Monday, March 13, 2017

Hwarang

It all started with these tasteless American television shows, like The Master, movies like The Karate Kid.  When I was maybe seven.  I wanted to take Karate.  I don't remember the timeline well, these memories just fragments, scattered out there in my past, somewhere.  I can kind of make sense of them enough to guess how old I was.

Something-Ryu Karate.  Tiny little school in Syracuse.  I only took it for a few months, got to yellow and then orange belt and then fizzled.  It was expensive.  I was feeling tired a lot, anyhow.. but I've practiced it sporadically ever since.  Well, sorta.  Not like regularly or anything.  Mostly I just watched a lot of martial arts movies.  Got pretty good at Tekken.

I wish there were video of my last belt test.  I was really at my best.  The head instructor complimented me for the first time ever.  Then a few weeks later, I never said good-bye.  I couldn't find the right time, it felt awkward, so I just left.  Maybe he knows I was a bit.. odd ..and just thought, "ah fuck it, whatever."  Probably not, though.



I tried to find a new school in Chicago.  I did, for a while.  A cheap knockoff MMA school, but it was a short walk away.. it was better than nothing.  I got to grapple and spar, and that's the most important thing.  It wasn't enough to keep me interested, though.  The place had the feel of being thrown together, hiring whoever they could find.  I stopped going after about two months, despite owing them for a year.

I got a heavy bag shortly after moving to Vermont, but didn't really touch it for a while.  Lately I've been spending at least few minutes on it almost every day.  Still pathetic, but getting better.

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