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My forearms are getting chorded again, I guess that's what happens when you do nothing but chop vegetables and swing swords and weights. My foils are boxed up and ready to move.
Unfortunately I don't really have the space I need to practice flicks unless I cleaned out my garage.
I don't really want to work with foils anyway.
I want to stick with something heavier.
I need more weight.
On my legs, on my body on my shoulders. All the power is in my forearms and wrists. All my speed and finesse is in the swing but it doesn't CRUSH! with despair.
It cleaves.
It's too refined. Too much theory not enough raw.
I regret to inform you all that my heart is still on vacation.
Maybe I need to spend more time in an electricless house.
I know I'm a month overdue on bills again... I know I can cover it, but I can't cover what's coming next.
I'm terrified right now.
I need this awful job.
I need to get by.
I need to survive.
...still got my gun. Still got my ruthless crazed determination
the kind that tells a cop to go fuck himself when he's holding a weapon to your head.
Lately my eye won't stop twitching ... my arm won't stop aching, when I think about those things.
What am I supposed to do?
Pretend I'm okay?
