Skip to main content

Dreams

Im always most lucid before exhaustion takes over completely and snatches away my presence of mind. Whenever Ive had a life altering decision to make with seemingly unfathomable ramifications if I chose wrong, the answer presents itself clearly and unquestionably a few seconds before I fall under the embrace of sleep. Im not sure why this is, but some questions in life will never be answered, no matter how many books you read on any number of diverse, eclectic subjects. You can pray until God reveals himself and tells you to shut the fuck up, you can stay awake and prolong your chronic fatigue until the desire to slumber beats your head in and forces you to succumb to your bed, and you can ponder the potential answer until your last few brain cells have died from over work, and still be no closer to the answer you seek. This is good I suppose, because what is life if not a constant, Sisyphean search for meaning, contentment, and personal fullfilment? If we knew all of the answers upfront what purpose would there be to any of it? The entire point of life is to bleed, to perspire, to struggle and to suffer. The path of the superior man and woman isnt a leisurely stroll, with the ills of the world that are meant to be endured held at bay by wealth and privilege. The path of the superior person is jagged, rocky and bereft of any comfort. We pit ourselves against adversity daily, because the skin that the thorns and barbs of life tears off isnt replaced by more falliable flesh. With each hole the world leaves on us, iron and steel are grafted in its place. Our character, a direct byproduct of our trials, battles fought daily in the hellish furnace of life, is strengthened by repeated effort against our weaker selves, constant exposure numbing us to the so called pain and misery of the reality we inhabit. In the words of Ori Hoffmenkler, writer of "The Warrior Diet", "Life in paradise should be rugged." I couldnt agree more. We werent meant to be nobility among our fellow men, our lives bereft of ultimately beneficial agony because of the protection offered by gold and silver. We were meant to be lean, sharp, hard and, most importantly, strong. To alloe your material and financial wealth to accumulate at the expense of the well being, vitality, and appearance of your body us a crime that should be punishable by fine and excommunication. Be strong of body, mind and spirit. Fast daily and eat like a king at the end of the ordeal. Exercise as often as possible. Do your pushups. Read a book a week. Pray. Simple, incredibly easy to implement. Now do it.

Eating one meal a day has been the greatest health conscious decision Ive made since the first day I tried to stand on my hands. My body, with the digestive tract unencumbered by food that requires digestion, is alert and electrified during the morning, afternoon, and into the evening before I break my fast. In the absence of calories, carbohydrates, proteins and fats to synthesize into fuel, my body instead uses stored fat and glycogen to provide me with energy. This practice, which I originally adopted because my body fat percentage got a little too close fo 10% for my liking, has transformed my body into a veritable fireplace. My meal, and any snacks I occasionally consume over the course of the day as my body demands them, are quickly, expertly and efficiently broken down and tossed aside by my body. This thermogenic effect keeps me lean and muscular, in spite of the fact that I usually get 4 hours of sleep and live on little more than hamburgers and whiskey. Combined with fastidious exercise, the effects are multiplied tenfold, allowing me to grow lean muscle and increase my relative strength levels. My one meal normally consists of In-N-Out Burger, further deepening my love for the restaurant. I regularly consume more than 3000 calories in a meal, so any place that can give me that for less than $20 has my instant admiration and respect. Theres a satiated feeling that comes over you while youre eating your main meal, and a selfish sense of contentment following its finish. Of course, the peanut gallery will always chime in and tell me how I need to eat 6 meals a day, in addition to supplementation, in order to lose weight. Funny how the "bodybuilderz" that follow that plan and espouse its superiority are interchangeable and, with no exception or deviation from the norm, are always fat, weak and miserable. In the end, you have to do what works for you, and Ive found my secret.

In Virginia, my fitness plan was simple, almost absurdly basic and Spartan. For cardio, I walked. Everywhere. There were people living in the Section 8 housing by the base that used to compliment me for my dedication. I had to laugh because I never had any, I just had to leave base for the sake of my sanity. If you had no car and wanted a semblance of a life in Virginia, youd better be ready to walk. 8 miles a day was a good leg day. Neither my friends nor myself ever complained about the insane conditions and the general malaise that seemed to blanket the entire state because we were either too sweaty, too tired, or too drunk to care. For my upper body I did handstand pushups. This exercise has become my namesake apparently, and for good reason, as its literally all I do. I did these in the snow at friends houses, in hotel rooms across the country, and here, in whatever room Im currently occupying. Shapely, thick shoulders, dense biceps and triceps, and rugged, veiny forearms are my reward, one Ill always be thankful for. I was given the gift of fitness wherever I go, and I plan to use it.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

My Return To The Field

How often must I remain here? I must have died unexpectedly, and my wandering spirit, aura thick with malevolence and anguish, refuses to acknowledge my own death. Indeed, I have become a ghost, cursed to haunt diners, coffeeshops, bars and beaches, pen brandished and book unsheathed. I've grown so distant from others that Im more statue than Man, yet where this separation once stung painfully, it now soothes reassuringly. Lumped in with a generation of "men" with testosterone levels lower than a woman's would be 30 years ago, and forced to make due with "women" that proudly proclaim themselves sluts and will actually attempt to fistfight men if they are ignored and eschewed, as they should be, my sentiment is clear. I want no part of this generation. It's filthy and degraded.

You could say I'm living a daydream right now, a fantasy granted the breath of life by divine providence. How many shifts at work have I frittered away contemplating the perf…

Beacon Of Light In The Darkness

Beacon Of Light In The Darkness




For too long I've harbored the one-sided shadows of former relationships. Torturous, rapid bombardments of perceived slights and ridiculous thought crimes. I've stifled my own opinions on everything from politics to religion, the two classic hot button issues, paragons of ostracization and dogmatic pollution.

The ghosts of the past are insidious and seductive, causing me to view them through rose-colored glasses for a formerly indeterminate amount of time. Yet now, in the absence of that old, familiar love, the grip of nostalgic fantasy has been loosened as my naivete is strangled by harsh reality.

Gasping for breath, it attacks me with a battalion of its best memories, a company of incomparable moments, countless divisions of dreams rendered dead by inaction and hatred. In the end, we all die alone. In those final, fleeting hours, we'll be surrounded by a devoted, compassionate family if were lucky, holding and pumping our aching, callouse…

Curious Contemplation

My emotions are tumultuous, a whirling tornado throwing me around chaotically with no certain direction. I am trapped in the eye of a storm that has been raging vehemently for the past year. Whom can I trust? When friendship becomes a creaking facade and disrespect laughs mockingly behind a thin veneer of humor and joviality, I am crestfallen and wandering.

Crippled by indecision and weakened by the constant hammering of my trust in my own instincts, I return intuitively to that old harbinger of my past isolation and sustenance; pure, unbridled rage. Fists clenched and compassion askew, the only thing that saves my would be targets is my sense of rationality. Compassion is a finite resource, not to be squandered on the undeserving.

When I first arrived, I was immediately thrust into an arena I was totally unprepared for. The world I had occupied for the past 3.5 years was one of combat and character, where disputes were settled with clashing bones and straining muscles in the privacy…