Grief Good

The Holidaze, looming portentously over us whether we ready for 'em or not, brings thoughts - at least, for moi - of good ol' Charlie Brown. No, not that seemingly ubiquitous pathetic tree because, really, it was never that inspiring. And, for that matter, neither was Linus' pedagogical preening. So the whole embrace-simplicity and what-not disguised as a rally-cry sermon (literally) 'round the isn't-it-ugly/isn't-it-cute tree isn't artistic, it's just sad. Personally, I've always preferred Chuck's quiet moments on the bridge, his sadistic visitations to Lucy Van Pelt's "The Doctor is In" makeshift booth, or his manic soliloquies on the pitcher's mound. My holiday associations simply involve the timing: the spinning glow of the "CBS Special" marquee followed by the bliss of The Vince Guaraldi Trio's sounds queuing in Christmas or, in the very least, Christmas vacation. The holidays can be serene, this time can be warm. In this time of seeming obligatory materialistic reciprocity, the key is try to participate the least as humanly possible.

"That's a terrible feeling to have the need of having the feeling of having." ~Good 'ol Charlie Brown

When I grow up, I aspire to be Ido Portal.

Move Sucka Move

[part of the convo at Bodytribe]

I think there’s a morbid tendency towards “results” in our culture - ignoring the journey, substantiveness, and what-have-you. Hence, magic pills & beans in the form of neon lights, nip, tucks, elixirs, and bells-&-whistles. The pendulum swings between hedonistic physicality and intellectual narcissism: nary a healthy homeostasis. And the divorce between mindfulness and movement is evident in persons who are book-smart sans common sense, or meat-head sans erudition. I often croon that mid-life crises are in fact the first instances of existential thoughts for most people - maligned interpretation and discomfiture of actual introspection, of mindful effort mirrored in movement. Perhaps, I’m incorrect and people have these thoughts all along but drown them until (or if) it reaches a critical mass. It truly is a fear of freedom, of responsibility. But it can also be disfigured dogma, a result-only-oriented perspective limiting and stifling in its scope where “you can’t buy what you want because it’s free.”

My Effortless Brilliance

I often fondly reminisce "glory days" a few minutes after the triumphalist self congratulatory moment. Needless to say, I'm not above celebratory ego stroking in the smallest of life's mundanities. Let's face it, you take life's pleasures where you can find it and often it's generated in the lightest of whispers and the briefest of moments - far removed from the cacophony of civilization's fatuous demands. That's not to say, for example, I don't ache with laughter at good bad movies because that's precisely where those moments lie - among friends or even strangers, when there is no distance between you, however fleeting. Ultimately, the voice you most commonly hear is your own. And in those lengthy Apollonian ("know thyself") examinations there must be consolation in the solemnity of solitude.

He Who Walks Behind the Rows

Peering deeply into your cell phone when encountering awkward or idle moments during societal norms (walking, lunching, meeting, what-not) has replaced fiddling with the fictitious tape deck at the stop light whilst avoiding the steely gaze of the-children-of-the-corn in the rear-facing rumble seat of the car in front of you.

Every Day is the Day

Cable Squat Row (do the rack and then add-on) & Plyo Push Up - 4 sets of 6-8 reps.

No-leg Body Row & Up and Over Push Up (medicine ball) - 4 sets of as many as you can muster.

One arm barbell snatch & Box Drop push ups - 4 sets of 1 & 5 reps (respectively).

Monkey Bars across the cable cage (to and fro) & Lateral Kick push ups - 3-4 sets of as many as you can muster.

Tada.

Psychotic Reactions and Carburetor Dung

...an ultrafknbd review.

Vainglories

There was a point in our culture when externalities surpassed actual health and strength as a pursuit - in turn becoming a "concern" and simultaneously a lofty (read, lucrative) goal. From there, the onslaught (the one-trick-pony fitness industry fueled by "nutritionism" and skin-deep imagery) to the benighted proletariat has been that of snake oil. Shielded from the truth only to be replaced with platitudes: we want to have our proverbial cake (without consequence) and workout too (with only consequence). Chip Conrad's Lift With Your Head is a return to simplicity that places responsibility squarely at our feet - "Although not easy, effort and discipline are free."

If you wish for look-at-'em physiques, seek out plastic surgery. If your pursuit is vainglorious, seek out the machinations modernity has to offer. The caveat of such endeavors: contorted conflation with movement, with strength. The pursuit of physicality, of health, of strength is freedom from the chains of "factory gyms" and superfluous pining for external conceit. Conrad channels Jello Biafra: "Real freedom scares you. Because it means responsibility." Likewise of physicality, of health, of strength.

Lift With Your Head describes movement (though not exclusively) not for the-weak-of-heart - Olympic and "old school" lifts designed to challenge the body, mind, and the enamored stasis of modern gyms and gym-going - entailing freedom (and responsibility) which can be equally intimidating as it is liberating.

Krishnamurti drives me to contemplation; Zinn, informed revolt; Conrad, movement - for movement's sake.