By SOMA
A title comes to mind and the essay that follows has little if anything to do with it. This is why weblogs, more commonly known as “blogs” are a great invention for cats like me; people who write, who are not writers. Of course “journalists” and “media personalities” had to go and ruin it by posting their blogs on the side of their regular reporting.
UGH! I stopped watching TV to get away from these omniscient blowhards who use their status to sway public opinion. I might be a little bit jealous of their notoriety as well, but not much. I prefer the underground; that nostalgic, romantic realm where creativity thrives and small groups of eclectics gather and appreciate the obscure. I’ll save my thoughts on the Death of the Underground for a more lucid period of mental vibrations.
Photogenica
I think I can take a picture a day to go along with these cerebral lava flows, as long as I am not obliged to do it. I have my camera on a tripod, and a strobe screwed into a track light and a wall with nothing on it but my “to do” list to use as a background. I set the timer, stand in front and remember the day.
I was thinking the other day that it would be nice to invite a friend or two over from time to time for cocktails and a portrait. I can think of some funky undergroundee alliterative name to call this project later. Maybe they can come over, have a drink – I’ve been working on some spicy ginger-infused cocktail recipes – do a quickie photo session (suitable for social network profile pix) and as an added bonus they can take one of the many albums I am soon getting rid of… wax baby. So make your reservations now.
Competition from Other Places
I’m currently in a fierce battle with the 2004 version of My self. He is for the most part silent save echoes and images from that year. Bench pressing 295 pounds, doing 100+ pushups in a single set, some days churning out 1000 pushups a day, just because someone told him Hershel walker did it. Only that guy wasn’t running. He was big and bulky too.
Seven years later, seven years older and most importantly seven years smarter/wiser the transformation has been amazing, if I do say so myself. What I’ve sacrificed in brute (upper body) strength, I suppose I have made up for in core strength, endurance, lean muscle mass (more ripped) and certainly overall health.
Still that macho kid haunts me. I look at the young bucks benching 250, 275, 315 pounds with relative ease and I become (just short of) those guys who were talking about what they “used to bench” before this or that happened.
The barbell (flat) bench press is a real “guy” exercise. For most of us this is how we measure our strength (and ourselves against other guys.) I haven’t worked with barbell flat presses in a couple of years; it’s been all dumbbells. I made a pledge to myself as to when I’ll get back to the bench and I am trying my best to keep it. (The incline barbell bench press is a different story.)
I don’t blame you if you’re not interested in my strength gains; honestly. I write these essays up from time to time and post them, simply because blogs exist. Most of my exercise scribble goes into my little notebooks for future deciphering.
I suppose in a way I’m bragging. I’m okay with that only because I’m bragging against my past self; a bit faster, a bit stronger (overall if not specifically with barbells) a bit slimmer am I now as well.
Accomplishments within my seven pillars of fitness are my Bragging Rights, posting them are my bragging rites.
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