Listening to: Incubus - Megalomaniac
Feeling: bruised
A bright, crisp, clear, cold winter's sun shines this morning on the aching collection of bruises, bones and mortality which I find myself clothed in. In a perverse, S&M kind of way, it is exceptionally invigorating, and for the first time on a few weeks I know for sure that I am alive; on a more shallow level, closer to the surface, it merely hurts quite a lot.
Last night, we took my Monday karate class to a new and particularly brutal level. Some of our guys raised concerns - rightly so - that they would not be able to defend themselves adequately on account of not ever being in a big fight before and not quite knowing what to expect. So some of the older and more senior guys and I had a bit of a pow-wow and decided we would turn my Monday class into a pit of androgen-fueled ferocity and introduce a bit of full-contact activity in a knock-yo'-punk-ass-down kind of way.
For 75 minutes, watching 9 guys climb into each other on two mats; one for grappling and submission, the other for knockdown sparring, with no padding, only boxing gloves... It was vicious.
It was violent.
It was terrifying,
But man, was it ever beautiful, seeing the fruits of our labour over the last few years - and the range is between 11 months in our most junior student's case; and a full decade in my own.
I was impressed by the grit and determination in a lot of our kids - and I mean kids as guys from 16 to 20 - and in my opinion, most of those kids could do with a swift knock upside the head, just to put them on the right path. I was thrilled by the sheer will they showed to win, even though our senior guys were not giving in, and in all cases, the senior guys emerged victorious. I was particularly heartened by the younger guys' eagerness to get back in there and try again with a different senior, even though they were fatigued and sore. While we did not advocate or allow any brawling per se, you'd be amazed at how much tap the body takes in two minutes of grappling. I'm not sure that physically beating one another to pulp would have been any more painful or draining than what we were doing.
And the adrenaline... fuck me backwards with a broomstick. Who needs cocaine or anything else when you have adrenaline??
-D-
I think he also sprained my wrist.
Or, you know, that whole dead and on fire thing sounded rather fun.
That or my basement is deep enough that the screams can't be heard at sea-level.
And I hear you about the smileys. Those things cause nightmares and spastic twitching.
You can read this diary if you want, it's just full of dramatic, sappy goodness.
And I'll add you to [stuckinanightmare], although I don't write in it anymore. It's the hiding thing. But you can read about my trip on there and such. And you can find my LiveJournal there too.
Sorry I didn't add you before. I do read this sometimes, because you're cool like that.
AdamQadman
Now, as for the rest, how much do you need?
I'll make some calls to my connections at the zoo's and wild-life preserves and see what they can scratch up.