Went over to Tony's for a BBQ. Met Hiroko in Shibuya and single-handedly revived the Japanese economy by being good consumers and inhaling various products from Muji, Loft, etc.
We grabbed some salad fixin's and got the #55 bus to Tony's.
As is tradition, Tony kept his guests (and himself) plied with wine while Hiroko and I took over his kitchen. Tony has 9 cutting boards, but his knives are as dull as spoons. Tony has a brand new oven that had never been used because when I opened it I found the shrink-wrapped instruction booklet and a note from the repairman who installed it, dated July 2002. Tony has 2 bottles and one bag of salt, but hardly any sugar. Tony has stupendously good French coffee, but only one coffee filter.
As she tends to do, Hiroko worked her magic. Scrounging olive oil, balsamico vinegar, and sugar, she turned bacon, pine nuts, and Nancy's garlic chips into a stupendous dressing for a spinach and bell pepper salad that had the crowd in fits. With the BBQ belching out smoke as well as steaks and chicken, I took Tony's pasta, grated some gouda cheese and turned it into a feeble attempt at baked ziti, and the feast was on.
We rounded out the evening by watching Charlie's Angels on TV. Besides Kevin failing in his attempt to leap the couch in a single bound (Tony was quick with the salt and the red wine on the carpet did no damage), it was a lovely evening.
visions of grander than I really am
Dream #1: I was castigating The Israeli and Palestinian leaders, at length, for their failure to reach a viable peace agreement.
Dream #2: spiders that looked like mushrooms crawling up the back of my legs. I woke up with a start to find Hiroko getting out of bed, brushing back the mosquito net that rubbing teasingly along my calves.
Dream #2: spiders that looked like mushrooms crawling up the back of my legs. I woke up with a start to find Hiroko getting out of bed, brushing back the mosquito net that rubbing teasingly along my calves.
reality of lameness
Only two weeks to go before the Tokyo tournament, and I am in trouble. Last year I was in the unranked division, and by some strange twist of fate, luck, and promotion, this year I am in the 4dan/5dan division, the most advanced division. In general, I am pretty hosed, as everyone else in the division, including all my instructors, outrank and outclass me.
Tanaka-sensei ran us through all 20 forms and then left us to our own devices. It was humid and we were all sweating away nicely. Orita-san kept up a regular stream of complaints every time she could catch me, but I didn't give her much of a chance as I ran through my five forms over and over again, every time comparing my own movements to the movements inside my head and realizing just how much more I have to learn. Tanaka-sensei was helping Kanai-san with the last form, shiho. It's nasty: surrounded by enemies you attack in four directions. The cuts are tough, connecting them without leaving yourself open is even harder, and cutting convincingly, with plenty of hip and reach, is nigh impossible. I can't do that form more than a few times before my right arm feels like it will fall off. I focused more on the two seated forms, inchuyo and yochuin, as well as musogaeshi; I keep losing my balance over-extending on the turn to cut behind after the initial forward strike.
We kept practicing well past 9:00, and finally I had to stop because I was completely dehydrated and my right arm would move any more. No sense in killing myself, I've still got two weeks.
Tanaka-sensei ran us through all 20 forms and then left us to our own devices. It was humid and we were all sweating away nicely. Orita-san kept up a regular stream of complaints every time she could catch me, but I didn't give her much of a chance as I ran through my five forms over and over again, every time comparing my own movements to the movements inside my head and realizing just how much more I have to learn. Tanaka-sensei was helping Kanai-san with the last form, shiho. It's nasty: surrounded by enemies you attack in four directions. The cuts are tough, connecting them without leaving yourself open is even harder, and cutting convincingly, with plenty of hip and reach, is nigh impossible. I can't do that form more than a few times before my right arm feels like it will fall off. I focused more on the two seated forms, inchuyo and yochuin, as well as musogaeshi; I keep losing my balance over-extending on the turn to cut behind after the initial forward strike.
We kept practicing well past 9:00, and finally I had to stop because I was completely dehydrated and my right arm would move any more. No sense in killing myself, I've still got two weeks.
woo woo!
From Joel:
This is hysterical.
Step 1) Watch this
(pay particularly close attention to the demonstration)
Step 2) Then mix it up
This is hysterical.
Step 1) Watch this
(pay particularly close attention to the demonstration)
Step 2) Then mix it up
tokyo the most expensive city in the world
Just in case there were any doubts, Tokyo is indeed the most expensive city in the world.
Hundreds of Americans, largely in finance and banking, are moving back to the United States this summer from Tokyo, often ordered home by stateside managers who don't think Japan's stagnant economy is worth the high cost of maintaining workers there.
For those expatriates still in Tokyo, neither deflation nor that softening housing market has helped much so far. Prices there are still 26 percent higher than in New York.
Hundreds of Americans, largely in finance and banking, are moving back to the United States this summer from Tokyo, often ordered home by stateside managers who don't think Japan's stagnant economy is worth the high cost of maintaining workers there.
For those expatriates still in Tokyo, neither deflation nor that softening housing market has helped much so far. Prices there are still 26 percent higher than in New York.
from dave barry by way of Hammer
I guess sometimes you don't really think about your domain name...until it's too late:
http://www.powergenitalia.com/
http://www.whorepresents.com/
The first one I can forgive as English isn't most Italians' first language.
But the second one? No one in that whole organization said "Hmm, why do so many pimps and johns keep emailing us?"
http://www.powergenitalia.com/
http://www.whorepresents.com/
The first one I can forgive as English isn't most Italians' first language.
But the second one? No one in that whole organization said "Hmm, why do so many pimps and johns keep emailing us?"
momoyo and kensuke
Went to Shimura-sanchome on the Mita line, ostensibly to see Satchan's newborn son Kensuke, but really I was just there to play with Momoyo, who's now 6 years old, in first grade, and missing her two front teeth (making ramen slurping really easy.)
Hiroko and I met everyone at the station and immediately went to Toys 'R Us to get stuff for Kensuke, then hit the Royal Host for lunch. Momo, having the appetite of an old man instead of a six year-old, opted for ramen.
After lunch we went over to see Kensuke and parents, and as all the females reminisced and gossiped (they're all from the same town that Hiroko grew up in) Momo and I draw in her coloring book and poked Kensuke until he gurgled and made other entertaining noises.
Hiroko and I met everyone at the station and immediately went to Toys 'R Us to get stuff for Kensuke, then hit the Royal Host for lunch. Momo, having the appetite of an old man instead of a six year-old, opted for ramen.
After lunch we went over to see Kensuke and parents, and as all the females reminisced and gossiped (they're all from the same town that Hiroko grew up in) Momo and I draw in her coloring book and poked Kensuke until he gurgled and made other entertaining noises.
judge not lest ye be judg'd
Had a judge's training seminar this evening for the upcoming 6th Annual Kenkakubanrai. I will most definitely screw up the flag-lifting and point counting and victor announcing, most definitely.
After run through a couple of practices including how to receive and return the flags, how to roll them up, how to raise them, count them, and other fine points of judging, we cruised to one of the cheap eats places near Shinbashi Station. The sashimi was thawed, everything was fried in the same oil, the plates, chairs, and tables were small, the prices ridiculously low, and in general a good time was had by all. Kanai-bashocho and Tanaka-sensei are gearing up for their wedding, which I will unfortunately miss because it's the day I leave for San Francisco.
After a couple of beers and a carafe of wine, Sanno-sensei told me, after hearing that I was only 30 years old, that I severely lack in shinayakasa; suppleness, flexibility; elasticity. He says I'm too young to be stomping and thumping around like an old man, and I should work on being more like the green bamboo that bends at impossible angles but never breaks and always snaps back into place. He has a point. I've spent a bit too much time trying to be strong and fast, specifically trying to give tatami rolls what for, and if I get into the habit of being rigid and cold, I'll never shake it. So my homework from now on is more bend, less thump.
After run through a couple of practices including how to receive and return the flags, how to roll them up, how to raise them, count them, and other fine points of judging, we cruised to one of the cheap eats places near Shinbashi Station. The sashimi was thawed, everything was fried in the same oil, the plates, chairs, and tables were small, the prices ridiculously low, and in general a good time was had by all. Kanai-bashocho and Tanaka-sensei are gearing up for their wedding, which I will unfortunately miss because it's the day I leave for San Francisco.
After a couple of beers and a carafe of wine, Sanno-sensei told me, after hearing that I was only 30 years old, that I severely lack in shinayakasa; suppleness, flexibility; elasticity. He says I'm too young to be stomping and thumping around like an old man, and I should work on being more like the green bamboo that bends at impossible angles but never breaks and always snaps back into place. He has a point. I've spent a bit too much time trying to be strong and fast, specifically trying to give tatami rolls what for, and if I get into the habit of being rigid and cold, I'll never shake it. So my homework from now on is more bend, less thump.
sai and jo
Jesse asked me on the Sword Forum International boards if we could do some sai when I go out to California in July for an iai seminar. At first I said no because I don't know any sai and am not qualified to teach. But at practice tonight I was talking to Hoshina-san and Yoshida-sensei, and since Hoshina-san is 2dan in sai they decided I had to learn the tachi (sword) half of some sai forms so that we could at least demo. And while we're at it I might as well learn some tachi for a couple of jo forms as well.
So for three hours I got pummelled by various folks trying to teach me the sai kata geki, hangetsu, and sankyo, as well as some jo work I absolutely can't remember. After having various bits of wood and metal slammed into my head, solar plexus, wrists, arms, and chin, I have a new respect for these weapons.
Now if I can just remember the moves well enough to not make a complete fool of myself...
So for three hours I got pummelled by various folks trying to teach me the sai kata geki, hangetsu, and sankyo, as well as some jo work I absolutely can't remember. After having various bits of wood and metal slammed into my head, solar plexus, wrists, arms, and chin, I have a new respect for these weapons.
Now if I can just remember the moves well enough to not make a complete fool of myself...
bruce lee kicks butt
From stevie: http://www.card1004.com/card/bsjj/53.swf No idea what the Korean writing says, but this is cool.
dream
I think the combination of seeing Matrix: Reloaded and watching the news coverage of the middle east has effected my sleep.
Had a dream: I was in the run-down lobby of a dingy bank, or maybe it was a hospital. It was full of depressed, dirty, hopeless people sitting on grimy old waiting benches. Babies cried. Old people stared off into nothing. I stood near the back, looking over the scene, detached. Suddenly a young man runs in, pulls out a revolver, and starts shooting. Panic ensues; people dive for cover and run. The images unfold in bullet-time slow motion. I run towards him as he hurries to reload. Spent shells fall, hand in his pocket, I get closer. One bullet chambered, two, three...I close in. Four bullets, five, and I am near the wall he stands against. I reach out towards the umbrella rack, my fingers close around the long handle of a sledge hammer. I spin, lifting the heavy head of the hammer, adding my right hand to the grip, accelerating in dust-flinging slow motion. He snaps closed the loaded revolver and wheels the barrel towards me. The sledge catches him square in the chest, knocking him into the wall. Freeze. Rewind.
Suddenly a young man runs in, pulls out a revolver, and starts shooting. Panic ensues; people dive for cover and run. The images unfold in bullet-time slow motion. I run towards him as he hurries to reload...this time I grab an umbrella from the rack, noticing how much lighter is is than the sledge hammer. I deftly jab the umbrella two, three, four times into his throat, chest, arm. Freeze. Rewind. I grab the umbrella, spin it around and hook his gun-holding hand with the curved umbrella handle. He struggles to free his hand, ensnaring him even deeper into my umbrella-joint lock. Freeze. Rewind. He swings his arm towards me, and just as the barrel is in line with my head, I slide forward and under, my tactical folder knife catching him in the wrist, elbow, armpit. Freeze. Rewind. I drive the serrated bowie deep into his forearm, slicing it open elbow to palm. Freeze. Rewind. From across the room I dive, John Woo, emptying my 9mm clip into the wall and him as he lunges for the counter. His shots turning the stuffing of the fake leather benches into clouds of dust. Freeze. Rewind. I spin as he fires his last shot wildly in my direction, no aim, panicking. He reloads as I lunge straight at him, hurdling over the benches. First row. One bullet chambered. Second row, two bullets chambered. As he slaps the revolver into place and raises his eyes and gun to face my I'm already drawing my sword, halfway over the last bench, right leg extended. I draw and cut as my right foot comes down, catching his right arm clean on the rising cut. His hand, still holding the gun, drops harmlessly and clatters on the floor at our feet. My blade continues arcing across his face, he turns and falls.
I wake up. No more TV or movies for a while, methinks.
Had a dream: I was in the run-down lobby of a dingy bank, or maybe it was a hospital. It was full of depressed, dirty, hopeless people sitting on grimy old waiting benches. Babies cried. Old people stared off into nothing. I stood near the back, looking over the scene, detached. Suddenly a young man runs in, pulls out a revolver, and starts shooting. Panic ensues; people dive for cover and run. The images unfold in bullet-time slow motion. I run towards him as he hurries to reload. Spent shells fall, hand in his pocket, I get closer. One bullet chambered, two, three...I close in. Four bullets, five, and I am near the wall he stands against. I reach out towards the umbrella rack, my fingers close around the long handle of a sledge hammer. I spin, lifting the heavy head of the hammer, adding my right hand to the grip, accelerating in dust-flinging slow motion. He snaps closed the loaded revolver and wheels the barrel towards me. The sledge catches him square in the chest, knocking him into the wall. Freeze. Rewind.
Suddenly a young man runs in, pulls out a revolver, and starts shooting. Panic ensues; people dive for cover and run. The images unfold in bullet-time slow motion. I run towards him as he hurries to reload...this time I grab an umbrella from the rack, noticing how much lighter is is than the sledge hammer. I deftly jab the umbrella two, three, four times into his throat, chest, arm. Freeze. Rewind. I grab the umbrella, spin it around and hook his gun-holding hand with the curved umbrella handle. He struggles to free his hand, ensnaring him even deeper into my umbrella-joint lock. Freeze. Rewind. He swings his arm towards me, and just as the barrel is in line with my head, I slide forward and under, my tactical folder knife catching him in the wrist, elbow, armpit. Freeze. Rewind. I drive the serrated bowie deep into his forearm, slicing it open elbow to palm. Freeze. Rewind. From across the room I dive, John Woo, emptying my 9mm clip into the wall and him as he lunges for the counter. His shots turning the stuffing of the fake leather benches into clouds of dust. Freeze. Rewind. I spin as he fires his last shot wildly in my direction, no aim, panicking. He reloads as I lunge straight at him, hurdling over the benches. First row. One bullet chambered. Second row, two bullets chambered. As he slaps the revolver into place and raises his eyes and gun to face my I'm already drawing my sword, halfway over the last bench, right leg extended. I draw and cut as my right foot comes down, catching his right arm clean on the rising cut. His hand, still holding the gun, drops harmlessly and clatters on the floor at our feet. My blade continues arcing across his face, he turns and falls.
I wake up. No more TV or movies for a while, methinks.
lethalo
Here I am wasting my time, dedicating my life to studying a 300+ year-old traditional Japanese martial art, when in fact for only $49.95 I can learn lethalo, "Truly the world's deadliest and most effective self-defense system ever devised." In four short courses I will master unbeatable fighting techniques! What the hell am I waiting for?!
japanese cops
I admit, like everyone else in Japan (especially foreigners), I belittle the Japanese police. They seem under-prepared, ill-qualified to carry firearms, and are generally useful only for giving directions and watching helplessly as right-wing trucks drive slowly in circles blasting nationalist theme songs at ear-splitting levels.
But now I take it all back. I got a call from Officer Kobayashi in Arakawa-ku. Arakawa-ku is as far north and east as you can get from my south-western Tokyo location and still have a Tokyo area code. Seems he found the Mighty Steed. Not only did he find it, but he put it in a police van and drove all the way across Tokyo to give it back to me. So now, the Mighty Steed sits next to the Mightier Steed. It's missing the left mirror and the grandma handcovers, as well as the front basket and the helmet, but it stills purrs and rattles like it used to.
Two small helmets where found with the bike, ticketed for being parked illegally. A plate check showed that the bike was reported stolen. Obviously some teenagers were enjoying the freedom that the Mighty Steed provides. But how the hell it got all the way across Tokyo is beyond even Officer Kobayashi's comprehension.
Good timing though, Masa's bike (the one I got from Moto that I used to ride before the Mighty Steed) is nearing the end of usefulness. So I'll stop by the Ward Office tomorrow morning, transfer the Mighty Steed to Masa, and consider it all in a day's police work.
Now if they could just get the right-wing trucks to shut up.
But now I take it all back. I got a call from Officer Kobayashi in Arakawa-ku. Arakawa-ku is as far north and east as you can get from my south-western Tokyo location and still have a Tokyo area code. Seems he found the Mighty Steed. Not only did he find it, but he put it in a police van and drove all the way across Tokyo to give it back to me. So now, the Mighty Steed sits next to the Mightier Steed. It's missing the left mirror and the grandma handcovers, as well as the front basket and the helmet, but it stills purrs and rattles like it used to.
Two small helmets where found with the bike, ticketed for being parked illegally. A plate check showed that the bike was reported stolen. Obviously some teenagers were enjoying the freedom that the Mighty Steed provides. But how the hell it got all the way across Tokyo is beyond even Officer Kobayashi's comprehension.
Good timing though, Masa's bike (the one I got from Moto that I used to ride before the Mighty Steed) is nearing the end of usefulness. So I'll stop by the Ward Office tomorrow morning, transfer the Mighty Steed to Masa, and consider it all in a day's police work.
Now if they could just get the right-wing trucks to shut up.
reload this
Got the gang together and saw Matrix: Reloaded and the Virgin Cinema in Roppongi Hills. Ah, caramel popcorn, TXH sound, huge screen, comfy and leg room, cup holders in the armrests, all reserved seats, and a great flick. Must have soundtrack. Must have DVD. Must see final in the trilogy asap!
After the movie Hiroko and I and Will and his girlie got some pizza and then some icecream at Hobsons at the Nishi Azabu corner. It was a pleasantly muggy evening, so Hiroko and I walked back home through Azabu.
After the movie Hiroko and I and Will and his girlie got some pizza and then some icecream at Hobsons at the Nishi Azabu corner. It was a pleasantly muggy evening, so Hiroko and I walked back home through Azabu.
chop chop
Went to iai in Motoyawata and did some cutting. Spent most of the time helping the other students cut -- some of them had never cut before, others had to work on their angle, hip use, etc. Got some cutting in myself and manage to nail 2 out of 3 horizontal cuts from a seated draw. Think I may have finally figured it out, but I still have much to work on. It's a fun group, so I'll probably be cutting with them at least once a month.
what's in a name?
I have been named. Niina-gosoke has given most of the instructors proper 'iai' names (his is of course Niina Gyokusui Toyoaki; no idea what his "real" name is.)
My name is Kuroda Renjosai Yonekuni
Kuroda is of course my last name ("Blackfield")
Ren is also my name, written as I tend to write it with the character 'hasu' (lotus flower, traditional Zen Buddhist symbolism, Buddha is often shown seated on a lotus blossom)
jo means 'to exceed', and sai means 'to purify mind and body', so Renjosai = "to exceed even the lotus in developing a pure mind and body"
Yone is the character 'bei' meaning rice, and kuni is the Japanese character 'hou' meaning country. In Japanese, America is written as 'rice country' (why they didn't use 'wheat country' is beyond me, but anyway the idea is 'rice' = 'food' = 'prosperity', America is the land of prosperity) So Yonekuni means 'he from America'
Regularly just Kuroda Renjosai is used, and since most folks just call me ren anyway, not much changes. But for official use (on certificates, etc.) the full name is used.
Now if I can convince my company to redo the Japanese on my business cards!
Practice was brutal, as always. Tanaka-sensei came again and after running through all 20 forms, we each worked on our own things, with Tanaka-sensei coming around and giving advice. Of course we all practiced the five forms we need for the upcoming competition end of June. I'm very nervous because I'm in the 4/5dan (highest) division, and besides squaring off against the best, that group includes my own instructor, Kanai-bashocho. I really want to do my best and see how far I can get, but do I beat my own instructor? Niina-gosoke always tell us "get better than your instructors! Your job as student is to excel past them!", but can I really beat her? I mean, first of all she's DAMN good, second of all she has the LaserEyeDeathBeam: one glance from her can freeze a raging bull in its tracks.
After the regular 2 hours, Niina-gosoke schooled us again in his Hour Of Pain. He showed us what the final diagonal cut of the first form shin is supposed to look like: the hands come out and down from overhead straight, just like with a typical straight down cut, but the wrists subtly angle the sword tip out so that the cut catches the opponent not straight in the forehead, but in the base of the neck and cuts down at a 30 degree angle through to under the ribs on the other side. The trick is you can't see that the cut is coming in diagonally. When the cut is down the hands are off to the side; that's the only indication that the cut was diagonal not straight. No telegraphing a diagonal cut by moving the hands to the side as the cut starts, or obviously opening the sword tip to the side to make the cutting angle. How the HELL do I do that?
My name is Kuroda Renjosai Yonekuni
Kuroda is of course my last name ("Blackfield")
Ren is also my name, written as I tend to write it with the character 'hasu' (lotus flower, traditional Zen Buddhist symbolism, Buddha is often shown seated on a lotus blossom)
jo means 'to exceed', and sai means 'to purify mind and body', so Renjosai = "to exceed even the lotus in developing a pure mind and body"
Yone is the character 'bei' meaning rice, and kuni is the Japanese character 'hou' meaning country. In Japanese, America is written as 'rice country' (why they didn't use 'wheat country' is beyond me, but anyway the idea is 'rice' = 'food' = 'prosperity', America is the land of prosperity) So Yonekuni means 'he from America'
Regularly just Kuroda Renjosai is used, and since most folks just call me ren anyway, not much changes. But for official use (on certificates, etc.) the full name is used.
Now if I can convince my company to redo the Japanese on my business cards!
Practice was brutal, as always. Tanaka-sensei came again and after running through all 20 forms, we each worked on our own things, with Tanaka-sensei coming around and giving advice. Of course we all practiced the five forms we need for the upcoming competition end of June. I'm very nervous because I'm in the 4/5dan (highest) division, and besides squaring off against the best, that group includes my own instructor, Kanai-bashocho. I really want to do my best and see how far I can get, but do I beat my own instructor? Niina-gosoke always tell us "get better than your instructors! Your job as student is to excel past them!", but can I really beat her? I mean, first of all she's DAMN good, second of all she has the LaserEyeDeathBeam: one glance from her can freeze a raging bull in its tracks.
After the regular 2 hours, Niina-gosoke schooled us again in his Hour Of Pain. He showed us what the final diagonal cut of the first form shin is supposed to look like: the hands come out and down from overhead straight, just like with a typical straight down cut, but the wrists subtly angle the sword tip out so that the cut catches the opponent not straight in the forehead, but in the base of the neck and cuts down at a 30 degree angle through to under the ribs on the other side. The trick is you can't see that the cut is coming in diagonally. When the cut is down the hands are off to the side; that's the only indication that the cut was diagonal not straight. No telegraphing a diagonal cut by moving the hands to the side as the cut starts, or obviously opening the sword tip to the side to make the cutting angle. How the HELL do I do that?
cute must die
Small pets are all the rage these days in Tokyo. Miniature whatever dogs leashed on yarn, carried in the Gucci bag like any other accessory, dressed up with adorable outfits that match their human owner's leather goods. Even cats have cute outfits for dressing up.
I believe animals belong in the wild. Acceptably domesticated animals should provide humanity with milk and or meat. The entertainment value of animal companionship is, to me, quite low. Specifically for dogs though, I believe a dog only qualifies if it is capable of being horse-ridden by a 4-year old child. For that, the dog must be big. I mean BIG, like a chain for a leash big, knock down a full-grown man big, taller and faster than most bicycles big, fit a whole soccerball in the mouth big. And slobbery. Nothing like a big, slobbery dog sitting on the curb, watching passers-by and chomping on thigh bone. The only remotely acceptable accessory for said big dog is a bandana tied around the neck. That's it. No sailor outfit, no rain coat, no hat and sunglasses. It's a dog for goodness sakes.
I believe animals belong in the wild. Acceptably domesticated animals should provide humanity with milk and or meat. The entertainment value of animal companionship is, to me, quite low. Specifically for dogs though, I believe a dog only qualifies if it is capable of being horse-ridden by a 4-year old child. For that, the dog must be big. I mean BIG, like a chain for a leash big, knock down a full-grown man big, taller and faster than most bicycles big, fit a whole soccerball in the mouth big. And slobbery. Nothing like a big, slobbery dog sitting on the curb, watching passers-by and chomping on thigh bone. The only remotely acceptable accessory for said big dog is a bandana tied around the neck. That's it. No sailor outfit, no rain coat, no hat and sunglasses. It's a dog for goodness sakes.
big turnout
Had 11 students in class tonight. Misawa-kun showed up so I had him run the beginners through the first couple of forms while I worked with the others. We used wooden swords and played with some of the trickier forms, trying to figure out what the opponent is actually doing in order for you to move the way the kata dictates. Fun to almost clobber each other, and very helpful in visualizing the opponent.
sco/linux ?
For those who have a hard time understanding the sco/linux debacle of copyright hesaidshesaid, here's a helpful page that explains the issues in simple, clear terms: The Dukes of Hazzard.
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