Wednesday, August 27

the thing about evel

is that you know what's coming.

not that it makes it any counter successful, of course.

but at least you know. just ask luke77 (very unlike luke 42).

(but you know, and it is always out there in the open. that's just the game. not cheating exactly. as much is allowed to be taken as is expected to be endured.

"it's all in the game, you know..." i told a guy last year. this was well after we were toe-to-toe on the field. i had done something aggressive in response to something reckless.

"i don't want to see this type of game either you know..." i explained this year. this was well after the professional foul administered. i had done nothing and wasn't in the play.

"if you go in there, i have to go in there..." i explained as the pseudo-fight broke out and gravity pulled us closer. we both knew nothing serious would happen, but that if it did... well... we'd not be conversing with words.

those moments unfolded so slowly in my mind, so quickly in reality
strange i don't relive the ones that seemed too fast to comprehend

"well, i cut upfield and i saw where he was, and i knew that if i put my hand on the ground and changed the angle of my hips that he would bite and then i knew that he'd recover hard so i had to take one more half-step to shake him and then accelerate. i then knew where he was, so i threw the low IO to whomever our guy was in that lane."

"i had made a dumb cut, on purpose, because i knew he would attack on my bad position in the lane aggressively. he took two steps and i attacked the space he left and made eye contact with the thrower who knew where to put the disc to that i'd get the OI huck i was watching develop with whomever on our team was cutting so quickly downfield to the big green space"

"i faked that throw with my eyes because i figured out what he thought he was seeing me watching. that girl was distracting me.")

dhu (not dho) once told me that "there is a velocity at which you can throw through any open space"
monkeyboy showed me (and bones told me) that "there is releasepoint+pathway from your current position to the receiver you want that is unblocked"

if you watch where the skinny kid with the visor or the old man with the sneakers jump from, you'll learn something. not that you'll be able to do it.
if you ask wtk9 or #5, the mordecai brown grip is the way to go. "the fastest man in ultimate" uses 2 fewer. not that you'll want to keep doing it.
if you watch the angles the degenerate non-mexico road-tripper takes on the field or the angles that jtf7 throws the disc at, you'll understand something new about the game. not that it'll make the game easier for you-- it might do the opposite.
if you ever got skied by either the hockey-fighting former soccer star or "the guy no one wants to play 500 with at fools fest" you'd know what the phrase "man ultimate" means.

from the people who brought you
"sliming mark, crouching t-rex"

"mamma lo and '"the fuck"' hate the world"

"crabfed thugs"


"club vegas 09: gfy, marvin."
"the linden cogens and the field as seen through the eyes of a straw looking for sharks"
"Wow... Look at the size of that bird!"
"Wait... Where's Spojies?"
"Wait... Who's Spojies?"
"Well... A dead horse, mostly."

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Friday, August 8

workout thoughts


spurts, fits, starts. pushes through to the close, finish, end.

carries you on against the nothing when it comes to envelop the nothing your mind makes something. courses through your you, spills out to infect others. just another communicable disease.

this version, like some others i imagine, has both positive and negative attributes. a dedication to something gives life the feeling of purpose. simultaneously it narrows the focus from the wider view of beauty in life. consumed by something, we lose sight of other somethings made out of other nothings.
a lost no one in a battle against nothing but those who we cast as villains, cheaters, louts. hooligans. but who and how are we cast through their minds/eyes? different, better(hell...)worse?

passion pushes me through doubt in headheartmindsoul. each danger differs in intensity and inevitable invocation. each precipice provides panic at delta-ed depths.

i see my path my way in front of me, to the side of me all around me. my goals that if reached would satisfy my soul. but the path on all sides by the iniquities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men.

dramatic? de rigeur.

but our lives are all at once comedy, tragedy, morality play, drama and all else. that is the mark of art in some sense. the echo of grand reaction to the tiny reactions we have in our every last day. and so the epics of sport and war and their broken/faulty/whichever isomorphism echo in my head when i start, fight and finish my training and battles. i cast myself in the light of a hero of old. etched in stone, remembered in memories long after he passes.

a champion
a hero
a path to

sisyphusian as all goals of mortal flesh.
only arrived after end in death
and only then through luck
and a memory in the moment
mindful of the weight lifted
through the debt paid.

a hero.
a nothing.
a hero needs nothing.
a nothing needs a hero.

hope, in a fashion.

stretched beyond belief
fruit beyond grasp
yet in the trying
lies the meaning.

give everything for nothing
all i ask is all you have
all you have is all you give
give everything for nothing
give nothing for everything
the meaning of each is yours
and yours alone.

it's your game the rules
are your own win or lose

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