Finally, there’s poetry. Now I realize that the word “poetry” sounds romantic, but I can assure you that’s the farthest thing from the truth. Poetry is a wolf in your chest that wants to chase the breeze. And there’s almost no good in that. Certainly no food. But poetry doesn’t care that it’s Monday and you’ve got business to attend to. It doesn’t exist for you to control. Poetry wants you in the moment. Worst of all it tells you that it’s the reason you’re a writer at all, and that you’d damn well give it the attention it wants or else it’s going to rip a hole in your heart.
My friend, David Thompson, not-too-long ago lost his Wife. He retired from his job. And now he has sold his home. His life will change. He writes:
I will be house-less, but not homeless … What I want to do is go see friends and family. I want to spend a few days here and there, laughing and enjoying their company … I’ll look into a mobile-house. I don’t need much, just a galley, a place to clean myself, a place to sleep, and room to work. Much can be done outside (especially the cooking), but I want a warm, dry place for the Girl (his beloved dog) and myself.”
You can read about it in this post on his blog: A New Beginning.
Or, better yet, follow him on his new adventure on his blog Random Ruminations.
It’s been two weeks since I broke my toe. I had a follow-up appointment with my doctor today.
Most of the discussion revolved around her pleading with me to continue wearing the walk boot, the cam walker, that keeps my toe straight and keeps me from bearing weight through it. (If you don’t remember, the toe is broken pretty badly. An orthopedic surgeon even recommended surgery for it – two screws.)
I go back in four weeks. I told her that I’d keep it on for at least two and, maybe, a firm-soled shoe for the next two (this was partially her plan).
The rest of my visit was a discussion of the shoe on my other foot. On my first visit, I was wearing a Vivo Barefoot. This visit I was wearing my Merrell Barefoot.
She said, “That shoe won’t do at all. You need something firm. Like a new pair of Asics. What is that shoe? It’s like not wearing anything.”
I told her the type and followed with, “It’s got a wide toe box, no arch support, the ball of my foot is inline with the heel. And no wacky heel training wheels either.”
“Well, that won’t do. You’re going to need something firm to support your toe,” she said.
I’d just as soon wear the boot than try to shove my feet into neuvo-sneakers. It’s been five years since I’ve had my foot in something like that – other than the odd wedding and couple of golf games. I’m not going to shove one in now.
I’d just as soon keep wearing the cam walker.
As a kid, I taught myself how to sharpen a knife with a stone. Turns out that I was doing it kinda right and kinda wrong. I think I over-sharpen and over-process.
I’m going to try this method and see how things work out.
Watch Eddie Cummings grapple and you are watching John Danaher’s grappling philosophy in action.
That is an x-ray of my broken big toe.
How did that happen? I’ve taken to saying, “I took an unfortunate step.”
If you really want to know, I’ll tell you. But it’s a little jiu-jitsu geeky … and I’m not going to explain the geekiness:
I was in top half guard. I’d already established top head-and-arm control with chest-to-chest pressure and was proceeding to misalign his spine to get around his legs. But then he made a little space and I’d lost chest-to-chest pressure.
When this happens, I don’t press the issue and force a technique, I move on. And stand.
My goal is start a modified toreando (“bull fight”) pass. As part of the pass, I must step forward with my left foot.
When I stepped forward, either my toe got caught in the mat or my balance was disturbed. Instead of landing on the ball of my foot, I landed on my toe. And it snapped.