47 Ronin
Posted on Fri Aug 03 18:05:00 UTC 2007
“a great man should die as a shattered jewel rather than live as an intact tile” - Book of Northern Qi
Sometimes I grab life so hard by the tits she liable to slap my face. Skip step two entirely, go straight for the throat, bare my teeth and grin. Life's far too short for the big clock hand, there just ain't no calliper made capable of measuring an instant, no stop watch created that's accurate enough to calculate exhilaration in meters squared. The thrill, delirious, of doing something completely irreversible, a dangerous stage act, balancing on the edge of vertigo, balancing, balancing: deliberately falling over.
Iaidō is the Japanese art of drawing the sword. The one shot kill. Fluid movement, wiping the blood from the blade, sheathing the weapon; calm as autumn leaves. People always saying I should slow down, telling me (as friends) that I shouldn't rush into things. Be cool man. Whoa there cowboy. The sunset burns! don't be in such a hurry to get there.
But then I think: life is short. These silent snowflakes of cherry blossom love burn and dry up like leukemia patients, and outside it still rains on every man the same.
You can't turn away from this. Draw the blade.
Sometimes I grab life so hard by the tits she liable to slap my face. Skip step two entirely, go straight for the throat, bare my teeth and grin. Life's far too short for the big clock hand, there just ain't no calliper made capable of measuring an instant, no stop watch created that's accurate enough to calculate exhilaration in meters squared. The thrill, delirious, of doing something completely irreversible, a dangerous stage act, balancing on the edge of vertigo, balancing, balancing: deliberately falling over.
Iaidō is the Japanese art of drawing the sword. The one shot kill. Fluid movement, wiping the blood from the blade, sheathing the weapon; calm as autumn leaves. People always saying I should slow down, telling me (as friends) that I shouldn't rush into things. Be cool man. Whoa there cowboy. The sunset burns! don't be in such a hurry to get there.
But then I think: life is short. These silent snowflakes of cherry blossom love burn and dry up like leukemia patients, and outside it still rains on every man the same.
You can't turn away from this. Draw the blade.