Slippery

Yeah. Now I'm feeling angry and destructive. Burning bridges time. I won't, of course, what with my being so mature and all. So self-disciplined and rational. Jiu jitsu is necessary for my mental health. It isn't learning new moves, it's not drilling -- it's training, rolling ... direct competition that requires extreme exertion. Sweating and slipping and hardly being able to breathe. I need that. I need it. I could run, start running hard again, and it would do, but it's not the same.

Problem is, there are too many guys who just don't want to roll with me. I could not be more careful. I keep my weight off most everyone -- certainly those who are meaningfully lighter than me. I go slow slow slow, on purpose, so I don't bang someone in the head. I'm not reckless -- I'm careful. Assiduously. Diligently. I go so slow I get made fun of. I could go much faster. But I'm careful. It isn't really the beginners who avoid me. That would be understandable, but they're willing. It's the guys at my level, or above. What the hell is that about? It's getting hard to respect.

I pointed out tonight that these fellows roll with guys much bigger than me. Someone said, "Yeah, but you're so strong." That's kind of unanswerable. I could say that I roll with guys who are faster than me -- is that an excuse not to roll with them? There are guys who are much more skilled. I shouldn't roll with them? But that's just an argument. I'm too strong? What, I should be weaker? I should be smaller? The only excuse I can see is that they don't want to lose -- and they're good enough to win. So what's the problem? I'm strong? How will anyone get better if they only roll with weaker opponents? How will I get better if the guys who are better than me but not as strong won't roll with me? See? Get it? Understand?

The answer of course is that they're in it for something else. I need to be exhausted. I don't mind the ache and the pain. I can think of things that are a lot worse than that. These guys have their own requirements though, which seem to be excluding me. I have the right to have emotions about that fact. I wouldn't see a benefit in expressing such emotion, but I have them.

There's one very large guy I don't roll with much. He'd be a fight. But I'm not ready for a fight until later, and he's left by then. There's another guy, a purple belt who's about my size, but he's just dangerous -- reckless. I've had a limp for a month because of him, and if I'm crippled I'll go insane ... I don't know if I'd commit my homicides before or after I went quite mad. So I don't want to be crippled.

It's not disrespect -- feels like it, but it's not. I'm tolerated by all, and perhaps even "liked" by most. It's not rejection -- we need not bring childhood into this discussion, right? It's not cowardice, although in my angry mood I can't come up with reasons why not. It's nobody's responsibility to keep me happy. Lucky thing, cuz someone would be doing a poor job of it.

We build boxes, and climb inside and fasten the lid, and then pound on the sides. Let me out of here!

I roll so that grief does not consume me, so that anger doesn't drive me mad, so that loneliness doesn't crush me with despair. Rolling is not sufficient to that task. But it is, currently, the only release I seem to allow myself. Someone invited me to have some coffee the other night. My excuse was reflexive. (I have to do such and such.) (I don't drink coffee.) (I'm a small weak man paralyzed by a fear of even the thought of an unguarded moment in public, and so I choose isolation rather than risk the uncertainty and discomfort of unstructured sociability.) You know -- just some excuse.

There it is. Anger turns into fear. Grief turns into self-pity. It all rolls into an incomprehensible mass of emotion. Memory turns in on itself like a carnivorous parasite, all teeth and anus. Sometimes it feels like I'm not going to go on much longer. Why bother. It's just a feeling, though. I'm thinking I must have had something like a nervous breakdown a few years ago. I wasn't nervous and it wasn't a breakdown. I maintained a sufficient degree of functionality. But I was ruined. How does a man get out of that box?

I miss my boys. So much that I can hardly stand it.

I feel safe in saying such things here. It is a structured social environment, anonymous for the most part and certainly without consequences. Anonymous -- like you. It offers the safety of speaking from the heart to someone who's not really listening. What could be more comforting than such futility? It's safe -- impersonal for all that it has the form of intimacy. Think of it as casual sex. No commitment and no consequences -- a fantasy of casual sex. That's what pornography is for -- so that a man can dream.

These disjointed and satirical observations? What, you thought I was serious, speaking from the heart? Please. I'm far too subtle to be understood.


J