost

It’s a kind of grey day out. Standard Vancouver. We had blue skies peeking through the clouds yesterday, and today I can see a hint of orange-pink in the clouds that tells me the sun hides on the other side. Living in Vancouver means accepting the grey for at least nine months out of twelve. It’s a wet drudgery that can break your spirit, but if you give it enough time you can learn to see the beauty in it. The city is green, and you learn to see every possible shade of green. It’s a vibrancy that is lost in every other season but the wet one. And when the skies do clear, or when the clouds lift high enough, the mountains dominate. They rise over the city and watch over everyone, sometimes with snow-capped peaks, sometimes with veils of mist. Craggy peaks and mysterious valleys…it’s hard not to…

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Boobs, boobs, and…boobs!

I can’t wait to see the hits that title produces. The google search terms that land people on this page are just a smidge ridiculous. “Boobs” I can sort of see, since one post had that title. But “Boob punch?” “Boob wrestle?” I suppose these could be women looking for training advice.  But who the hell searches for “naked woman boobs” and then clicks on a website listed as BoxWrestleFence? Well…I suppose this first paragraph is now SEO magic. I’d apologize to all the disgruntled young men that have now landed on this page by “accident,” but bluntly…to hell with you little sexist bastards. I’ve written before about how I grew up as a sexist little twerp, and had it beaten out of me. I’m not the only one to have grown and changed. It only takes one generation for huge change to take place. I grew up in a…

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Caveman Antics

Friday night I was still feeling sniffy and snorty, so we packed off to Academie Duello’s Fight Night with just the camera. It wasn’t as busy and active a night as last time, but there was a good collection of friends. I took a bunch of photos, and chatted. It’s funny how the best of intentions can be corrupted out from under you. Standing in a room full of swords, how can you not pick one up and start swinging it around? And when a student asks a question, how can you not answer? And demonstrate. And so the night finishes with some slow-ish speed stick sparring. And now I’m drenched in sweat, so I need a beer. Or three. So still sick today, for some reason. But I’m opting to take the other route to health now. I figure the illness has assumed the form of micro-gnomes hiding in…

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A History of T-shirts and Violence

This blog was supposed to an add-on to the boxwrestlefence website…which was meant to be a t-shirt shop for the WMA community. We spent a great weekend drinking wine and brainstorming. I wrote up a horde of slogans and sayings, and Courtney started playing with fonts and putting together some rough layouts. We wanted to have a webfront shop that catered just to our fellow sword people, and gave them great t-shirts to wear. We put up a few sample shirts, nine designs for men, and ten for women. We thought we’d see how sales would go for the first bunch, and then put the rest up. If sales were good, we’d start to go for bolder full-shirt designs from other shirt printers. We’ve only sold a few t-shirts through our shop, but the blog has taken off. Weirdly, we’ve sold lots of the “Hit like a girl” shirts via…

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Certification avec la Fouetté Rond de Jambe en Tournant

So I took a brief tour of the various places on the net, to see what sort of conversations were happening in regards to this whole certification issue. What I saw really made me wonder about the wisdom of letting people vote. Dear WMA world…what the hell is wrong with you?!? Intellectual pomposity is no way to live your life.  I think I’ll just tweak my BIND/DNS a little. I should be able to write an intelligent rule that redirects any attempt to connect to a forum or the website for any existing WMA organization, to somepalce safer for me to look at. Something with pictures of kittens. Or monkeys with switchblades. Soothing, relaxing images. I think I will now ignore the growing number of hits on my blog, and pretend I am talking to a some close friends who speak my language. Otherwise, I’m going to continue to write…

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