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Face Punch anyone?

First off- Welcome to FACEPUNCH, sucker.

The concept has been floating around for sometime and has finally come to fruition: GJS is going to share with all of you what has been learned in over twenty years in martial arts and fist fights and a decade in, out and around prize fighting in Japan and Thailand.

This effort is being made because I’m better than you and I know it.  The English-speaking fight community, so obsessed with boxing and the UFC, have largely missed the stand up boat and I feel that it’s my solemn duty to attempt to un-fuck this situation.

Prepare to receive knowledge.

This new effort also happens to coincide with my return to training, and hopefully, the ring after some time off getting my private life in some sort of manageable order.

Right.  Let’s crack on then…

Technique vs. Techniques

“Man, like, I just want to learn a few techniques that can help me sparring.”

If I had a dollar for every time someone said something like this to me, I would already own an incredible adult goods shop in Karachi and I’d finally be able to stop this hand to mouth lifestyle based around necromancy.

“OK people, next combo on the bag, jab-jab, Right low kick, jab-cross-left to the body, right low kick, spinning left kick. Go!”

I swear to god, that was a combo,  techniques, I witnessed being taught to a group of people so lacking in basic stand up concepts or fighting fitness I thought I was on the set of Golden Girls: Blood and Sand.

For whatever reason, and I have a good idea which reason it is and more on that later, much of the English-speaking fight world, particularly America, are obsessed with techniques.

Go to any gym, look at any website; a techniques festival.

How to counter this, how to respond to that, how to slip here and what to do there.  It’s a Hodge-podge of mismatched maneuvers all sewn into a patch work quilt of excess and non congruence.

"Fucking Karate!"

“Fucking Karate by the catfish restaurant!”

This popular idea that moving from one gym to another or one training camp to another in order to “diversify and expand your game” in reality results in fighters never truly developing meaningful skill sets.  It takes time, lots of time and sweat and pain and patience, in order to truly absorb what a real coach is giving you.  This does not happen quickly and it is often not exciting.  It is however, fighting.  A fighter goes to the gym. He jumps rope or runs.  He shadow boxes (more on this another time; got a bone to pick) and works the bag.  Then he gets in the ring or cage and does mitts with his coach.  He spars.  He goes home and eats and goes to bed. The next day the cycle is done again.

It’s just the same shit over and over.  That is how you develop the tools necessary to win fights.

Winning fights is not about how many leg locks you know or how many ways you can “counter a left hook.”  The reality of the fight game is that you only need one way to counter a left hook, or anything else, you simply must be damned good at that counter.

What would Tyson have accomplished if Cus D’amato had not had exclusive and total training dominion over him?  He was taught that style of “peekaboo” boxing and he mastered it.  When the intensity and exclusivity of his training waned, so did his prowess in the ring.

"PROWESS."

“PROWESS.”

In today’s modern combat sports climate, and I am referring primarily to MMA and kickboxing, and to an extent boxing, in the West, techniques are king because simply put: it’s good business.  It has been for years.  Strip mall Kenpo Karate schools have been raking in the dow ever since Chuck Norris kicked a drug dealer in his man parts with Taekwondo in ’78, finally ending the conflict in Vietnam.  Karate was big biz in the 80′s and still in the 90′s; I remember slapping the shit out of this kid down the block who had recently gotten his black belt from Master’s Studios of Self Defense. MMA and the connection kickboxing sadly has with it are the new strip mall dork dojos.  But now instead of a black belt in a year, you get a pair of board shorts, and affliction t-shirt and a shitty tribal tattoo.

"Come back once you cut those sleeves off and pay for this little girls sex change."

“Come back once you cut those sleeves off and pay for this little girls sex change.”

Do not get it twisted and somehow walk away from this thinking I dislike traditional martial arts because I do not.  When practiced traditionally these are fine.  What I dislike is the fast food Mc-black belt mentality and the obsession with techniques that comes with it.

So, what is the difference between technique and techniques?

Technique is the total package.  It’s balance, timing, distance, connectedness and flow.  It is something that comes from a lifestyle that revolves around hours, days and years spent in the same gym, working with the same coach moving toward a common finished model.  Technique is constant and never-ending refinement of the same things you learned in your first year of training.  Once you know how to punch, kick, elbow, knee and clench then what is left is for you to hone these things into the finest tools possible.  This is not done by adding more to the package but by stripping away the unnecessary and perfecting the basics.

Names in the fight game that resonate and are synonymous with the having of technique are Fedor Emelinanko, Mutsuki and Rui Ebata, Kikkuchi Gosuke, Buakaw Por Pramuk, Anuwat Kaewsamrit, Shin Nopadetsorn, Mike Tyson, Roy Jones Jr., Roy Nelson, Gohkan Saki, Daniel Ghita, Alexey Ignashoz, Rob Kaman and Floyd Mayweather Jr.

Not all these fighters are remembered as being champions, but at some point all of them were just that and all these men have technique. It is not contrived or forced and it has made them dangerous in the ring, even well after their respective primes had come and gone.

An incredible example and contrast which demonstrates technique vs. techniques well, took place during two of the super fights on the GLORY 4 card in Saitama Japan on New Years eve.

Matsumoto Toshio, a kickboxing champion with Shin Nihon Kickboxing, lost a decision win to Jason Wilnis.  Matsumoto came out and threw literally everything and the kitchen sink at Wilnis, but as the fight wore on it was clear that although he had lots of tricks, nothing had enough blast behind it to really phase Wilnis, and ultimately in the third round, Matsumoto was badly punished by very basic power punching and strong kicks from his opponent.

Conversely, Mutsuki Ebata, one of the Champion twins, put on what commentator Stephen Quadros referred to as “an absolute kickboxing clinic” easily defeating Korean Sang Jae Kim in a display of intense technical dominance.

So, why is it that everyone is not taking the technique approach as opposed to simply teaching loads of “moves” to wanna be’s?

"At the end of the day, this is always why."

“At the end of the day, this is always why.”

In the popular seminar style format that most gyms run on, it is very easy to teach techniques to a large group of people, it is not so easy to hone technique.  Honing technique is a one-on-one endeavor and it requires the constant effort of the fighter as well as the supervision of a committed coach.  Gyms are business’s and these are meant to turn a profit.

Just like the Mc-Black-Belt Dojos of old, techniques sell; the arduous task of developing technique does not.

That having been said, those that possess real technique will continue to school those that do not and this really is the difference between a professional fighter or a thug that gets paid to try to beat people up; technique.

 

Holy Shit that was brilliant give me more:

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Bagel Head Fashion
Bagel Head Fashion

Bagel Heads

Pictures courtesy of Ryoichi “Keroppy” Maeda

This summer VICE magazine was documenting a new trend what they have started calling Bagel Heads.  This new BM sub-culture uses saline drips to make temporary bulges under their skin.

So you’re the man responsible for bringing it to the masses. How does the whole process work?
It’s quite easy – we use medical saline solution and using infusion we pump it into the forehead for about two hours, or until it’s ready.

Two hours! Fucking hell. How long does it last?
Just one night. The body absorbs it over time so by the next morning it just goes back to normal. We enjoy being freaks for the night, ha ha.
Does the skin ever start to sag?
No. Everyone I know who has done it, no matter how many times, their skin has gone back to exactly how it was before.

Now it might be tempting to look at this new trend and say God Damn! Japan is weird but you have to keep in mind the numbers. Look at Tokyo, the greater Tokyo region has over 30 million people all within at most a 2hr train ride. 30 million is about the same population as the entire nation of Canada! I know people in Canada are doing this but they’re spread out over a huge area and can’t hang out with each other and maintain this trend. Where as in Tokyo these people CAN hang out and do. This applies to all the weird sub-groups of Japan especially those that are in Japan’s HUGE urban centers. It’s a numbers game.

This is something I talked about for concerning how there is a perception that Japanese women are obsessed with foreign guys. Back to the Canadian example: If .01% of the population is obsessed with Japanese guys it doesn’t mean much because they’re spread out all over Canada. But in Japan or even in Tokyo .01% of the population is thousands of people which means there are a lot of women hanging out at a small selection of bars that foreigners also hang out … number game man, numbers game.

UPDATE: Sept 2012 National Geographic did a special on the Japanese Bagel Head:

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Beginnings of a Seismic School Year

Hollywood got it totally wrong.”

He said this just as he set his beer mug down on the table and shook his head.  I took several swallows of the cold, thin beer and then set my mug down as well, reaching across the table I picked up a stick of yakitori and waited for him to continue.

“There is no massive wall of water racing toward the skyscrapers or any of that shit.  There’s no running down the street to escape it. ”  He shook his head again as he stuffed some garlic fries into his mouth.  I shook my head as well.  I finished the yakitori.

“You saw the videos online.  It’s as if someone left the facet on.  The sink just overflows and it keeps coming and coming. ” He zones out slightly staring off at something only he can see and then just when I think he’s going to say something else, he just lets out a sigh.

“It was just consuming man.  Cars, bicycles, houses -fucking houses- man.” I say and then pick my beer up again

“All we needed was Godzilla stomping around breathing fire and eating the  citizenry and we would have had a hit Japanese monster movie. “

 That was one of the hundreds of conversations I have had in the last month and a half regarding the earthquakes and tsunami that absolutely ravaged northern Japan and set people all over the world on edge.

Japan is an advanced nation with resources, technology, money and means.  If the earth can just stand up and slam one of the most powerful countries on the planet in the face with a wide flying right hook, than nobody anywhere is safe.

It dawned on me the other day as I stood at the bus stop outside MDC watching the rain fall on the pavement, the hills, the trees and the patches of gardens and rice fields.  If nobody ever made another weapon or started another ridiculous war we would still all essentially be fucked.  That’s how insignificant we actually are.  Our arrogance usually blinds us to the fact that we need the earth, not the other way around.

Conversations like that one I had at a “270″ izakaya in Shinjuku, there are 8 of them now within a 10 block radius (it’s like the new McDonalds), with Yosomono have dominated all discourse here since 03/11 and how could they not?  Nobody likes having their entire reality questioned.  Talk it away.  Try to “figure it out”.  Define small. Personify expendable.

“Where were you when the earthquake happened?” I asked her.  I just say the earthquake despite there being earthquakes daily.  There was one the night before just after I had gotten in bed, but when you say “the earthquake”, everyone knows what you mean.

“I was on the train.  It was shaking so much.  My whole body went cold I was so scared and when it stopped I realized I was holding onto some middle-aged salary man! My arms completely wrapped around him.  I didn’t even know I had done that.”  She was smiling as she recounted the story to me.  At least Misa still smiles her smile, but 17 year olds can do that.  Of course they can also lose it.

” I totally lost it.” Mayuko told me, almost running over Misa’s story with her intensity and the black shock horror she clearly still feels like it just happened.  ”I was at Tokyo Disney Land with my friends, and was about…about to take a photo with…Mickey…” She paused and stared at my eyes for a moment.  I looked at Misa (still smiling) who was looking at Mayuko who was staring directly at me with a blank expression which proceeded to crack and devolve into something I never like to see.  Tears from a woman.  She continued with effort and necessity.

“…then everything started to shake.  It was slow at first but everyone stopped moving, then it started to shake so hard and I started screaming.  Mickey Mouse turned and ran off and I just screamed and clutched my friends who were also screaming. It was horrible.”  Her eyes, shimmering nightmare mirrors, full of tears quivered for another moment and then the bell rang.  Sixth period had ended.  Disney land will never be the same again.

It was after the talk with Misa and Mayuko, standing in the freezing cold under the tin shelter at the bus stop listening to the rain drops popping off the roof trying to explain things to me.  It was freezing that day.  The morning had been bright and warm but by three in the afternoon it had become early February again.

I should have known something was wrong that day.  I had awoken to a wine glass, left haphazardly perched on the edge of a bookshelf, clanging to the floor at 4:30 in the morning compliments of yet another earthquake.

Waking up in the middle of an earthquake is a unique experience that I will recommend to no one.  The first half-dozen times this happened in the last 6 weeks, I flew out of bed like a member of a Chinese  circus and was at my front door, cash-phone-passport in hand, within 30 seconds.  One problem that has arisen amidst all this seismic activity, something I would not have predicted before, is the development of a totally lackadaisical attitude when confronted with any kind of earthquake less than say- a level 7.  The earth-shaking and knocking over glasses or throwing pictures off the wall is “no big deal”, it’s on the same level of annoying as the cats making sweet feline love at 3AM outside my flat- and boisterously sharing their passion with me via sensuous kitty-cat screams.

The fact is, one should never answer the awesome physical dominance of the Earth with your hands in your pockets, a shrug of the shoulders and a half-hearted “meah“.

The shaking woke me up at 4:30 and I just laid there.  I woke up, my eyes opened and I groaned a few explicatives but I didn’t move.  I just laid there on my back, looked up at the ceiling and waited for the  shaking to stop. After about thirty seconds, the heater/cooler on my wall, the one directly over my head came into view and I imagined it breaking off the wall and falling, crashing onto my face.  This depressed me even more when I realized that I surely wouldn’t die from that, it would just hurt a lot.

Perhaps a minute later things had calmed down.  My world had not ended.  So I closed my eyes and let myself drift back to sleep.  Approximately five minutes after the quake quit and about two minutes after I fell back asleep my mobile phone started screaming and strobing wildly.  My “earth quake alert” had just gone off, warning me about an impending earthquake.  The one that had happened five minutes before.

“Son of bitch I’m sick of these goddamn earthquakes.”  Angry words thrown into the dark of my room for anyone, or no one.

“I hate Japan.  I never wanted to live here again.” Miki couldn’t have said those two sentences with more conviction or more melancholy.  I’ve known Miki for six years.  When I first met her at a dinner party half a decade ago she spoke no English, and had no interest in learning it or learning about anything outside of Japan.  Through a series of events so convoluted and ironic they deserve a quirky comedic motion picture, she moved to Canada and became a snowboard instructor somewhere around Banff.  These days, she refuses to speak to me in Japanese.  Her dislike of her homeland stems from things that might be best left unsaid, but she jumped ship and saved nothing for the swim back.

The thing is, life has this way of putting you where it wants you and after Miki’s cousin disappeared on 03/11, she couldn’t see any way out of it.  She had to come home.

“They still don’t know where he is.” She sighed and then took a long drag from her cigarette.  Newports.  She had brought several cartons back with her.

“I don’t get why the hell he stayed up there.  That place didn’t give him much at all.  It didn’t give me anything except an excuse to run.”  I didn’t say anything for a while because I didn’t have to.  I know a fair share about needing to run myself and although our reasons surely are not the same, the impulse probably is and Miki knows enough about me to know when I know.

“So, your whole family is living in Saitama now?” I stretched out my legs in front of me on the park bench and slouched down with my hands in my coat pockets against the cold and wind.  Miki sat on the bench indian style facing me.  Her light brown hair peeking out from one side underneath a “North Face” beanie.

“Yeah everyone at my uncles place in Saitama.  My dad is still in Tohoku but my mom and my sister came here.  I’m glad, you know…I can’t go back.  I know I need to be with them now though….so…”

We sat in the park until after sunset then went and got pretty drunk.  Miki and her family found out a week later her  cousin had died.  He had drowned in his car and it took the search and rescue teams a long time to find his body due to him being buried underneath six feet of debris left by the tsunami.

“You know, we make more money than the people working at the nuclear plant in Fukushima.”   BigBen (Young, Stoic, French), my current flat mate that lives in the basement, told me this early this morning.  I had gotten up and noticing the lack of the unexplainable horniness which always accompanies a hangover I had done the morning after test: shake my head, flex some major muscle groups and then look in the mirror.  If my head doesn’t hurt, if I have no odd pains or general discomfort and if my reflection is me and not some guy ten years older due to dehydration and the overconsumption of alcoholic beverages then I give myself a pat on the back.  I didn’t drink too much last night.  Friday night it can go either way since the usual suspects that come out to play are one and all pretty throughly functional alcoholics, madmen and wonderful.

I had  wandered into the kitchen and made a coffee and had stood there noticing out the window that it was raining. Big sloppy rain drops this morning, like some kind of aggressive display being put on by someone. It was at that time that BigBen came upstairs.

“Bonjour. ” He said and I moved out of his way so he could go to the bathroom.  I was still in the kitchen when he came back and that’s when he had told me about the Fukushima situation and the economic paradox of it all.

“Things are just getting worse.  I heard the government is thinking about asking the Yakuza to get “volunteers” to help with maintaining the plant.” He stood by the stairs leading to his room and stared gloomily at me in a very French way and continued.

“They need new people to push the buttons or something.  Nobody wants to volunteer now.”

“I guess that’s understandable.” I replied between sips of hot black coffee.  I was standing by the kitchen counter in black sweats and a Marine Corps T-shirt. BigBen was wearing his standard issue white T-shirt and plaid boxers.  Conversations with BigBen are a lot like dialogue from Dr. Katz.

“If that damn plant blows up, it will make life very unpleasant here.  I just got hired officially yesterday, although my boss claims he hired me last week but nobody told me.”

“Well, congrats. C’est bien.”

“C’est vraiment fantastique.  Parce que je n’ai pas d’argent pour payer le loyer du mois prochain.” He smiled nervously and gestured awkwardly.

“Well, rent is important.  Tell your boss I said thank you.”

I went into my room, drank my coffee then I worked out for forty-five minutes.  After a shower I sat on my coach here and started writing.  The Earth does what it wants.  We are literally powerless to stop this but I often wonder if we aren’t the cause of this.  They call it “sensitivity to initial conditions”.  Is humanities massive footprint affecting the earth in ways we can’t possibly understand because we tend to think of it as this rock we can just live on and use however we like?  Whether we contribute to or even trigger the escalating natural disasters or not something of this magnitude gets all my wheels turning.

Hell literally broke loose on March 11th 2011 and everything else all over the world, even within the same country just kept going.  If a ten story tsunami , thousands dead and the most paranoid and preparedness obsessed nation on earth totally pimped smacked with ease can be filed away and everyone can move on then who is going to give a shit about you losing your job or me getting hit by a car?

Talk it away.  Try to “figure it out”.  Define small. Personify expendable.

Food for dark thoughts.

Read more about the Great East Japan Earthquake in Nuclear Power Dilemma by Yosomono or On Fidelity by Gaijinass or just follow us on Twitter.

5 Things the Earthquake in Japan Taught me

“All things have second birth;

The earthquake is not satisfied at once.”

William Wordsworth

Lets get something straight right off the bat….that was a mean earthquake. I have been in Japan for sometime, about 7 years, and that was the meanest one yet.
Japan is not the only place I have played fun and games with seismic activity. A fairly nasty shaker put a big crack in the wall at my highschool in South Carolina. Then, in Palm Springs California 12 years ago, I saw a smack dealer crawl into a doorway, weeping, because the tremor was going to kill us all.

Finally, about five years ago here in Tokyo I was in a cafe with a friend on the 7th floor of a department store in Shinjuku, and I remember watching the buildings out the window sway and roll with the shaking of the earth. This coincided with the terrified screams from many happy patrons inside.

This latest Rock N Roll however brought the pain, and it seems the rules have changed. I have learned some things from this latest earthquake in Japan.

5. Earthquakes are no laughing matter.

I happen to be on spring break so my days are filled largely with exercise, pornography and time-wasting.  Today, when the quake hit around 14:40, I was online downloading things and chatting to a friend, Bateman in fact, online.  When the rolling began to happen our chat went something like this….

Gajinass: Oh look, God’s angry again.

Bateman: I guess you should stop meeting hookers.

Gajinass: That’s not likely. Still going.

Batman: I hate my co-workers.

Gajinass: Jesus this is Rock N Rolling!

Bateman: No kidding

At this point I had to stand up and grab some things off my walls and make a split decision…

Gajinass: Man I am fuckin out of here!

And I was.

Right out the door.  And why? I made fun of Seismic activity.

That is not a good idea.

4. REMOVED due to my family seeing it as another reason for me to go to hell.

3. Go to the store as soon as possible.

I was inside the convenience store within 10 minutes of the first shock wave subsiding.  In my book, NATURAL DISASTERS mean one can begin drinking at whatever time, for whatever extended period.

I went in, got a beer and headed home.  Then I enjoyed several very potent after shocks which saw me and my neighbour who had witnessed my *prior state, now fully in control of her sense, meeting yet again.  This time a comfortable yet palpable tension lingered.

When I returned to the same store 3 hours later thinking dinner, the shelves were almost entirely barren. Bottled water, ready to eat meals, everything (except what I had come for; beer) was gone.  It was cleaned out. GUTTED.

A small store in Central Tokyo picked clean to the bone.

I made my way to the market down the road and found similar results.

Luckily, due to anomalies in my DNA, I can exist purely on spirits for up to 6 months.

Point- Stock up or hit the store ASAP.

2. The Japanese are Prepared.

Look….I’m not the Earthquake guy OK?  However, it seems clear to me that Japan really has its respective SHIT together when it comes to serious emergency’s.

If this quake had hit any other country in the region, it seems like the destruction and loss of life would be drastically more high.  In addition to that, after having lived in Los Angeles for several years, I can say with a high degree of certainty that if LA was hit like this, full on rioting would have been the norm.

When all the trains stopped and there was no way home what happened in Tokyo?  MILLIONS of Japanese working class people, people in skirts, dress shoes, high heels, people with bags and satchels and plans that couldn’t possibly be kept simply began that long, hard slog home….on foot.

Many people walked home, covering 10 and 15 miles.  Many, many people emailed me asking if I was prepared for aftershocks.  ”Area mails” were automatically sent to mobile phones in designated areas warning people where to stay away from.

Nobody panicked.

I was impressed.

1. Do not live near the Epicenter of this kind of event.

I write this article in jest because what else can I do?  I am a purveyor of cock and fart jokes.  However, there is nothing amusing or comedic about what has happened to regions in Northern Japan.  In fact it is pure biblical destruction.

Giant Whirl pool off the coast of Japan.

Buildings Destroyed.

You have a life....

...now you don't.

CHAOS

If there is anyone that can help the victims in Northern Japan, I hope they do.

And as I write this, my room continues to shake and rumble.  The Earth is nothing to play chicken with.  I’m getting another beer.

 

Read more about this in Be Prepared: 5 must haves for Any Emergency and in On Fidelity.

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