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Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Bridges and Staves

Steel SerenityThe Renaissance Festival season is drawing to a close, and with it my involvement in Steel Serenity.

Steel Serenity has been going for seven years now, and is the longest-lived fight troupe on the Ren-Fest circuit I have ever heard of.  Times change, tempers flare, and people come and go.  It’s been a good run, my time with them is done.  They're a very social group, but though it was not quite the adventure in weapons training I had hoped for, I did learn.  And as long as I am learning, I’m generally happy.

Principally, I learned quarterstaff.  I picked it up fairly quickly, I think, though I’ve far from mastered it.  It is a simple and highly versatile weapon, and I recommend it to anyone learning any hand-to-hand style.  It certainly helped my karate, and my admittedly limited understanding of Wing Chun Kung Fu. What little I do know about Wing Chun comes from a brief exposure to Jeet Kune Do and some talks with a Wing Chun student, so if I make errors herein I take full blame.

When holding the quarterstaff for close combat, one’s hands divide the staff into equal thirds.  All attacks are directed against the centerline, or the seven spinal chakra, and thus the staff is held vertically when in a ready position.  In Wing Chun, the body is divided into the Three “gates” – upper, middle, and lower – and the fists are in front over the centerline.  Same principle, just a different application.  The conversion was easy enough, at least as far as my limited studies went.

Different stance, though – staff footwork is more like karate, one foot forward, knees bent, weight on the balls of your feet.  Wing Chun meanwhile “hugs the goat,” something like horse stance, but with the legs closer together and somewhat pidgin-toed.  To attack in staff (or most any weapon), you must get into your opponent’s guard.  Sometimes you get lucky, but a lot of the time (especially with a long weapon) you end up having to seize control of the fight one inch of your opponent’s guard at a time.  With a rapier, a simple parry-riposte might do.  And since rapier duels historically took place in narrow alleys, the footwork is different as well.  But with staff it’s best to be able to work your way completely into your enemy’s space, hampering him while keeping your freedom of movement open.  I understand this to be called Building a Bridge in Wing Chun. 

Interesting that Chinese unarmed combat prepared me so well for European staff.  Then again, Shotokan Karate helped both my Shorinji Goju and my fencing, because of the work the sensei there put into my stances.  The eight principle directions of attack are also the same throughout sword, staff, or empty hand.

It all blends.  I could go on forever.  It all gloriously, gloriously blends.

I was teaching someone how to maintain control of their defense with long sword, and when I found out he had a background in Goju Ryu, it became much easier.  The footwork is different, because European sword doesn’t use much kicking, so the emphasis is more on speed and less on versatility.  But though it’s a different philosophy of movement, the principle is the same.

However much Steel Serenity turned out not to be what I was looking for, I will miss working out with them, learning more on staff and sword.  But for years, there has been a gentleman researching and reconstructing Fiorria De Libre, the Flower of Liberty.  It’s an unarmed fighting style designed to supplement swordfighting techniques, dating back to Renaissance Italy.  I’ve been exposed to a few of its principles and they’ve helped my understanding of the Art already.  Occasionally, the fellow doing the research holds workshops.  It costs quite a bit, but if I can attend one I will.

A little while after I started on European staff, I picked up a pamphlet on staff fighting.  It showed a step-by-step for a kata I’d never seen before, in Chinese Whirling Staff Technique. 

I’ll get back to you on that.

Tamam Shud,
--Coyote

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Vanish

the red silk tatters whip around the skin I used to know
you stand illumined by the lightning’s fire
the silhouette does not betray which way you go
are you walking towards me or away
from the shadows I can hear the insects as I walk
mocking me from safely out of reach
the rainfall burns me as it falls from tattered sky
I call to you my voice lost in the storm

wait

jagged memories loom overhead and cut our feet
our blood mixes with the mud and shale
the sky churns angrily the storm encircles us
and watches with its one all-seeing eye
and as the world breaks up and crumbles into dust
devoured by water wind and rain
just as the planets fall you turn to me at last
I reach out to you my fingers curl through smoke

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Differing Arts

This is a time of deep consideration.

Last night my BFF and writing partner, Lauren, took me aside and we talked about the art of blogging. Her protests to the contrary side, she’s always been a polite and considerate person and an excellent friend. Last night was no exception. We talked about my intent towards the blog itself, my intended audience, and the style and approach I was using.

Now, it can be very difficult for me to listen to criticism. Especially when I think I’m doing a stellar job at something. And last night I was feeling pretty damn good about the whole writing situation, including the blogging. I’d just spent the last few hours talking to a fellow about Heinlein, and having the O4S series compared favorably to the works of Frank Herbert. Which, for those of you who don’t know, is rather like having your dancing compared to Fred Astaire. No doubt about it, I was a man doing well.

However, sometimes one encounters one of those “look up, look down, meet Mister Frying Pan” moments. And this was to be one of those times. And such times bear careful consideration.

Bless her, she was courteous, analytical, and precise. She gave me data. It was a damn fine conversation. Difficult, of course. I am a narcissistic swine, and standing on my ego enough to properly listen to criticism takes effort. But it was well worth it.

Ironically, the most telling moment for me was when Patrick piped up and said that he hadn’t even finished the entry he’d started, because of “TLDR”: Too Long Didn’t Read.

Jesus, I thought. They have an acronym for that? I know different subcultures have their own lingo, but, fuck, man! They couldn’t even be bothered to say “It was too long?” Or, “It was too wordy?” They couldn’t manage more than the first letters, eh? And it’s not even an acronym of a complete sentence, f’Gawd’s sake!

Visions assailed my tiny mind of the Hulk at a word processor, frowning at the screen, and Dr. Banner coming up quietly behind him.

“Well, Hulk,” quoth the Doctor, “What did you think?”

“Too long,” the behemoth replied. “Didn’t read.”

Patiently, Dr. Banner nodded. “Well, perhaps you should let them know that.”

“Hmm.” The Hulk considered this. Frowning in concentration, he carefully started to prod the keyboard.

“Do you know how to spell ‘too long—‘”

“Puny Banner should shut up now.” Carefully pushing the keys with one massive digit. “Tee . . .” The frown deepened. “Uh, ell . . . dee . . .” There was an injured bleep as several keys got mashed at once. “AAAARGH! HULK SMASH!”

Once Manhattan was safely stompled into a fine gritty paste, I pondered the matter. TLDR. Gad. The brain recoils. Who the fuck says TLDR? That’s like calling Chun Wong ‘Mr. W.” for short.

But that’s the trick, isn't it. It isn’t said. It isn’t even written. It’s typed. And that makes the difference.

I don’t listen to Mozart the same way I listen to Beethoven, or to Pete Seeger the same way I listen to the Dead Kennedys. I don’t view Picasso the same way I do Rembrandt. I don’t read Hunter Thompson like Lewis Carroll – though he’s similar in some ways to Mark Twain. Why, therefore, would it be logical to write a blog the same way I would write a written journal?

Bless you, dormouse.

So, I have the opportunity to develop a new skill in my writing. Always a good thing, learning. And, I get to expand my understanding of a cultural phenomenon and medium of communication and art. Which is pretty damn exciting.

After dinner (made of wonderful burritos with homemade tortillas), we watched Gosford Park and discussed the characters and the various plot twists therein. Then I went home, terrorized my Magnificent Offspring, and finally crashed.

Today, I was mentioning the conversation to my friends Kat and Chris, who have known me lo these many years. Before I even finished, Chris was nodding.

"You were at Maximum Verbosity," he said.

It is, it seems, a fair cop.

--Coyote.