Trickster

Yesterday I tried tricking. I met up with two friends at a gymnastics facility where they both work, and I'm glad we had mats to practice on because it's been a while since I've done any flips. After a couple of tumbles I got reacquainted with my old tricks. Now I'm looking to learn some new ones, so next time I'll start to try the corkscrew, butterfly twist, and double leg.

What I like most about tricking, more than any one move, is when guys flow things together and emphasize the capoeira and break dancing influences. Tricking uses elements from a bunch of styles that I like, so I'm excited to practice some more.

Sri Krishna

I like kids, but they're exhausting to deal with in large groups. So hard to impose order. The only time I could calm them down was when I taught kung fu for an after-school program at an elementary school. It must have been all those cool moves they thought I could do.

The classes were part of the instructor program I did at my kung fu school. I didn't get paid, since the head instructor insisted that we volunteer, but I was in 12th grade and got to leave the high school early twice a week so I didn't mind. Besides, it felt good to volunteer.

I didn't think much of it when I mentioned the classes to an older instructor who taught tai chi. He said, "You don't get paid?" I shook my head yes. He smiled. "Well, somebody's getting the money." Even then, I tried not to think about it too much. My goal was to be more spiritual and rise above material worries.

There's a passage in the *Bhagavad-Gita, my new bathroom read, that stuck with me the other day. Sri Krishna tells Arjuna:

"You have the right to work, but for the work's sake only. You have no right to the fruits of work. Desire for the fruits of work must never be your motive in working. Never give way to laziness, either."

I know it's not an original idea, but damn if most religions don't make excellent tools for political power. All this talk of duty and surrender of one's ego - devotion to a greater good beyond the individual and this world; If I were a greedy dictator I'd love this stuff. Though I doubt it'd work on little kids.


* Translated by Swami Prabhavananda & Christopher Isherwood; Barnes & Noble, 1995. The quote is from page 13.

Metal: Adamantium and Nu

I used to pretend to suit up as Wolverine during youth soccer games. First boots, then gloves, and finally the mask. Then I'd run at the incoming offensive attack and swing my arms out and down to imagine those adamantium claws shooting out. My memory of this, now, alternates between my point of view as my eight-year-old self and that of someone on the sideline, confused or amused by this kid putting on imaginary boots and mask, then sprinting forward with all seriousness.

Sort of embarrassing, but I was young and in love with X-Men. Less forgivable, or just more embarrassing, was my affair with Nu Metal. Two things recently brought this back to mind: 1) This incredible Map of Metal - I sacrificed two hours at that altar - and 2) Part 9 of the AV Club's series Whatever Happened to Alternative Nation? The writer despises Korn and Limp Bizkit; I was totally into them.

Still, I had some good influences in those darker days*. Skate videos and magazines, my primary cultural influence at the time, kept me on track with hip hop and punk. The two dominant cassettes in my walkman were Wu Tang's Forever* and a mix tape of Misfits and Dead Kennedys that a friend made me. That same friend once said to me, when I was deepest into Korn, that as the singer of my once-punk band, I shouldn't try to sound like Jonathan Davis.

I now see his advice as an informal intervention, and he did it with kindness and tact that transcended our early-teen maturity. He said I should try to stick with my own style. He put it in a way that encouraged me, especially since I looked up to him as a musician. I think he even went so far as to somewhat praise Jonathan Davis' voice, though I knew at the time that he didn't like it or that music one bit. But friends don't let friends try to sing like Jonathan Davis.




* Darkest Days is the name of the Stabbing Westward album I bought, featuring the single "Save Yourself", after I heard them on the Spawn soundtrack - my nu metal gateway drug and possible evidence that comic books encouraged me to do many silly things.

* Forever was a double-cassette, so technically that makes three dominant tapes in my rotation.

Grendel

"All order, I've come to understand, is theoretical, unreal - a harmless, sensible, smiling mask men slide between the two great, dark realities, the self and the world - two snake-pits.

This comes near the end of John Gardner's Grendel. Reviews of the book claim that it will enter the canon of high school English classes, among Lord of the Flies and The Catcher in the Rye. And I can see how Grendel's reflection on order fits in with Ralph and Holden.

It does not, however, fit in with the prominent "Out of chaos comes order" banner stapled to the bulletin board in my 9th grade English classroom. The teacher told us that it came from the ancient Greeks. It has stayed with me, since then, as I have wrestled with this perennial idea.

Chaos vs. order is one of many questions that frustrates Grendel while he seeks meaning as a self-conscious creature - not the mechanical evil that Beowulf portrays. He eventually finds that his relationship with the humans, the Danes, defines them both. And in the end, he can't resist the urge to raid the mead hall where Beowulf waits.

Though 1,200 years apart, the reality of the two stories, Grendel and Beowulf, is the same. All order and chaos come from narration - perception - be it Ancient Greek, Middle Ages Anglo-Saxon, or Post-Modern American.

The Card Shop (Pt. 2)

I sat at the table with two fellow fifth-graders and one adult player who also helped part-time at the card shop. He summoned a Shivan dragon.

"Eric, take the kids into the other room and close the door." The owner looked out the window, across the street, as he said this. I then remembered my older sister talking about a big fight between rival groups at the high school: the freaks vs the gangsters.

High schoolers were the ones who ripped the metal grates off the radiators when they walked through the halls in our school. Some had spikes, others had baggy clothes, and they all had mean looks. We picked up our cards and went into the side room. Once Eric closed the door, I could hear a bunch of high schoolers enter the shop.

"Hello Gordon. Here to buy something?"
"Eh."
"If you're not gonna buy something, you need to go."
"Whatever."
"Now, I don't want anything going on across the street coming into my shop, so if you guys aren't gonna get anything then it's time to go."

They went on for a while, as we pretended to focus on the game. Eric started to sweat.

"Alright, you guys can come out." The high schoolers had left, and they hadn't touched the radiator grates. Eric looked at the owner and Bob. They both stood behind their respective glass counters, and I'd never seen adults so alert. Bob looked back at Eric, and said, in that rising-to-shrill voice that usually came out as he would explain how he was gonna win the game, "I had a hand on my shotgun the whole time."

Sophie's World

Through daily installments, I recently finished Sophie's World. It was satisfactory as a novel and worked well as a bathroom read. I liked the regular installments of philosophy, and that Jostein Gaarder presented them through a fictional narrative. Unfortunately, the narrative felt more contrived than many of the philosophies in the book.

That being said, I will now take issue with the plot in a spoiling way - though I argue that this is no real loss to the reader. It's a philosophical story about a girl who realizes that her world isn't really as it seems: not an original plot, nor is it necessarily trite. My issue is with Gaarder's execution of the story. Specifically, Hilde's reaction to Sophie's dilemma.

Hilde's father writes Sophie's World, the text-in-text, as a means of sharing the world of philosophy with his daughter. As such, the text focuses primarily on the lessons that Sophie receives. Characters and plot serve more as medium than substance. So why does Gaarder make Hilde care so much about her father's manipulation of Sophie, and make it a central issue in the book? I, the reader, certainly don't care about the manipulation, nor do I believe that Hilde would react that way. Then again, I only read it while sitting on the toilet