Monday, November 22, 2010
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
The Perils Of Boxing
Two steps forward, one step back. In boxing parlance that could refer to a double jab followed by a defensive hook but for the purpose of this article it will refer to my progress at the Harvard Boxing Club. I went again today after a tentatively successful experience on Monday where I felt more welcomed and part of a group rather than the old raspberry ruining everyone's fun by being totally uncoordinated and as slow of mind as of body.
Today though I left with a spring in my step. I had constructive advice from Coach (no idea what his name is, everyone just calls him coach) about my pathetic left hook, I was teamed up with Phillip (Archaeology Doctorate) who also tried to enlighten me as to the failings of my hook and I kept going right the way through our sit-ups and press-ups and although I need to pull a few faces to get through I thought that lack of decorum was a small price to pay for the sense of achievement afterwards.
The sit-ups were especially hard for the first 20 or so as I could feel where the swimming trunks I'd worn on Monday really rubbed against the tatami type floor and irritated my skin but other greater pain takes over and I just ploughed on.
I don't change after boxing as it's only about a 10 minutes walk away and I'm so sweaty that putting any other clothes on would be pointless so I just pulled up my hoodie and amble home. I finished cooking dinner (smoked salmon and potato quiche with a walnut and bean salad I will add) and thought I'd take a photo of the sores on my arse from the sit-ups. Imagine my disappointment as I tried to angle the camera in the bathroom mirror and noted the rather obvious patch of blood which decorated the shorts I was still wearing.
My previous confidence disappeared oddly enough. I imagined my proud walk as I left the gym, swinging my bag over my shoulder as I bid my fellow fighters good-night. I imagined what horrors I may have left on the gym mats we all have to pick up and put away at the end of every session and I imagine what people must have thought on that walk home through Harvard Square.
I know what they weren't thinking. None of them thought, Oh I bet he's got a small sore near his coccyx which he must have irritated while manfully ploughing though sit-ups at his boxing gym.
Monday, November 15, 2010
The Good Son - Michael Gruber
I finished this novel today and was quite pleased to have done so. It tries to combine an action and adventure story with a discussion about Islam and the possibility of peace. The manner in which this is achieved is unsurprisingly something of a contrivance but the whole thing hung together pretty well for me.
Pashtun culture, recent wars in Afghanistan and the many views on the possible establishment of a Caliphate were fascinating and I likes a good shoot 'em up too.
I marked a few pages in the book and am writing a few notes for my benefit rather than for anyone else (that is to say they won't make sense).
Legerdemain - Slight of hand.
On Women in Islam
I have the greatest respect for women. A modest woman caring for her family is one of God's greatest creations. But it is also true that when the head is full the womb is empty, as we observe throughout the West. IN whatever nations that accept the curse of women's education and freedom from the control of men we see a rapid decline in population; we see pornography; we see sexual disease. Not a single one of the so called advanced countries is reproducing its original population at replacement levels, an it is now clear that in a certain number of years all these nations will have Muslim majorities. This is because we understand that the function of women is established by God and anything that seeks to destroy that function must be haram.
On Cultural Imperialism
You look at us and you see oppression; we see stability and harmony . You see corruption; we see ties of family, friendship and mutual support. You see feudalism: we see mutual responsibility. You see the oppression of women; we see the defence of modesty.
Pashtun culture, recent wars in Afghanistan and the many views on the possible establishment of a Caliphate were fascinating and I likes a good shoot 'em up too.
I marked a few pages in the book and am writing a few notes for my benefit rather than for anyone else (that is to say they won't make sense).
Legerdemain - Slight of hand.
On Women in Islam
I have the greatest respect for women. A modest woman caring for her family is one of God's greatest creations. But it is also true that when the head is full the womb is empty, as we observe throughout the West. IN whatever nations that accept the curse of women's education and freedom from the control of men we see a rapid decline in population; we see pornography; we see sexual disease. Not a single one of the so called advanced countries is reproducing its original population at replacement levels, an it is now clear that in a certain number of years all these nations will have Muslim majorities. This is because we understand that the function of women is established by God and anything that seeks to destroy that function must be haram.
On Cultural Imperialism
You look at us and you see oppression; we see stability and harmony . You see corruption; we see ties of family, friendship and mutual support. You see feudalism: we see mutual responsibility. You see the oppression of women; we see the defence of modesty.
The Comeback Kid
If it's good enough for Evander Holyfield then it's good enough for me. While I suffered a few blows to the head and the ego last week he had to endure Tyson biting part of his ear off and still he boxes on. As do I.
I decided to give it one more go and if I still felt like an battered spanner at the end of the week then I'd call it quits. Only Monday today but it all went quite well and I feel heartened that I took my own advice and persevered.
On a less bright note I have to report that while I wasn't called upon to spar I did have to put a head guard on for the first time and watched my fellow boxers get into the ring and hit one another. Maybe not too much of a surprise in a boxing class but a new one on me and it was only the pity of my coach which spared me from the horror which will inevitably meet me once I am chosen from the throng and thrown into the arena. I see the possibility of tears, puddles of urine splashing on the floor of the ring and me with my eyes closed, my arms swinging wildly and coach trying to talk me down.
I decided to give it one more go and if I still felt like an battered spanner at the end of the week then I'd call it quits. Only Monday today but it all went quite well and I feel heartened that I took my own advice and persevered.
On a less bright note I have to report that while I wasn't called upon to spar I did have to put a head guard on for the first time and watched my fellow boxers get into the ring and hit one another. Maybe not too much of a surprise in a boxing class but a new one on me and it was only the pity of my coach which spared me from the horror which will inevitably meet me once I am chosen from the throng and thrown into the arena. I see the possibility of tears, puddles of urine splashing on the floor of the ring and me with my eyes closed, my arms swinging wildly and coach trying to talk me down.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Our First Guest
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Tuesday, November 9, 2010
The Best Of Boston
Myself and Hayley went to the Harvard Natural History Museum on Sunday and while we didn't stay for long I founds two areas of note. They had a marvellous collection of mineral samples and while I've not previously mentioned my love of minerals I did spend much of Saturday night fondling a large bar of what might have been calcite at Elspeth's flat which may have piqued my curiosity on the following morning. There were some very dark, black samples which may have been manganite, galena and antimony samples which I can heartily recommend.
It could all have gone downhill from there but no, the very next room housed the amazing (yes, amazing) collection of glass flowers made by Leopold and Rudolph Blaschka. They made marine animals out of glass for the purposes of display and education back in the 19th Century. Someone saw one of their jellyfish or something and commissioned them to make a huge range of glass flowers. These cats knew their glass and they clearly didn't get out much, the collection is stunning.
Before the Natural History museum we went to the Peabody Museum. Not so much.
However, Peta met us later in the day and we went to the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum which was probably one of the best museums I've been to for the following reasons, (a) small, (b) no explanatory plaques to reveal what I was looking at (c) it was closing an hour after we arrived (d) great garden.
It could all have gone downhill from there but no, the very next room housed the amazing (yes, amazing) collection of glass flowers made by Leopold and Rudolph Blaschka. They made marine animals out of glass for the purposes of display and education back in the 19th Century. Someone saw one of their jellyfish or something and commissioned them to make a huge range of glass flowers. These cats knew their glass and they clearly didn't get out much, the collection is stunning.
Before the Natural History museum we went to the Peabody Museum. Not so much.
However, Peta met us later in the day and we went to the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum which was probably one of the best museums I've been to for the following reasons, (a) small, (b) no explanatory plaques to reveal what I was looking at (c) it was closing an hour after we arrived (d) great garden.
No piles today
Following recent concerns over my health I am happy to report that I have no problems with haemorrhoids.
No pain when sitting down, no grimacing on the lavatory and no blood in my underpants. It's all gravy as they say. I think over here they say there are no lumps in their Cream O' Wheat.
When speaking of haemorrhoids I don't imagine that sufferers would enjoy thinking about either gravy or the aforementioned lumps but there you are. I am not suffering from them and while I pity those poor souls who have been neglecting their diet to such an extent that their farmers are playing up again I can't curb my enthusiasm solely to suit their delicate ears.
No pain when sitting down, no grimacing on the lavatory and no blood in my underpants. It's all gravy as they say. I think over here they say there are no lumps in their Cream O' Wheat.
When speaking of haemorrhoids I don't imagine that sufferers would enjoy thinking about either gravy or the aforementioned lumps but there you are. I am not suffering from them and while I pity those poor souls who have been neglecting their diet to such an extent that their farmers are playing up again I can't curb my enthusiasm solely to suit their delicate ears.
Customer Survey
Thank you to those readers who responded to our request for some feedback on your experience while reading our blog. The responses have been compiled and we will be revealing your suggestions over the coming weeks.
This week we wanted to focus on the most common response to the question, "What can The Boston Cheese Party do improve?" It seems that most readers are finding the blog to be preoccupied with matters related to dentistry and as one responded wrote, "Who wants to read all this misery? Just make up some happy shit."
So with these sage words in mind we would welcome to you to our special series, Happy Shit.
This week we wanted to focus on the most common response to the question, "What can The Boston Cheese Party do improve?" It seems that most readers are finding the blog to be preoccupied with matters related to dentistry and as one responded wrote, "Who wants to read all this misery? Just make up some happy shit."
So with these sage words in mind we would welcome to you to our special series, Happy Shit.
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Another fun day at the dentist.
Thankfully a local anesthetic was allowed but curiously it was Pina Colada flavour.
Back again tomorrow for some more root canal.
Do I have anything else to write about other than my teeth?
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Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Throwing In The Towel
While my boxing career has yet to reach the heights of the late, great Frank Bruno I know what he meant when he said, 'Boxing is the toughest and loneliest sport in the world'. Those who have never lived the life of a fighter may strive to include mountain climbing in the lonely sports list but I can tell you from bitter personal experience that being punched repeatedly on the side of the head by a stranger is a pretty lonely experience.
That's why I find myself sitting here tonight considering my future in the ring. Tonight was my first day back at boxing and frankly I wasn't looking forward to it. I've been to the gym four times in the last five days in a vain attempt to ready myself for the physical demands of the class but I was unprepared for the mental scars which would result from being humiliated by a man half my age, with twice my strength who seemed a little irked at being paired up with me and explained that I'd learn nothing of he didn't go for me with real punches. School's out mister!
I have experienced the thrill of being punched in the head when training on King Island but on that occasion Elgin (the coach rather than the marble enthusiast) knew what he was doing and hit me a manner which suggested that he knew what he was doing and was sharpening my skills. My 'buddy' for this evening however took more of the school of hard knocks approach, making no allowances for my feeble reaction times and my limited capacity for prompt evasion.
Once we moved upstairs for pad work I was thankfully paired with George who is a delightful coach, humble, knowledgeable and considerate but the damage was done and I felt dejected and left class early (before we sang our club song and did that thing when you all get in a huddle and shout 'TEAM' while simultaneously throwing an arm in the air.
Admittedly I was already in a shitty mood not having quite recovered from the loss of my dear bicycle which caused me to head out the hills last night in search of the succour one finds in a cigarette. Things were that bad it was time to pull out the dramatic gesture! As I positioned myself on the hill next to the Harvard Observatory I pulled my tobacco from my pocket (where it has lain dormant for what seems like a month) and realised that I had no Rizla with which to construct my symbol of anger and frustration with which I would rage at the cruelties of a world that allows someone to receive an interim bill for $6000 for their teeth, have a bike stolen and have failed to take out insurance on either of these eventualities, all in the same week.
I now console myself with wine and have taken the additional precaution of 150mg of Tramedol which is in theory for my back but is in practise for my mood. I expect that's how it started for that Aussie bloke who played the Joker. 'Just a little something to take the edge of the loss of my bike'. And look where he ended up. But he didn't actually because that bloke with the beard says he was 'whacked' by a hit squad of star killers.
Glad I've got to the end of that posting.
That's why I find myself sitting here tonight considering my future in the ring. Tonight was my first day back at boxing and frankly I wasn't looking forward to it. I've been to the gym four times in the last five days in a vain attempt to ready myself for the physical demands of the class but I was unprepared for the mental scars which would result from being humiliated by a man half my age, with twice my strength who seemed a little irked at being paired up with me and explained that I'd learn nothing of he didn't go for me with real punches. School's out mister!
I have experienced the thrill of being punched in the head when training on King Island but on that occasion Elgin (the coach rather than the marble enthusiast) knew what he was doing and hit me a manner which suggested that he knew what he was doing and was sharpening my skills. My 'buddy' for this evening however took more of the school of hard knocks approach, making no allowances for my feeble reaction times and my limited capacity for prompt evasion.
Once we moved upstairs for pad work I was thankfully paired with George who is a delightful coach, humble, knowledgeable and considerate but the damage was done and I felt dejected and left class early (before we sang our club song and did that thing when you all get in a huddle and shout 'TEAM' while simultaneously throwing an arm in the air.
Admittedly I was already in a shitty mood not having quite recovered from the loss of my dear bicycle which caused me to head out the hills last night in search of the succour one finds in a cigarette. Things were that bad it was time to pull out the dramatic gesture! As I positioned myself on the hill next to the Harvard Observatory I pulled my tobacco from my pocket (where it has lain dormant for what seems like a month) and realised that I had no Rizla with which to construct my symbol of anger and frustration with which I would rage at the cruelties of a world that allows someone to receive an interim bill for $6000 for their teeth, have a bike stolen and have failed to take out insurance on either of these eventualities, all in the same week.
I now console myself with wine and have taken the additional precaution of 150mg of Tramedol which is in theory for my back but is in practise for my mood. I expect that's how it started for that Aussie bloke who played the Joker. 'Just a little something to take the edge of the loss of my bike'. And look where he ended up. But he didn't actually because that bloke with the beard says he was 'whacked' by a hit squad of star killers.
Glad I've got to the end of that posting.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Good news, bad news.
I'm sitting in the second row of a free screening of Four Lions, the new (first?)Chris Morris film.
My bike has been stolen.
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My bike has been stolen.
Sent on the Sprint® Now Network from my BlackBerry®
Day 2
Yesterday was Day 1 of Nanowrimo and I completed my 1667 word target for the day. Not saying the words were strung together in a particularly cohesive manner but thus far I'm on target. Hopefully I'll hit my Day 2 target but I need to get out of the apartment and head down to the library if I'm to stand any chance of success.
One of the problems with having a fair bit of time on my hands (coupled with access to an excellent public library) is that I get to read some marvellous books which is inspirational in some ways and intimidating in all others. If I was reading rubbish crime novels I would be able to adopt the 'I could do that'
attitude but having just read a novel by Jess Waters and currently reading Child 44 by Tim Rob Smith, interspersed with browsing through The Best American Nonrequired Reading 2010 I'm (a) intimidated, (b) disheartened but also (c) enjoying some excellent writing.
I can't do that.
I'm going to see Four Lions with a talk by Chris Morris (satirist) tonight which is quite exciting so I'd better get cracking.
Extract from - Best American First Lines of Poems Published In 2009
No one will read to the end of a poem about butterflies.
Butterflies - Mike White
Best American Nonrequired Reading 2010.
One of the problems with having a fair bit of time on my hands (coupled with access to an excellent public library) is that I get to read some marvellous books which is inspirational in some ways and intimidating in all others. If I was reading rubbish crime novels I would be able to adopt the 'I could do that'
attitude but having just read a novel by Jess Waters and currently reading Child 44 by Tim Rob Smith, interspersed with browsing through The Best American Nonrequired Reading 2010 I'm (a) intimidated, (b) disheartened but also (c) enjoying some excellent writing.
I can't do that.
I'm going to see Four Lions with a talk by Chris Morris (satirist) tonight which is quite exciting so I'd better get cracking.
Extract from - Best American First Lines of Poems Published In 2009
No one will read to the end of a poem about butterflies.
Butterflies - Mike White
Best American Nonrequired Reading 2010.
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