« on: October 03, 2008, 04:33:01 pm »
I usually wake up at nine, but sometimes its at ten. Whatever time it is, it usually isn't enough. The sun sneaks through a crack in the curtains, hurting my eyes. Sometimes I drink myself to sleep, but then sometimes I don't. More often than not, I stay up late into the night, playing “what if” games to keep my mind sharp, and reading books on philosophy, warfare, history and science to expand my thinking and open myself to new possibilities. To add a finish to that sharper edge.
I get up and go downstairs, making a coffee in one of the giant mugs I found on a sale. They're big enough to keep me in coffee until it becomes cold, no matter how fast I drink. Perfect in the morning. I then usually skip breakfast, depending how late it is and start to exercise. Stretches first, then press-ups, sit-ups, star-jumps and patterns. Always the patterns. Work it from Saju Makgi up to Chon-Ji and back down again. Sometimes I skip some, if they bore me. I'm getting better, nearer my previous heights, but I'm still not as good as I could be. Even with stretches, kicks that were once easy are now impossible. Can't concentrate on that though, just got to push ahead.
Log onto the internet, if I didn't do that at breakfast. Read emails, check job sites, skim-read forums and put in a couple of sarcastic replies, to let people know I am still alive, and will deal with them when I have time. Check the BBC news feed, then back to work. Pen and paper this time. Create, think, outpouring of patterns of cognition. Find the threads, expose them, analyse. Time for a shower, then lunch. Healthy food, wholeseed bread, natural honey, lettuce, white meats and so on. Pure fruit juices. Maybe another coffee.
Much easier to keep the routine now. Previous weeks had worked me harder, of course, but less thoroughly. Also stunted my thinking. Repetitive actions, but not so repetitive to allow for mental freewheeling. Numbing, dull. Caught in patterns, unable to contrast, shift, put my thinking elsewhere and escape. Worked my fingers to the bone too, literally. Skin still peels off me in the shower, leaving my fingers raw. When I exercise hard, it opens the cuts and sweat pours in, stinging me nearly to the point of submission. Cannot give up though. Here, I can think myself away from it.
The girl wants another lesson, when she is back next week. She's not very good. Keen, but too quick to understand, does not grasp the concepts properly. Has preconceptions not tempered by critical methods. Doesn't know how to think properly, no true student of Ichi Ryu Ni To yet. Slashes instead of cuts, is unable to fight without making distance. Perhaps she will learn, perhaps not. Not even sure why she wants the lessons, probably does not matter. She pays and I teaches, I don't need to know any more.
Its well into the afternoon now. The majority of the routine is over. I can watch the TV, but it doesn't interest me. Boring shows, repeats, rehashed monotony. Friends are gone, either overseas or back to study, or vanished entirely. Totally alone here. I grab my iPod, hope it doesn't freeze up and go for a walk. Get lost in the suburban sprawl, taking dirty looks from the housewives and pensioners as I take my time and examine what I want. Empty my mind, pure reaction to my environment. No wonder nor malice or distrust, just curiosity. Let the sun beat down on me, in this autumn summer. Makes up for the real one.
Return home. Continue with my studies. Critical theory. Fifth Generation Warfare. Memes. Postmodernism. History. Methods of subversive movements. Political ideology. Biology. When it gets harder to read, I cook. Simple fare. Curry. Fried beef and rice. Easy Chinese meals. A cheap wine, if I can afford it, usually white.
Consider going out. Its dark. A good time. But unknown out there. Old friends, old enemies, all have moved on. Elsewhere, engaged in petty struggles. Normal lives. Succumbing to routines thrust on them, instead of their own making. Could find new friends, or new enemies. Rip off the scum. Upset the status quo. Get properly drunk, get laid. Find out where I stand. But no point. Wont even be here much longer, with any luck. Not interested in making friends with the medicated, cookie-cutter rebels. Not worth fucking with the others. No network either. No fallback positions, no favours to call back in. Meditate instead. Purposeless discipline. Retreat into “what if's” until the questions wont stop and I need a drink, and then I sleep. Once again.