With only a week to go before Roshambo I find myself at a critical point in my career. I burst on to the RPS scene all full o' piss and vinegar, winning the first tournament I ever entered. Within six months, I won my second tournament. There were a few high-placing efforts at the Keystone Classic, but I can't shake this voice in my head that says, "Yeah, you done real good...but what have you done lately?"
I've taken a completely different approach to training this time around. My actual RPS play has been reduced to almost nil. After a grueling month of "game of the day" training at the Lions' Den compound, I get through most of my days without playing any RPS at all.
Instead, I focus on intuitive training. When I pull up outside of a 7-11 getting ready to knock that bad boy over, I ask myself "how much will this haul net me?" I'm not always right, but I'm usually real close.
Earlier this week, I watched the classic documentary "When We Were Kings," which is about the Muhammad Ali vs. George Foreman "Rumble in the Jungle." I've heard old-timers like custardchuk and Rosh mention the movie in passing, but I have to say it is not only one of the best RPS training films I've seen, it's also one of the best films period. Watching how these two giants train, manipulate each other through the media, and eventually duke it out is an inspiration to all RPS players. You can find the whole damn thing on youtube, but if you watch only one segment, check out this one: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N44vdCqI7LI
. It's a graduate course in ring strategy.
A few days ago I visited a compadre and when we looked out on his back porch we saw a black snake writhing. Two cardinals, a red male and a brown female were attacking it. They weren't afraid of it at all. One would walk up inches away from the snake and let it attempt a strike while the other bird attacked the tail. Obviously protecting their young, the two managed to herd the snake off the deck. Later on my friend and I spotted a black crow keeping pace with us on a walk in the woods, and then a black dog. I mentioned the presence of three "spirit animals," all of them black, and my associate noted that the black spirit animals absorb energy, primarily so-called "negative" energy. I reckon he was right.
Last night I exteriorized in dream form, started to find my limbs, and saw myself walking through the void. I felt a bite on my left hand side and saw a tiny basketball sized demon, little sucker, tryin' to start somethin. I woke up and still felt the bite. Put on a protective talisman given me by a Maori tribesman and went back to sleep.
I've never been a fan of fad diets, I just believe in eatin' what works for you. Basically, anything that can't run away. Lately, for training purposes I've switched to the NBC Diet: Nothing But Chili. A vat will last you a week, saving valuable training time, and you can still get your nutitional requirements here: rice, meat and veggies comprise the bulk of a good chili. I even put in some bitter chocolate at Sista's request; the endorphin rush is nice on the days when I actually train. Also, I've been experimenting with other chiles apart from the Parts Unknown Chile (capsicum ignotum
.) Heresy though it may be, one of them college boys came back to P.U. and started a selective breeding program on the PU Chile. He bred out a lot of the hotness and the hallucinogenic properties are down to a dull roar, but there's a subtle but definite telepathic context very similar to Yage or Banisteria caapi (telepathine.) The effect seems to be two-way, but I reckon that the more experienced party will fare the better.
As for my state of mind going into the tournament, I feel like the wheels done fell off. What with revenuers, G-Men, T-Men, and dragonfly surveillance drones buzzing around me all the time, I reckon I need about three months without seeing another human face to approach some level of social availability. It ain't gonna happen out West, and I plan on using my social discomfort to add steam to my game. I'm startin' off in a bad mood and hittin' the ground runnin'. The Midnight Rider ain't nobody's role model, and at this point I feel capable of anything, perhaps even empathy. But I wouldn't count on it. I take full responsibilty for my choice of throws as well as my choice of actions.