haruko's bruises

haruko's bruises

millie ishihara

millie ishihara

shintoryu

Spent some time in Honbu with Nakayama-san. We worked through the Shintoryu kenjutsu kumitachi. I haven't done them in a while (since last summer, really) so I was pretty rusty, and kept confusing the omote and ura (basic and advanced) techniques, but in the end things came together.
Those are some sweet kata; the timing and countering is really critical, and the centerline theory is obvious yet subtle. Most helpful in general partnerwork, and tough to do well at speed. Wish there were more folks who could practice with me, but few members are interested enough and skilled enough to learn them yet.
Ended early and grabbed dinner at Lucky before heading home. Eggplant curry with deep-fried garlic cloves: magical!

breakfast

I have a rule (ok, I have many rules, this is just one of them) about breakfast:
the temperature of the breakfast is reversely proportional to the weather.
So, during the cold, dark winter mornings I eat overly burnt bagels, scrambled eggs with tomato, and occasionally instant oatmeal.
But on a beautiful morning like today; post-rain, not a cloud in the blue sky nor any hints of the Tokyo smog, light wind, bright yellow sun, and already 25°C before 7am, breakfast needs to be cold.
So I had: a blend of foreign granola cereals (something possibly Canadian and another one from Europe, maybe Germany or perhaps Denmark?) with domestic soy milk, and perfectly ripe green kiwi fruit spooned into bite-sized chunks.
For those of you (especially YOU) who do the nosed-turned-up at soy milk, I have two responses:
1) Cow milk tastes like ass. Never liked it. Ask my mom; I'd only drink it when mixed liberally with chocolate or, even better, strawberry.
2) Even if milk didn't taste like ass, I still wouldn't drink it because of the incredibly painful things it does to me. That's right, as you've probably heard before: I am a lactard.

mona bystedt


Mona Bystedt, originally uploaded by renfield.

Finally got some photos of Tomo and Mieko's lovely daughter Mona born last week.

sore

Went with Hiroko to her Fighting Fitness class tonight. 60 minutes of non-stop kicking and punching, lead by a Kyokushin Karate instructor with no body-fat. This ain't no Tai-bo, this was serious cardiovascular pain. As expected I am:
1) Totally out of shape
2) Totally lacking in coordination

spring

Spring it is. Perfect walkabout weather, so I went outside to meet hiroko downtown.
Cop cars everywhere at the corner, pool of blood in the street, scooter pulled up onto the sidewalk. Looks like someone tried to run a red light and got smacked and dragged around the corner. Nasty business.
Bussed down to Shibuya, saw the amusing Imperial rightists blathering about Japan's lost military glory (nice hair, guys!), met Hiroko, did some shopping -- new sneaks and sweatpants for the lady -- and walked up through Aoyama and down to Nishiazabu. Had some tea and snacks before cabbing home, getting the old shave-and-a-haircut-and-facial-massage. Then the traditional Japanese Sunday evening feast that we always cook. Damn, I love eating.

rightists

rightists