i’m sort of caught between wanting to post images as i go, so you can see how the game grows (and that would be on our blog, i should specify), and wanting to avoid giving too much away, or, alternately, planting the seed of a visual that may (at this point i can say most likely will) later change, and frustrate those who were privy to the early iterations of the art. but as i type it out, i think that can think of a way to get the benefit and avoid the downfall of writing on the game development. so you may wanna keep an eye on the DS blog. as this thing heats up, we’ll certainly be adding more over there.

—

bruises on my knee

my rib is healing up pretty well. just a week or so of pain, i guess. a very localized pain, and not hard to deal with. i’ll be on the look out to see if the original injury is going to be acting up like this every time i take some whacks to the ribcage. which is not so bad. always the scariest part is not understanding why something is happening with your body. once it’s a known, it’s easy not to get stressed out when it comes around again.

–

so here we are now in the year of the dragon, and so many things feel to be coming together. it’s almost uncanny how sweetly this is happening on a few fronts, but life—being life—will surely deliver her usual load of obstacles along the way, so i feel no worry about that! meanwhile, most of these events i speak of are not happenstance, or random occurrences, but rather the natural culmination of work made. work on the inside, work on the outside. however we want to frame it, the year is beginning with many auspicious, encouraging, and exciting developments. i have a very good feeling about this year.

my black belt test will be on march 10 (only four days after my birthday), and i continue to prepare. reports are handed in, i train anywhere from 6 to 9 times a week. some of those days are demo team, some are assisting instruction kids classes, some are regular classes. they all serve an important purpose, they are all required.

which is, i suppose, a fair segue into the very exciting tho somewhat startling news that i’ve been asked to step up to assistant team captain for the demo team! whoa. this really took me by surprise. R is the team captain, but as a fourth dan with a massive number of hours per week (he is there anytime the dojang is open, has been for years, and is master lee’s right hand man) that’s understandable. my buddy J used to be assistant team captain, but in testing for second dan, he injured himself and has been out since october. i hardly know what i do or have done to deserve the assistant team captain position, but if the team coach and team captain feel i can do the job, i will do my best to prove their trust is well founded. i’ll admit that i’m slightly uneasy at taking a position where i’ll be critiquing and helping ranks higher than me with their technique, but i’ll be sure to preface my stint with a declaration that i’m seeing this role assignment as a way to provide an extra pair of eyes, and not as a statement that my technique is flawless or necessarily better than anyone i’m critiquing. or at least, i imagine i’ll say that. then again, what i say to the team will depend on how K or R introduce the new position. i’d be happy to not have to lookout for people’s egos all that much. i mean, these are all blackbelts and chodanbo. as a martial artist you are expected to be able to handle your ego. but i’m sympathetic to the fact that this could be a slightly touchy moment! anyway, it was a real honor to be asked. i didn’t see it coming at all. on the other hand, i think this, as well as having to spend a lot of time assisting and teaching the kids, actually addresses areas i need to address in my martial arts journey.

as you’ve noticed, i talk (well, write) a lot about my focus…about my attention to where i need to improve, about my journey in martial arts, about the physical injuries, about rising above, about keeping humble, about goals, about progress—but this is all internal stuff. i work very hard, but keep my focus inward. and for most of your color belt days, this is (i think) the way to do it. avoid too much focus on others, aside from when they can help you learn. avoid worrying about how their technique might need to improve. avoid getting distracted. focus on yourself. keep your head down to the grindstone.

but at a certain point, you are forced to come out of this cocoon. your transformation as a martial artist must include a growth out of yourself; a lifting the eyes off the grindstone, and a broader view, that includes others. this is where assisting instructing comes in, the teaching credits requirements for black belt, the black belt oath, the giving back to the community. these are not incidental, but very much part of the philosophy and practice of martial arts. i’ve touched on this idea at least once before, but i didn’t realize until diving into assisting instructing that i have hesitancy at all in correcting others’ technique or acting as an authority. this actually surprised me a lot! i know myself…i know i have lessons to impart; i’m an oldest brother; i’m a natural teacher; i’ve been a counselor; i’m a father. i’m also prone to being a know-it-all (tho i’ve lost much of this behavior or impulse over the years). through much effort and time, i’ve grown much in my ability to bring issues to a person and can do it assertively, kindly, and without being aggressive or weird. in other words, i should have no problem with the role of teaching/instructing others. and yet…i do not carry all or the entirety of my habits and personality into the dojang. in fact, i very much transform to the best of my ability. i think if martial arts is approached properly, in fact, you leave most of your self at the door. this, too, is the idea. you come into training humble, open, like a sponge, and ready to learn and listen. and it seems i’ve done such a good job at that that by now it feels weird to begin looking up out of myself, focusing on others, speaking to them about their technique, and in general, assuming any kind of authority. it’s not a moral authority, to be clear, or anything more than the natural hierarchy of taekwondo, very much based on the work you’ve put in (rank), and the techniques you’ve mastered. so there’s no reason it should be an ugly sort of authoritarian gig. but i guess that’s a ground i’m feeling out now. this position as assistant team captain nudges me further into this somewhat uncomfortable area. and that’s good.

…it really did surprise me, you know! in case i’ve not adequately conveyed my genuine feelings here. both getting the position as well as discovering my awkwardness at being any kind of authority in this realm. i’m surprised by my surprise! i think i’ve grown to really enjoy the fact that in at least one place in my life, i can let go of a lot of that type of stance. i don’t mind at all taking my time to climb the ladder of rank. i enjoy knowing, and stating time and time again, that i’m nowhere near mastery or perfection and that i understand this is a long road. i don’t mind at all taking a backseat. i don’t mind at all being quiet and just showing what i do instead of talking at all about it or pretending to be some kind of example.

but sure enough, martial arts will, unerringly, find any area you harbor fear, lack of confidence, uneasiness, immaturity, or a need to grow—and fast, force you to confront it. this dynamic is at once what makes martial arts both scary as well as one of the most rewarding things you’ll ever do, if you stick with it and move through it.

had an unexpected interaction last night with the new(ish) downstairs neighbor, who looks to be a (white) kid in his early 20s. we’ve not yet spoken before this. he got himself an electric guitar for christmas, and of course now i hear it through my floor at various times during the day (and night).

we’d not yet spoken on noise, but since he moved in (he and his girlfriend?) i’ve had to push back a few times when they were not being sensible or considerate. like the morning after his partying in the middle of the week one night until 3 am, i’d crank my bass through his floor first thing in the morning. wakey wakey! hope you got some good sleep last night!

and one morning he began playing some music way too loud too early, i retaliated by turning on my subwoofer and bumping some control machete, which generally ends most musical inter-apartment exchanges quickly.

sharp people get what’s going on. it’s pretty obvious cause and effect stuff. i don’t instigate it, i only instruct upon it. why so coded and musically moded? i prefer those types of communications after a few years of face to face confrontations that at times led to fights, near fights, or guns waved around.

i’d hoped these times back and forth with stereos were signal enough, and to his credit, they seemed to work.

even more to his credit tho was this conversation last night. he had been playing the guitar, and it was about 9:45 at night, and suddenly i get a knock on the door. it was him, asking if i could hear it, and was it too loud. i said i thought ten pm a good cutoff time for such levels of noise. i added that he might have noticed that when i’m playing my music loud, at ten pm it goes off, and i explained that the reason for that was because that’s when i put my headphones on. he said, “ten pm? is that cool?” i said, “it seems like a good time to quiet down, no?” and we agreed, and that was that.

it was the easiest and weirdest conversation about apartment noise i can remember having. it’s a delicate dance,  you realize. or i realized, after a number of years of living in different situations, in different states. unfortunately, it’s usually the case that the people who don’t care or aren’t aware enough to avoid playing loud music (or just being loud) at bad times are also the very same people who don’t care in the least once you confront them about it. sometimes (often) it’s not worth the conflict, and you have to judge on a case by case basis. having ongoing feud stuff with neighbors can take a heavy and ongoing toll on your peace of mind.

now they are downstairs singing I Wanna Hold Your Hand by the Beatles, but over a somewhat distorted electric guitar. oh, i can see where this is going. i’m going to have a band underneath me in a week.

well. as long as we have a set time when it quiets down, it’s all good. after all, if they can deal with my flurries of activity on the heavy bag, which definitely thumps the floor pretty good, then i can be accommodating, too.

in fact, i’ll admit i miss the first apartment i had (shared) in this college town. it was an apartment building mostly inhabited by college students and you could always hear instruments being played in one apartment or another. on one hand, there was the downside of always hearing people through your walls. but on the other, there’s something about it that is comforting to me. reminds me of some of the scenes i grew up around. plus it’s hard for the building to feel lonely if there is always artistic energy going on.

hell, it beats a quiet street full of statues and rose bushes.

second-dawn skin is not to be tapped/
just like that/
we’re not out dropping gold crumbs/
for the blackbird’s glass gums/
open to the new sun/
i don’t fear it/
but ya must possess cause to get near it/
said ya must possess reasons to conjure up a spirit/

this, the other, and a bit of that/
in a vat/
not to be whipped haphazard like a towel snapped/
in a locker room on a placid noon/
when we’re the emperor’s royal hatchet-man seven-star baboon/
we live on hurricane/
and windowpane/
lightning in corpuscle form and straight hellfire on the spoon/
and like a soft, snake-shaped, wind rising up too soon/
swaying faster in a fraying basket/
emerald ojos on your personal praying mantis/
in the pleasure-plated soul lagoon/
you may interpret this new silence as the ninth phase of the moon

I’ve been off my feet and out of training as well as video production for the last week.

I was pretty disappointed, as I was on a groove with training. But when everything lined up the way it did, I knew the universe was providing a pause for me. The truth is, between the emotional experience of the last two years combined with a continuous weekly video production schedule; a new, intense taekwondo training schedule, and everything else in my life, I was feeling pretty harried, lately. There’s no doubt about that. I definitely needed some kind of break. So, hey! Why not a rib?

FOR MATTER OF PERSONAL RECORD

Before I got the message my brain was trying to send me, I tried to push through the pain of of the injury—which, by the way, is nothing major as far as I can tell—but after the Tuesday night session at the dojang, I felt worse. This is four days after the initial night where I got popped hard in the ribs at the end of a tournament training class (sparring).

So I went home and tried to find a proper suspender wrap method to damp out some of the pain, but was left in the end feeling a bit winded and annoyed. And ridiculous. I think it was all that gleaming, toothy metal. Or perhaps just a natural consequence of wearing suspenders sideways.

It’s times like this you suddenly thank your ribcage. Curling around your most vulnerable parts like an ivory fist, protecting your organs from the many things that would crush or bump or squeeze them in a day. They are rather amazing. Bone, and yet arranged in a way and woven together with muscle so they are flexible enough to move a bit when you breathe, and bend.

I’ve been reading about symptoms and diagnosing myself for many years…it’s because of my mother. I grew up around PDRs and anatomy books and her being a nurse all my life. I long ago became good at taking note of symptoms, when they began, in what context, and many details about the new sensations or body changes that might be useful in diagnosing. Those were the questions my mother would always pose to me when I came to her with news of an injury or illness.

After reading about fractured ribs, it seemed a good possibility. In any case, it was not a good idea to risk heart or lung damage, as one of the pain spots is in the front, over my heart. (“Fractures of the higher ribs potentially pose damage to the aorta.”) It was lines like that that decided it for me. But for those first four days, I was doing my stubborn thing that I do with my body. Ignoring the pain.

Then again, when you are practicing daily to not let the mind interfere with your training with all its pain and lazy signals on a constant basis, it needs to raise the volume when there is real danger.

Even as it heals, I don’t know if it was cracked or fractured or just bruised or what. I think maybe it is not fractured. I’m guessing it got hit hard, and bruised, or perhaps jammed back into the muscles like a jammed finger.

Or maybe it is just a tiny hairline fracture that has knit itself fast using all the jalapeño juice I’ve been feeding it. I don’t know for sure. As the hospital is charging me $600 for a bandaid and five minutes of their time already, I don’t dare go in for an actual X-ray type situation. Some Tiger Balm and later, hot shower time and one more day of rest oughtta do it.  I can’t take much more than that anyway! I’m feeling so restless.

DRAWING THE SEAM OF SUMMER SHUT

Speaking of my foot, it is nearly entirely healed. The wound is nearly all closed over with scar. And the part where boiled water splashed on me peeled away, leaving a rather interesting patch of  lighter skin on my summer-tanned foot. I have not thrown out the broken culprit cup. I loved that pretty blue cup. It’s that bright, translucent blue. The color of the bottles you’d see on windowsills in houses in the country. I guess I’ll glue it together. And use it for something. Not for drinking, though. It has lost that privilege.

I woke up at 4 this morning and soon had an idea on script  for new video. Scribbled down all my thoughts. Talked out a rough draft of the monologue, recorded it for reference later. I’ve also been doing more work for Digital Stoneworks, for our game. That seems to be picking up a little. Looking forward to making progress on that. This next week will be back to work on a few fronts, but at a slower pace than previously. A slower and more attentive pace.

Hey. I also solved the Sage of the Wind Temple in Zelda:Wind Waker, and restored the Master Blade’s power to dispel evil. Which is very cool.

And I formally received my stripe and certificate for this last belt test. I’d already memorized Taegeuk Sa Jang in the week I set out to do. Now to keep practicing it, refining it. The hardest part is the first remembering of it. The whispery skeleton of vines upon which you’ll soon hang thunder. That first imprint is a watering. That is the precious sapphire secret in the bud.

at nine, some fool took me to see Friday the 13th. but there was communal childcare very often in the community i lived in, and not all parents were old or wise, i’m sure, and it was the 1970s, on top of that (perhaps early 80s?). whatever the case was, that movie etched its horrible self into my imagination for a long time. to this day (and i’m not saying it’s because of this, tho the sentence sounds that way, and who knows, maybe it is related) i don’t care for massive gore as a main driver of any horror flick. i’d much rather you fuck with my mind, than with my stomach.

I love Horror because like Science Fiction (which of course, often overlaps with Horror), it travels to the extreme of human experience or imagination. i understand that margin. something about this extremeness and intensity makes sense to me, having lived my life. It is in Horror stories that you will find so much pathos, so much feeling, that you will provoke the real motivations and agendas from characters. where truth is forced into the open, be it ugly or beautiful. Where the veneer of civilization falls away.

i like Horror for the moral center that the films usually have. it’s a critical element of Horror that there be some moral lesson in there. i am not saying i care for all morals that are to be found in Horror films. but i like that this is what they are about, at heart. you betrayed someone, someone betrayed you, someone stole knowledge, someone broke an oath, someone violated some taboo or rule or ethical line. in some way, something was broken, stolen, violated, or neglected. and the universe now conspires to atone for that. humans are taught drastic lessons. of course you might easily find a film that contradicts this, but this is an integral part of Horror as a genre. this is exactly why so many moral and cautionary tales told to children have historically been gruesome and scary. same animal.

Horror has to overstep boundaries to be Horror in the first place. I like that. It’s a good catalyst for excitement. You can’t have a story where characters have a bland arc, or “nothing much happens.” if you go wrong as a Horror writer, you can go very, very wrong. What is that saying? Bad horror becomes comedy and bad comedy, horror ? Something like that. But you can also be poetic with Horror. You can be vague, like dreams are, like the corners of the mind can be. You can scoop out big parts and leave them full of questions and just that can be horrific if they are the right questions at the right time.

And you can tell otherworldly stories. Topics like multiple lives, reincarnation, deep (radical) questions about identity, extreme tragedy. After all, in this world, there are times when a human must bear what is absolutely unbearable. And what then? What then, when the immovable object meets the inexorable force? Then, horror.

Of course a “Horror” film can take many shapes. There are the ones you’d expect, the movies listed as Horror (The Fly, Halloween, Psycho, Friday the 13th series, Nightmare on Elm Street, The Deaths of Ian Stone, The Voice, The Wig, The Grudge and so on and so on). I can’t even say those are my absolute favorite. Many of the self-proclaimed Horror films are extremely cheap and cheesy.

But there are also stories maybe listed as Drama or Action that I personally think of as Horror films. Films like Memento, Old Boy, and Adaptation, for example. In this latter category, the overall structure or methods used by the film may exclude it from a “Horror” designation, but the overall conclusion, or the path of the protagonist merits the label—again, to me.

Adaptation for example. IMDB lists it first and foremost as a “Comedy,” and then as a Crime and Drama film. But to me, the lead character’s awakenings were, ultimately, horrific. What an arc. It makes the soul ache to see her grasp so earnestly, to fall so far. To end up in a place where reasonable expectations lead to Hell. And yet, this arc is very much part of the common human experience. The kind we paper over in our minds and memories. Adaptation as Comedy? Okay, parts are pretty funny. The twin thing. A Crime flick, yup. Technically inarguable. But more specifically and salient to the point, it is a Horror film’s job to tell such a story. A story that reveals the truth that beauty, revelation, and freedom can be a flower petal’s width away from emptiness, degradation, and harrowing loss. For that is a horrible truth, indeed.

And not a place we want to dwell for a long time. I don’t. But that is a very important story for human beings. That’s also why I love Horror. It’s biggest weakness is probably how often it is exploited by those who want to turn a quick buck, as it is a genre that has a pretty good return even for a low budget. But the Horror genre, nonetheless, remains a vehicle where very important stories pretty much demand to be told.

ever since i was reminded of my physical “tic,” that tightening up that i can lapse into, i’ve made it a project to change that. to undo it. i asked myself how do you train to relax? and realized, through the doing, that i had the question wrong. after all, i had already trained–unwittingly–to tighten up when either i prepared for physical exertion, or my mind involved itself in matters martial. so it was more how to untrain that habit. or how to “see” it; how to become conscious of when this other training kicked in, and to rewire and replace with other behavior and mental messaging.

it sounds complicated when i put it into words, of course, but it’s a simple process that we undertake to change a habit and i’m sure you are familiar with it.

i had the ‘self check’ part right. the tightening had become unconscious, and so i had to more or less set a mental recurring alarm to note my upper body, to trip a circuit when i made myself rigid, and to relax. to breathe. that’s what it came down to. i was stopping breathing. and so in checking myself over a course of days, i realized that i was doing it when exerting at home, as well. a bad habit. stretch to reach something? pick something up to move it? push hard on something? you have to remember to always be letting breath move through your body. it’s an understandable though destructive habit, to hold your breath when you exert. it checks your power, it slows you down, it sets you up to be exploded (your balance as well as your blood vessels or muscles) and thrown off balance by a blow or a big shift in the terrain/your body/the situation.

so i made that effort, i dipped into that energy that i find very accessible when training in TKD; that will-mustard that spreads thick and pungent. it’s a powerful current from the mind, it’s invoked when you really really care about your discipline (of whatever nature) and really mean it down to your bones to change something you are doing, a habit, a way of being. this intention…this current, is stronger than usual. more effective from being so charged with meaning for you…i guess that’s one way of saying it, maybe not the best. but that’s one of those things i love about training in TKD. the Can Do, the Will Do, the ability to align your mental energy and focus with your physical self. the competition against your weaker or lazier self, or the housing of a battle between entropy and evolution within your own frame.

wow, it all sounds very grandiose. you’ll have to forgive me, i’m sort of a drama queen. but please also know that i mean it all very sincerely.

so, i practiced at home just by living, as well as kicking and punching practice. i loosened up my upper body. as often, when i really really mean it with something (like when i quit smoking cigarettes cold turkey the first time i walked into the dojang) the hardest part really is just the decision to commit fully. and once i do, bam. it’s like an iron door shutting. sort of how like yesterday i put away my grinder and coffee pot. i don’t drink coffee now. at least for now. so no need for that. moving forward. it was like this with the loosening up decision. it affected me deeply to realize what i was doing with my body. and it was important for me to progress past that unconscious reflexive action and state of being.

and it was immediately gratifying. looser and with wind moving through me, i kick higher. easier. faster. i practice some muy thai knee moves (these are part of my loosening up routine, less stress on my legs because you don’t extend in this case, only lift knee high) and am so happy to see how much faster i can move my knees and legs (stating the super obvious here) when i am not clamping down on my diaphragm.

and in loosening up, not just in practice, but in all i was doing, i experienced a different internal state. and somehow, in doing so, i realized that this tension was (of course) some kind of apprehension clinging to the inside of my ribs, hanging curled tight from my clavicles. some unforgiving energy i was holding toward myself…some fear of some sort…of something ahead. some insecurity, maybe partially an anxiety about training and how fast i was moving, or what it meant to practice violence, or just the challenge of pitting myself against my less willing parts.

ugh. i really hate putting some things into words. while it is a service to demystify some well-entrenched verbal hackery surrounding some matters, to simplify; in other areas you can only wave crude symbols around and you feel it does a disservice to the magic of what you attempt to describe. this is one of those times.

but as often happens in pursuits that involve your heart (so far i’ve found this so with acting as well as martial art), you realize that the small technique you strive to master physically really is but a symbol for the ethereal matters of your soul. and so on letting go of a tension that binds your lungs tight and your shoulders as if steel, you exhale into tears, and into relief. you realize you have been carrying around something…something you don’t need to. it slows you down. it makes you heavy. maybe you don’t do it all at once, maybe you only begin to do it. but it is a beginning that feels like a loosening, an unraveling of some thing that binds a part of you. and you don’t do it with a profuse streaming out of chipped edge and mushy bottomed words. you don’t do it with therapy sessions. you simply realize this tightness is interfering with the progress you want to make in your art. and you decide it must go, then.

and you practice. and practice. and practice.

sabum complimented my motions today, and it made me feel very good. i knew then that my little project was working, and not just in my imagination. myself and someone else were practicing kicking techniques togother; we were doing Ahp Chagi (Front Kick), Tdwim Yah Chagi (Jumping Front Kick), Chirugi (Punch). you do these in sequence so it’s one, two, three.  kick, step, jump, kick in the air, land, punch from the hip. (there’s something about these motions–and this is why it is an art–that just sort of clicks when you hit them the way they are designed, and they become physically joyful to execute…that’s the sweet spot you practice toward in a move.)

sabum watched me and shouted happily, “Now you have it! You are much lighter. Before, heavy.”

i smiled widely and bowed, thanked him as he turned away to move to the front of the room.

and in all of this, i realize too that i just have to lean back. i want to bring myself up to speed in a few days. after a hiatus of over a decade. that’s ridiculous. if i push myself too hard i’ll keep pulling muscles (which i may do anyway, but wow, my right hamstring is rebelling!), and well, i’ll be crouched into a cramp, as i try to rush forward. so i let go of that. i am where i should be. i am practicing. i am lucky enough to have my health be in good shape. and as sabum—and my own internal signals—let me know today, i am making progress.

and you can take those inner ideas and decisions, and spread them around, too. to the rest of what you do and how you are. i mean, that’s the idea, really. it’s all one.

“It is not just with his throat that the lark sings, but with his whole body.”

—Soseki

currently reading famed japanese author soseki (1867-1916, natsume kinnosuke). kusa makura is the name of the book, literally translated as “the grass pillow,” a phrase traditionally colloquially understood in japan as a journey. [the title of the english-language translation of the novel is the three cornered world].

soseki grew up in the Meiji era, where Western styles of thought and art threatened to subsume the country in a wave of adulation for the new and foreign styles. soseki concerned himself with critiquing and aiming to destroy the schools of thought that bound the other writers of the time, despite how many followers of his own he gained. because he concerned himself with this deconstruction, soseki is perceived to have held himself somewhat superior to much of society. this constant critique set him apart from his one other known contemporary (mori ogai) who also bucked the growing trend to copy the West or join the popular schools at the time and was on his own. one of the factors in soseki’s life that lent to this edge was his background not in one of these Japanese schools so taken with the literature and thinkers out of the West, but in the Chinese classics.

soseki died at 49 of an ulcerated stomach.

in kusa makura, the author undertakes a journey through the countryside to explore poetry, or rather, his role and function as a writer, or poet, or one who endeavors to elevate beauty, or to communicate the latent beauty in all things.

After thirty years of life in this world of ours, I have had more than enough of the suffering, anger, belligerence and sadness which are ever present; and I find it very trying to be subjected to repeated doses of stimulants designed to evoke these emotions when I go to the theatre or read a novel. I want a poem which abandons the commonplace, and lifts me, at least for a short time, above the dust and grime of the everyday world; not one which rouses my passions to an even greater pitch than usual.

he believes that when artists/poets do this, we stand apart from the situation to do so. and that anytime we experience our surroundings as an individual rather than this detached character/observer, we forget the beauty that exists there. i think my own experience is a bit more nuanced, and less dichotomized than this sentence conveys, but have no fear. soseki often writes a passionate paragraph and then demonstrates his inclination to do exactly the opposite. so there is much being said, and the wielding of such ambiguities or contradictions is a masterful and not accidental movement.

it really is funny, what he does in his writing. i find myself nodding, then stilled with sensual appreciation at his painterly descriptions, then suddenly laughing at the points he makes through metaphor. and not just metaphor, but metaphor with metaphor, all exploded by a narrator who continually finds the humor in his own hypocrisy.

by “hypocrisy,” i think i am using a broad sense of the word…as in to mean hypocrisy as well as a position of ambivalence or duality; this inherent doubling that occurs from a perch he tries continually to occupy, or at least regain. statements made about ego (as in the identity of I, of self, separated from this experience that nature is), about artists, about drama, lives, others….i’ve only begun, only in chapter 4, now. i’m sure it draws this all together even more.

though i don’t necessarily expect a pat conclusion. what i love about reading literature from china and japan and india is how that need is less demonstrated, that ugly clunky self-conscious need to provide artificial closure or insight or to milk out some acidic moral at the end of it all. i am not saying that eastern thinkers have no point to make. far from it. but there is more speaking through doing. learning through moving through the story, not so much having that meaning delivered in a chunk somewhere in the third act. and nicely tied off, to boot.

oh, but in these writings—such gentle and magical ways in which points are often offered. just my word choice ought tip you off. made vs offered. nobody is going to jackhammer your shoulderblades so that you exit with a three-dimensional stamp of understanding™ etched into your skin. there is beauty to be felt, meaning to be had, and moreover an experience that is there just for reading. or looking. it’s that understanding of the moment, of the Now, of that essence of human experience that always draws me in.

soseki entrances you with prose so visually rich you could lift a screenplay out of it with one hand. you find yourself in moon-drenched night scenes, heart palpitating to the mysteries he begins weaving in. woman or fox in the brush? human shadow or tricks of the eyes? then he’ll shift into a self-conscious, wryly humorous and self-obsessed narration about artists and reality that makes you think you’ve stumbled onto some strange blend of dosteovsky, patrick white (author of the vivisector, another book about the artist’s condition, and one also soaked in visually rich prose), and a japanese poet. i’m having a blast with it so far. i wondered right away from reading comments about the author if i would simply be moving at a measured pace through many pages of rich visual description, and i was ready for that. that experience bereft of a plot line. i didn’t expect the humor, the valuable insights about art and self, nor the gradually strengthening narrative.

his use of metaphor through nature’s happenings, buttressed by plainspeak regarding his thoughts is a very delicious and unexpected method. when i said “metaphor within metaphors” that’s really what i meant. perhaps it would be more accurate to say “metaphors on metaphors” or “metaphor along metaphor.” the idea of this style challenges spatial analogies, i guess. it’s like a book in two languages, where spanish is always on one side of the book, and the facing page is in english. soseki is speaking in visual metaphor side by side with prose….which sometimes uses metaphor of its own! so you are swirled, enraptured, held on all sides by a tale and at the same time a sensual experience of the tale.

the introduction to the book did not even seem to catch this jazzy motion of his, although i’m sure it was simply something they chose to leave out, as not every nuance of an author’s style can or should be divulged in the intro. but it seems a brilliant thing to be doing, and one that a reader perhaps should be warned (english very much needs a positive verb for ‘warn’ed) about before reading the book.

as i wrote earlier, we are told that soseki believed it the role of an artist to provide beauty, to unearth and display that latent and always present beauty in every experience. in this philosophy, he felt it was beneath an artist to be concerned with much of the mundane.

but then again there is his wonderful ambiguity. because at the same time, he places himself in little poems (through his telling of stories or the settings, such as a poet wandering up a rainy mountainside etc) that could be beautiful and transcendant, but then in exploring this function of artist who stands apart, he destroys the image and calls out how ridiculous and human his immediate experience is. this made me laugh. it was not written as a joke…but what he was saying by what he was doing was brilliant, and the final end result gave me joy.

i only included one paragraph, above, from this book. it cannot stand as representative of the reading experience. here are two more. even so, they are but crumbs plucked from the tablecloth, and i’d scatter more, but this is a meal best tasted from the first, and enjoyed at your own pace. to appreciate the many flavors, the many layers, the subtleties, the poetry of the whole.

The flowers whirl away
In the wind like snow.
The thing that falls away
Is myself.

Hana sasou
Arashi no niwa no
Yuki narade
Furi yuki mono wa
Waga mi narikeri

—THE PRIME MINISTER KINTSUNE

i am doing the spring cleaning thing, finally. i wondered when it would manifest. we are into july. but it had to be a moment that chose itself. one thing led to another.

it’s really amazing when you can sit back and stop trying to tie ends together and bring certain realities to bear…trying to arrange things against their own movement into the shape you think best, and instead become watchful and flexible so that you can move yourself to best enjoy or appreciate what things life is doing and bringing your way. what treasures reveal themselves, then. ones you’d not have thought to look for. and many seemingly magical coincidences.

i finally got behind all my furniture in the living room. cleared the junk away behind everything. threw some things out, rerouted some wires. i’ll need to do this to the kitchen soon. i did a halfway job–which looked pretty good–but then dishes crowded in on everything. i really need to get rid of/give away most of my dishes. there is no reason for them anymore. i need only one small set. an extra two for visitors, which i can keep put away. for myself a glass, a cup, a plate, a bowl, a fork, a spoon, a knife and chopsticks. that should do it. there is no reason my sink and counter should get piled up with enough dishes to feed a blogging convention.

master lee is a great sabum, a great teacher i can tell right away. not only does word of mouth move around him like a wide ring of fresh energy, extolling his kindness and ability, but it is plain to see.

luna's first day at the dojang

luna has not yet really been able to enjoy her class. the first time she came with me to all belts practice, but it was above her ability and she felt a bit shy and didn’t really know what to do but  she’ll engage and have a great time when she attends the children-specific class, which would’ve happened already but she caught the nasty cough her sister has and they are both quarantined for now.

but it sure is great to see her in her dobok. not only is she the most adorable white belt ever, but it’s always been important to me to have my girls (my girls especially, tho i’d like to see all my kids in tkd) train since rainsong was little (tho my attempst there failed). her mother wasn’t interested in that idea, but instead put rain into bible camp and horse riding courses. i tried my best, when i could, to introduce rainsong to the idea and to practicing. but you know how those busted relationships can go…some people will specifically strike anything from your kids’ life that you want or that reminds them of you, so deep is their loathing for the other parent of their child. this is still one of those cases.

rainsong and me, 1996ish

when you think about it, it’s impressive that some people can maintain active hate for decades. it’s like a worship of you, in a way. you remain that important to them…even if negatively. hmm. yeah. not for me. that life is not for me. i honor nobody with that kind of self-immolation.

soon luna will make friends in the dojang and she will (i hope?) love it. master lee already asked a few people (girls) on that first day to help luna get her dobok on when she first was fitted, and they whisked her away to later come back with dear luna in her outfit. she looked like a doll!

then, since lunita didn’t really know what you do in a dojang, she told the girls she was going to cover her eyes and they should run and hide. that sort of broke my heart. not that luna was sad, or confused, or anything bad happened. it didn’t. they agreed, and luna covered her eyes, but i actually brought luna to me before she had a chance to start a game, so i could keep her  close.

even the sweet moments watching your child can break your heart into a billion pieces for reasons you don’t even know. your children can seem so sweet, and so naive; so helpless and to survive, dependent on the good graces of the cruel, cruel world. watching them meet the world can surprise you, can rend you with pain you normally never feel for yourself, so inured you are to the way things are. even watching someone else tell her to not lean on the mirrors is not easy, in a tiny, private way. but only for a moment. it will all be good for her, which is of course why she is there. i can be very sensitive to my hypersensitive luna’s feelings, i know. which is why it will be best to give her to the children’s class and master lee, and back off of that part.

master lee brought good reminders to help her feel the dojang was ‘her place’ and to simply support her and tell her she did a good job. which i did. soon, she will meet all the younger kids there, and enjoy the special attention that master lee gives them.

i am still mightily sore, but in different ways than after the first day. and without so much pain. most excitingly, i did better on pacing myself. which is important if i want to make it through the entire class. if i don’t watch out for my pacing, i’ll launch every punch, strike, and kick with full kihap and full intensity, full speed and full extension. this will end up with me heaving for air.  master lee tells me that for the first month, i should keep my energy at about 6, instead of 10 because while my body remembers how to practice, i need to recondition and bring it back to training shape. he has to remind me a few times, but its sticking. i finished last class without stopping, tho many times i was close and really had to push through. he had us doing these wall to wall running, kicking, bowling, shotputting, basketball motion type drills which were exhausting. he told me he developed those specifically for when he was training the olympic tkd team.

on friday, master lee made sure to come around at the start of new exercises and show me the form, which i appreciated. i want to learn the movement from him. most people practicing that i’ve seen up close (lower ranks especially) often implement varying degrees of sloppiness, and i need to see a crisp original so i can copy it exactly. even if not sloppy, not everyone has the ability to render a martial arts movement beautiful. some bodies and brains just don’t seem to get there; they don’t feel that groove to lock into, or won’t snap tightly at the right moment, or maybe they just get there later, i don’t know. but i pay special attention to those who perform these moves a certain way. obviously, master lee is one of those. my body wants to do these moves without any loss of signal, without any degradation of art. of those who practice forms/poomsae sort of loosely or halfheartedly, i don’t think they are bad practitioners. but i guess i don’t understand why they are not getting everything out of it you could. gliding and then jamming and locking it out…extending, floating and BAM…. it’s a conscience-laden, gorgeous dance that has a center, a core that ties it all together. it’s not just a collection of moves that are arranged in a linear sequence like a checkbox list. if i sound judgmental, it’s not in a mean way. just in a way where i evaluate a context around me and decide where i need to be within that.

it made me feel very good that this focus of mine was noticed by a few people already (black belt instructors among them), people who made it a point to tell me. this lets me know i’m not living in a dream of my own imagining, but am demonstrating with my body what is taking place within, and that this performance mirrors my own perceptions. to me, taekwondo really is an art and it really must be perfected for the whole essence to work, i feel. not that you have to get stuff perfect right away, or soon. but my art will require me to get there at some point, to aim for that. martial arts (tkd) to me is like an invaluable personal close special friend that speaks to me on a very true level. because of that i feel i understand what its creators were/are getting at, i’ve grokked that since i first began training. that’s why my love for it is so deep. it does what religion tries to. it guides you along a path that allows you to access a higher self, a pure self that demonstrates focus, strength, balance, energy, and love into your life, into your body, helps you become a vessel of as much. but you have to work it like it is an art, not just a hobby and not just something you do for aerobics.

right now i’m trying my best to catch up on the forms, and the commands and responses. master lee’s dojang has a whole new set of protocol. what you say when you enter, what you say when you leave. what you shout in response to his drills. i feel all bumbly and unschooled! keeping my responses quiet as i listen to how others do it. hey, i’d love to come in all knowledgeable, but we all learn, and we all progress if we want to. its good for the humility bone. and again, i just can’t stand people who don’t know how to be humble on the mat about what they have yet to master. there’s something beautiful about a person’s humility as they learn something important to them. they only shine brighter once they learn and learn well.

—i stop here to muse suddenly on the fact that some people who know me only from online interactions might think i am not humble or that i cannot be, or am the opposite of humble (often my ego is a monster, it is true). i’ve heard as much. then again, as i try to remind them, you don’t know me from only reading me online. none of us know each other if that is the depth of our relationship and i stand by that. but despite the validity of that opinion, and however we are perceived, the truth is that we are many things and could become any of those things we choose. to whatever degree we want. we must find those things and pursuits and ways that help us become the self we feel is truest.

on protocol in the new dojang, i’ve got my sheet of paper and i’m finding pronunciation on youtube, and i’m listening hard in class, and asking when i’m stumped on something. i studied stuff about General Choi and some Korean history when i used to train, but i’m pretty sure in this school and our style of tkd, General Choi is de-emphasized, and i think it is because of the split in style and origins. i have to read more on it. but i also have to do my work for pay, for rent. so dividing time wisely is key. but soon i will get a couple books from the library out so i can expand my understanding of this art and its history. which reminds me, i’ve also taken up more reading lately.

it would be easy to dive fully into training and let many other things fall away. i have to find a balance there, too. for now i am going to three classes a week, and trying to see how that fits into my schedule. maybe later i will go more. when the body stops being sore at three times a week! mixing it up is good. so was the slushy margarita i got at the bar and grill down the street from the dojang on friday, after class. i have a feeling i’ll be back there, too.

this morning i read the intro to mein kampf, and most of a book of japanese poetry.

other things have happened that are worthy of discussing. but i’ve written here long enough.

I was writing recently on how much I love the Legend of Zelda games. I’ve played them since the 2D days, tho I really didn’t truly fall full in love until I got my N64 (secondhand) and fired up Ocarina of Time. I fell into that little world and didn’t come up for air for a while! And while Majora’s Mask threw me for a loop with the three-day time circuit, once I came to understand that one, my admiration for Nintendo’s genius only deepened. Just the fact that almost every game they dare to break the mold (and receive their share of criticism for it) is admirable in a world where so many find a formula for success and dare not muss one element from place after that.

The Zelda games are amazingly thought out, the artwork is rich and inviting, the use of symbols and themes complex and satisfying, the depth of the games astounding, and most of all they are a lot of fun.

What is most important to me with games like this—and today I mean games that I let my daughters play, or teach them to play—are the themes that the game communicates. I am very big on reading the themes and symbols and messaging that movies, games, and other media sends our way as listeners and participants. Because in that, there is a massive amount of power that is wielded on young minds.

I remember, now, arguing (a friendly discussion) with one woman I am friends with about the film Finding Nemo. She thought it was fantastic, while I cared not at all for the role of the female fish, given the entire cast and story. (However, I love the art, and do enjoy the story in other ways.) We both have children (she has two boys, while my two current youngest ones are girls) so we both have interest in what messaging they soak up. I will admit that I think much more about it, and perhaps “too much” to some. But I can’t really help that. Not only does my personal experience lead me to think it is very important, very very important, but my training in media, film, and the narratives communicated by cinema (even subtly), makes finding these elements in media instinctive at this point. No real effort required anymore.

In Finding Nemo, I felt the female fish was made silly, forgetful, ditzy and secondary to the assertive, take-charge (tho foolish) male (lead) fish. The male fish barks at her constantly and demeans her with his tone. I’ll make an important point: Depending on what age group you are talking about, the focus will shift as will the importance of how you frame messages. Us older people understand Albert Brooks’ very Jewishy kvetching humor (and I love him) but to a child, what is shown? What is taught? What message is contained only in that box, in that frame, in that two hours, without the benefit of addendum, backstory, or larger context? Us older folk (and this was my friend’s argument in favor of the film) realize in the end that the male fish is a clinging, fearful, arrogant, buffoon, and that the female—though stricken with amnesiac tendencies—was wiser all the while. That’s a good message for young women and adolescent girls to be given (as well as males). Especially given that they will face the domineering and dismissive tone that the male fish exudes during Finding Nemo. But with younger children, that ability to contextualize is less likely to exist, and instead, another message is transmitted by hours of realtime experience wherein the female component of the story is seen to be annoying, spoken to as if stupid, ignored, and forgetful.

Why do I love Zelda games? Many reasons. I must mention first the lush art environment and deeply engaging gaming dynamics. Further, the scoring is amazing. Unique, filled with interesting instruments (many I’d guess are from Japan, where Nintendo is based), and variations on themes adapted for smaller subgames, and the many different temples and locations within the game. The music made such an impression on me, I own and sometimes play the soundtrack for Majora’s Mask, though I cannot read the disc or the liner notes! I could write an entire blog post just on the scoring, and another just on the art.

In those senses, the 64 bit and up games are masterpieces. But equally (and sometimes more) rewarding is the messaging in many cases. I could write for a long time on how I love a game that for once does not pose the East as the Source of All Things Evil. The Eurocentric model of geographic morality is ubiquitous, from the Tolkien trilogy to just about any other fable that splashes on our screens or stacks up on our bookracks. Even so, the Japanese company is selling very much to a market that obviously prefers that blonde still equals Hero. Yet, while it relies on typical “light” vs “dark” for overall Good vs. Evil terminology and storytelling (e.g., “the hero wielded the golden power against the dark forces of Evil” etc), the game will break with that and have powerful, Good, dark-skinned (female) faeries, or otherwise upset such stereotypes.

To touch on that cultural note again, I enjoy how while the game is not “Asian” per se, many voices/dialects/exclamations as well as musical strains/instruments and even facial design in some cases (Grandmother, Orca, and others) carry the flavor of the land in which they were created. And I like that. There is a terrible lot of negative messaging in the US regarding any peoples and nations in the EAST. And it is so splintered and woven into so many pieces of media and literature that it is possible to inherit an entire weave of derision that you never planned on adopting. And I will not have that happen to my children whenever possible. These games may never utter a word about real-world Japanese or Chinese (and so on), but the influence of Asia is tangible, and positive.

Again, thinking of my girls, I enjoy that the game doesn’t use blood or gore, but dramatic orchestra stings and vivid, acrobatic swordplay with flashes of light and smoke when you strike down your opponents. Also, when you are engaged in meléé with opponents and knock them to the ground, you cannot strike again until they get up and turn to face you, in almost all cases.

I deeply appreciate the nuanced typing; like many villains to be found in the Asian realms of literature and cinema, the “bad guys” in Zelda are less polar characters than the villains in most Western storytelling. Some (like the troublesome Wind God, as well as Valoo the dragon to name two off the top of my head from Wind Waker) are not necessarily “evil” beings, but frustrated, or complex characters who may be good at some other time, or can become good at another part in the story. Even the very wicked Ganendorf, when confronted in The Forsaken Fortress, has a respectful talk with the still-weaker Link, and rather than smite him outright, flings him off to learn more and grow stronger so that a fair match will one day be possible. I find these depictions of humanity rewarding and important for my children to absorb. Far more useful than a world of Deciders who can divide people into Good Guys and Baddies.

In the Princess of Zelda line of games, wisdom is valued in Elders, and so is struggle to learn craft and gain that wisdom. There are many mentors and guides who are older than Link and more learned, and often his tasks involve training, or study, or journeys though which he can evolve and learn and grow stronger. I certainly don’t think playing video games is a substitute for pursuits of craft or knowledge in the world! But at least that messaging is there.

These elements (and many more) are not background. They only appear to be background. Meanwhile, they are instructing and instilling values and messages all the while. Especially in a young mind. That is my concern. Not just as a parent, and not just as a player, but as a person involved in video game creation, as well. (I am the Creative Director for Digital Stoneworks).

I wanted to take my time to write here about all the positive feelings I have about Zelda, because my real intent today is to speak about one role in Wind Waker that I feel violates my ideas of what is positive to show my daughters. However, if I only focused on that complaint, this post would feel lopsided, and be hugely unfair to the games.

Now that I’ve written about the many elements of the games I find superior, let me slow down and focus on the role of Medli, young Rito bird-girl who later discovers her greater role as Earth Sage. I suppose the reason I’m writing about it is because of how egregiously the role stands out.

Granted, the hero is a boy in the first place. I actually push back on this when reading the legend at the beginning of Wind Waker aloud to Luna, my four year old. It is so filled with male-affirming nobility and I don’t for a second feel the writers are intentionally slighting women…but all you need to be and feel slighted and thus develop a lower image of yourself as a person is to NOT see yourself represented over—and over and over again. That gap/absence/silence sends a strong message all by itself. Dora the Explorer (with her squeaky, shrieky voice) is not enough for me to present to my daughter. I want Luna (and Paloma), too, to imagine herself as a hero wielding a mighty blade, striking at the heart of Evil in a legendary quest!

So when the text reads something like “On a certain island, it became customary to garb boys in green when they came of age,” I will edit it as I read aloud, and change it to “It became customary to garb children in green…” And so on. I will take elements like that in stride, and yes, I can’t do it forever. One day Luna will realize I had been editing the telling of these stories, of course.

The Medli character is harder to take in stride.

She actually reminds me of the girl character in the first novel I wrote (one I didn’t publish); a fantasy novel that was springing off of the characters in the my first short book, spinning them into a narrative that lasted almost 300 pages.

This was when my thinking about women and men and the roles we are prescribed by the larger society was at a more fundamental place than it is today. In one of the passes my editor made through that book, she spoke to me about how the girl was a passive character, in place to facilitate the doings of the boy hero, and with her good feelings and value dependent on him. This was the first feedback I had received of that kind, and believe it or not, it was eye-opening to me. I saw immediately what she meant. I was…shocked is a strong word. But not by much! I was very taken aback. I had no desire to write such a flimsy character and send such messages to young women (or own children one day) and yet, there it was. I found my editor’s words extremely helpful, and an important step in the path I continue to walk on living a life and making a world wherein women and girls are restored their rightful power and respect. In fact, that revelation was one of the reasons I decided to shelve the book. Ultimately, it served best as a growing exercise, though it definitely contained some fantastic imagery and characters and ideas. But that story was written before a number of truths made themselves evident to my mind. Some writers are, perhaps, not as fortunate.

Medli, the Rito girl in Wind Waker may as well be a video game version of my never-to-see daylight female companion character. You really can’t even dream up a better example of a passive, dependent, female character than Medli. She is so perfectly demonstrative of the type, that perhaps it is good she exists, if for no other reason than to be used as a teaching tool!

Let’s take a look at how Medli presents in Wind Waker:

a) When you meet Medli (as Link) she needs your help to fly to a ledge she cannot reach on her own, and so you throw her into the air, which boosts her.

b) Later you help her discover her powers as Earth Sage. But as mighty as this role is, she cannot do it without you. She cannot even play the melody on her harp that cracks open the entrance without Link first “conducting” her with his wand.

c) In fact, Medli cannot even cross from one room to another unless you carry her over the threshold. If you forget to bring her, she stays behind, but not before exclaiming in a soft, surprised, distressed voice “Oh!”

d) The only time you can move her on her own is by using the Command Melody, which Link plays with his wand. This allows him, in a trance-like state, to control her body. The only other characters in the game Link uses this power on are stone statues.

e) The one room you cannot take Medli into is the final showdown fight in the Temple. It is “far too dangerous for her.” After you are done with the intense battle, she can step up as Earth Sage.

f) When Medli gives Link important  hints as to how to best enlist her help to solve puzzles, she does so with an apologetic tone, begging forgiveness for assuming so much as to even suggest those things to Link!

g) You either summon Medli to move with you by running up close with Link and “calling” her (Link shouts “Come on!” and she follows), or you simply pick her up and carry her around. Which is what you do most of the time, as when she is following you, she can get stuck, or lost.

It may be tempting, even to assume meaning into her name: Medli. It sounds and looks like “meddle,” no? But here, I’d warn against reading too much into names. The names in Zelda games are often unfamiliar, and I’m guessing that may be due to the cross-cultural production of them.

So, you need Medli to fulfill this part of the game, but she soon becomes a hindrance to you. You end up resenting her character’s presence at times. Who wouldn’t? She cannot act for herself, she is one more thing for Link to worry about, carry around, and rescue from Floor Masters, when they grab her. She feels like a drag, a weight on your action. Obviously, this is a terrible role for a girl to emulate, or see presented. And it echoes current negative typing for women in just about the worst ways possible.

If Medli is to be the Earth Sage, why not use that part of the game to demonstrate her powers or aptitudes in All Things Earthly? Why not have Link be the one who is by her side, who aids her, who is happy to help as she ascends to her proper position? The thing is, it is just as possible to create these roles as any other.

Obviously, we can easily find signs aside from Medli that this is not the perfect game to show young girls what they are capable of—even if only in fantasy worlds—such as the most fundamental of narrative elements. After all, this began as a story about a Princess being rescued! And even in Wind Waker, the crux of the game revolves around Link rescuing or protecting various girls and women—from his younger sister, to Medli, and more. (Though to be fair, the leader of the pirate crew in Wind Waker is a firm, fierce woman not a fifth the size of her largest crewmembers. So again, the nuances exist.)

Further (and perhaps game makers might offer this as a sloppy justification for such pro-male/light-on-female-hero narratives), I doubt the target audience for these games is young girls! Then again, perhaps part of the reason girls typically do not play video games as much as boys is not due to biological wiring, or even so much to social conditioning. Perhaps it is simply for reasons such as I outline here. It’s no fun to play games where you don’t get to be the good guy. And nothing is more disappointing than seeing games or media that insist a girl’s biggest concern should be her prettiness, or other such decorative and non-heroic, non-behavioral attributes. Let the little girls draw swords, I say.

Ultimately, Wind Waker, and all the Zelda games, are breathtaking. And in many ways, they push against type—at least the typing enlisted in the USA. Medli’s character so stands out simply because she falls short—to my way of seeing things—of the very high level of art infused into so much of the Legend of Zelda games.

saw a doctor finally about the stomach thing and he put me on some retrinaline or whatever, designed to cut down on the amount of stomach acid that is produced, and hope that stops the burning font that’s been spilling for six years now but i wonder. i often feel as if i am ready to burn, am burning, need air, room, to burn hotter, brighter, fiercer, cut loose from the restraints all the world and my own body place on me…i sort of thought the condition was tied to my emotional/mental self but despite my poetic imaginations of psychic immolation, i’m excited to think these pills may help. i’m so sick of dealing with these symptoms, been dealing with this since 2003 in brooklyn when i was commuting 20 hours a week, three trains each day to westchester and got so stressed my stomach began eating my own body alive. i wondered tho if it was the espresso. i was never sure. either way, its been a long time i’ve been living with it…acid threads in the saliva…constant wash of stomach acid ended up weakening a tooth of mine until one day i bit down on some damn nutty bread and it broke right in half, weakened another crown til it broke and also made a filling fall out…it was a scary time i was like what is going ON??  felt like i was jeff goldbloom in The Fly til i figured it out. after all, i used to hit on a mylanta bottle like mekhi phifer in Clockers hit the yoo hoo. if you are kicking up that much stomach acid, its floating around your mouth nearly all the time which is sort of exciting to think about. does it give me superpowered bites? i know it does. one of my teeth is sharp like a dagger. laced with acid, even. and i have pretty strong jaws. i think i like to freak myself out with thoughts like this. i mean that in a good way of course.