I always wanted to learn fencing. Ever since I saw Errol Flynn play Robin Hood in the classic film. I knew it was off base, even as a kid. In the 12th century they didnÂ’t use fencing foils they used big ass two handed swords. But it didnÂ’t matter to me; I wanted to be a swashbuckler. The original heavy swords were used against armor, and with the decline of people wearing armor (gunpowder), lighter, faster weapons like the rapier were developed and carried by the gentry.

Fencing is a sport associated with high culture, mainly because in the heyday of high culture a gentleman was expected to defend himself or the honor of a lady. As the use of the sword diminished in real world situations, the art of the sword remained very much alive but developed into a competitive sport. Fencing is a direct descendant of the duel.

There are many styles of fencing, most notably Italian, French and Hungarian. The original fencing weapons were the Épeé and the Sabre. The Épeé was a pointed rapier while the saber was a military cutting sword. Eventually the Foil was developed as a safer version of the Épeé and is used as the introductory weapon most of the time.

Fencing is an extremely demanding sport. Speed and stamina are huge factors and those not in top physical condition stand little chance. Like most other martial pursuits, footwork plays a very important role in fencing.

There are rules and scoring systems involved but IÂ’d have to look them up and IÂ’m lazy and frankly itÂ’s getting tiresome typing this out. I suppose the point to this, if there is one, is that the sword arts were traditionally taught to the privileged and for the most part it remains that way today.

A few years ago I decided to try fencing just to have some fun. The idea of bringing a sword down on the wrist of an opponent does have a certain appeal. Christ, was it complicated. And absolutely exhausting. It was a very brief affair for me and IÂ’m not generally a quitter. I do have training in martial arts, high level training in fact, and while they donÂ’t have the romance of the sword they are a great deal more practical, and in todayÂ’s world they have replaced the rapier when it comes to defense of a gentleman or a ladyÂ’s honor.

Martial arts is a topic I donÂ’t like posting about for a multitude of reasons, but I will give the fine readers here a few tips.

Footwork is the most important aspect of fighting. I donÂ’t mean kicking, I mean footwork. Parries, blocks and strikes are intended to be used in conjunction with footwork and I have found over a great many years that it is overlooked by 90% of practitioners. Poor footwork causes problems with critical distance and weighting. Lunging will leave you overextended and at the hands of an experienced man youÂ’re doomed. Footwork sets up the critical positioning needed for the hands to work.

Kicking is highly overrated. When I see people kicking to the face I start belly laughing. With two feet on the ground you have a root and balance. Lift one leg up higher than the waist in real fight and I promise I will break your back. Literally. Using high kicks originally designed to dismount a man from horseback, is ludicrous. Stay away from “sport” martial arts which teach this nonsense for point scoring. Kicking is best used for entering on an opponent, and they should be kept low.

Posted by: Pixy Misa at 08:21 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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You have no idea how tiresome this has become. Note to self—no more extended blogging commitments.

LetÂ’s start with a question this week. Why are so many people hostile towards the arts?

HereÂ’s a good example:

Back in high school I had a part time job working for some rich people. The old man was okay but his wife thought she was the fucking Duchess of York. They were fairly new in town and it was a very affluent area. I was probably the poorest person living there. Anyway, this old broad desperately tried to ingratiate herself into the well-established circles of society and they were having none of it.

She acted as though she were a great patron of the arts and an expert in all things cultural. The problem was she was a fraud, and feigned knowledge is always exposed over time. They were nuevo riche and personally I see nothing wrong with that. As they say, itÂ’s riche part that really matters. Yet she felt it necessary to give the impression that she was from a family of distinction or some shit. Now, if you havenÂ’t been to finishing school, have little education and no social contacts itÂ’s extremely difficult to buy your way into society. A lot of wealthy people are bored shitless and like nothing better than asking leading questions about your family and education and thereÂ’s no way you have the right answers. TheyÂ’ve seen it all before.

Meanwhile, I was working for these people and the frumpy bitch thought she’d try to educate me. It was a painful experience. She’d put on NPR and they’d be playing Vivaldi and she’d say, “You should listen to this! Do you know what this is?” and before I could answer she’d say, “That’s Mozart, one of the greatest composers that has ever lived!” As you can imagine it was a painful experience, but the old man wasn’t cheap so I persevered. I always thought a proper horse fucking would have set her straight, but I wasn’t about to suggest it.

That horrible woman would have turned me against anything remotely cultural had I not had more pleasant experiences prior to our meeting. I think that when most people think of the arts the image of this woman or one like her come to mind because it’s become a cliché.

Most people who pursue the arts aren’t rich. They don’t travel in social circuits and they don’t go around talking about it all day. I know a lot of beer swilling, farting, regular guys who like classical music. Well, maybe not a lot, buy several. Same with painting. Not everyone who can appreciate the impressionists, or are painters themselves act like assholes. They don’t all hang around art galleries. I know a guy who paints. He’s good, and if he would have put some effort into it he probably could have become a big deal. He’s also a collector, though he’s not rich and his “collection” is insignificant to all but himself. He doesn’t sit around eating fucking canapés, either. He plays poker with us once a month and he’s a Dorito eating, gin drinking slob. He also likes opera and his house is littered with old Penthouse magazines.

I think IÂ’ve made my point.

Posted by: Pixy Misa at 07:47 AM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
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