yo-yo #'s 89 & 90: stow-aways

i am not at the world yo-yo contest.

as i type the words, my hands twitch a little, my lip curls in an involuntary grimace, and i exhale with a melancholy i can not withhold. i watched the feed tonight and last; got to see my friend hank become world champion in 3a... got to see samm scott, with whom i've traded tricks for years, get 3rd in 5a... got to see a beautiful performance from sebby! seeing my friends on stage, and getting glimpses of them in the crowd and at the judges table brought me down a bit, i'll admit. i chafe to be away... but i also wouldn't trade the last two weeks to be there.

yesterday afternoon, my minivan rolled into our driveway on a wing and a prayer (ok, more like a slightly-leaky front-right tire and a 0% oil-life alert lamp, but whatever). the fam and i just finished a 5,000-mile trek from our north carolina home to the [semi-]wilds of wyoming, where we camped amidst bears and bison in the badlands, yellowstone & grand teton national parks. we hiked through 103-degree days and slept through 34-degree nights. we saw unbelievable works of man-made art and substantially more unbelievable works of nature-made art. we expected the trip to be cathartic, wonderful, and harrowing... and it did not disappoint.

i'm not sure what compelled my wife, stacy, and me to do it. most of our friends literally responded with laughter when we mentioned our upcoming adventure (about which we were naively excited). when i was a kid, that was what our vacations were. we would pick a direction - usually 'west' - we would start driving, and after a few weeks of whimsical exploring, we'd go home. if my parents ever had 'a plan', they kept it well-hidden. my dad and i would race to put the tent up at rocky, windy KOA's and record our best times. we'd see a sign for a prairie dog home or a giant ball of twine and pull over. at the end of the trip, my brother and i would have arm-long lists of crazy things we'd seen, but it always felt organic and extemporaneous. one of the things i love most about my wife is that she's up for this kind of thing; for spontaneity, and bugs, and dirt; for nurturing fires and driving through the night without a clear sense for when or whether wyoming will ever end.

sitting in a car for thousands of miles can be boring, but there's also something to it that i found invaluable. i've seen so much of my country because of those trips. i sleep well outside and can make a meal out of anything because of those trips (my mom once resorted to ranch dressing sandwiches). i can look out a window engaged for hours while passing the most desolate stretches of kansas or texas because of those trips. cheesy though it may sound, you grow together as a family on this kind of trip too, even if only by virtue of never-ending proximity. passing on those experiences to my own kids has always been the plan.

because of stacy's schedule and my own impending school year, these past two weeks were our only shot for an epic, griswoldian road-trip. although we entertained various schemes of my abandoning ship to fly down from nashville, it gradually became clear that worlds would have to be sacrificed this year. while in the parks, i had no qualms whatsoever. it's hard to have 'qualms' while you're submerged in the waters of a glacial lake or being chased by a buffalo while holding a 3 year-old. it was really only on the drive back that i started to realize: 'damn - i'm gonna miss worlds.' and so began several days of progressively intensifying ho-hummery.

on the trip, i didn't want to be bogged down with a ton of yo-yo stuff. a few years ago, i was totally that guy who would have FOUND room for a 72-star case full of throws, even if it meant i didn't get a sleeping bag. now i realize that quantity is overrated, so while packing, i set aside precisely 1 (one) yo-yo - a red/black 2nd-run thin-gapped flying v which i've banged off of essentially every material known to man. i brought 6-7 cotton strings, some thick lube, and a spare wide bearing in case i wanted to pretend i'm any good at 'regular' 1a. you don't 'need' as much as you think you do.

packing a car for a trip like this is an art form, and i worked diligently to appease the spirits of my pepere (who's ability to pack an rv was legend) and my dad (who is still very-much alive). when i was little, my parents would ditch the middle seat of our minivan, throw down a blanket, and my brother and i would basically roll around the middle of the vehicle playing with action figures, reading, or drawing for the duration. apparently, the authorities take seatbelts somewhat more seriously now, and to my kids' chagrin, we had to have them in actual seats (most of the time). though it took me an hour or two, i eventually had the odyssey packed tightly and efficiently, with full access to food and toys and total rear-view visibility. no crevice went unused.

... except, apparently, the one i used to stow these yo-yo's a few weeks ago.

one time, i asked my buddy jack 'how do you 'display' your yo-yo's?', to which he responded, 'at this point, it's really more of a 'containment' issue.' i can relate to that. i have a 'yo-yo room', but inevitably several escape or are relocated by the kids, and i find them in unexpected places, like unbidden gifts. a few weeks ago, i was driving to the midnight showing of the new harry potter movie, and given the fact that i'd be waiting in line for a solid hour, i brought a pair of 3-in-1's out to the car with the idea that i'd work on/show off my mediocre 2-handed while waiting to get into the theater. i stuffed them in one of my new van's 75-odd 'compartments for stuff', and promptly forgot about them. i remember wanting to go retrieve them, but not enough to sacrifice a good seat. the movie was entertaining (AND late), so i just didn't think of them again until i looked for the pressure gauge in iowa.

it was nice to have these guys on the trip. i didn't intend to do any looping (aside from the retro-regens and lunar-landing variations that i always do with the v), and no matter how modern 1a develops, people - particularly the very old and very young - will always see 2-handed loops as the pinnacle of yo-yo magic. i worked with these just as much as i played my flying v over the past 2 weeks, learning no new tricks, but continuing to develop skills i've been working for years. i love how LONG it takes to be good at 2a, especially with wood & cotton. with the on-again, off-again effort i've turned in, wyyc-worthy abilities would take as long to create as the teton mountain range. but i also love that once you arrive at pretty-ok, decently-shaped, consistent loops... the simplest nuances become utterly satisfying.

somewhat surprisingly, i played a lot of yo-yo on this trip. on trails, at gas stations... even knee-deep in a stream. i like playing outside under the sky. if you've never done 'shoot the moon' under the actual moon, you should try it (but don't clock yourself). playing a wood yo-yo while out in the woods is also a feeling worth experiencing. i miss being at worlds with my friends, but it also occurs to me that the real center of 'the yo-yo universe' is not the world yo-yo contest in orlando, but wherever we happen to find ourselves playing. it's reasonable to see my friends on the feed and miss them, but this was such an unforgettable trip, and i got to explore (and yo-yo) in so many surreally beautiful places that it's a little silly to be glum about it, even for a second. it's hard to be away, but sometimes you have to make yo-yoing 'in the world' just as meaningful as yo-yoing 'at worlds'.

congrats to everyone, and safe travels home.

yo-yo #88: caitie's flying v

today i was yo-yoing with my daughter. it's father's day, but that's irrelevant.

it's a funny thing to say, in part because i never really thought she'd want to play yo-yo at all. oh, sure i gave her one when she asked me. in fact, i've given her a few over the years. but having a yo-yo somewhere in your room (under the bed or in dresser-drawers) and actually playing with it are two very different things. a few weeks back, i gave her another new yo-yo; this one. it's one of my green, first-run, star-grade flying v's. i don't remember what precipitated her asking to try it, but for whatever reason, the synapses in her brain were prepared to gel with some new-found small-motor awareness, and she was off and running; able to play 'for real'.

she's got maybe 20 tricks down now, the most difficult of which is probably trapeze. she's still getting split the atom and double or nothing dialed, and frankly, i don't care if she ever does. i LOVE that she's an eight-year-old playing with a toy, and that she delights in picture tricks, around the world, and creeper. she's at a point where i've seen countless school-age kids (mostly boys, i guess) 'make up' a dozen tricks in the course of an afternoon, playing with an unbridled glee that will almost certainly atrophy into sad oblivion later on in life [/depressing].

there's something reflective in watching your progeny do something that you, yourself love. you evaluate it with a fresh understanding, and the desire to shake off your own calcified routines and molt from a caked-on adherence to to non-existent rules seems unavoidable. caitie isn't very 'good' at yo-yoing by the prevailing standards, i suppose. i wonder though, what does an old major leaguer think when attending his son's little league game. does he suppose, as johnny connects weakly with the ball and sprints the 45 feet to first, every fiber of his being crackling with vitality and excitement... that he's not very good at baseball yet?

i watch her giggle and invent tricks like 'ballerina', in which she lifts the yo-yo overhead and slowly pirouettes en pointe... and i wish to hell that i could be 'good' at yo-yoing someday.

the ways to be 'good' at yo-yoing are so vast and numerous that really, none of them have any significant meaning. it goes without saying that if you're going to play for any length of time at all and NOT pull out all of your hair, at some point you're going to have to reconcile this and submit to defining 'good' for yourself. i'm a parent and a school teacher, and it occurs to me that the vast majority of yo-yoing that i see gets done by kids. and since a person assigns value based on what he/she experiences... i guess i define 'good' in increments of joy.

there's not much in this world that's more difficult than appreciating the perspective of 'the other', by which i mean true empathy and not just a vague ability to tolerate different views. when you consider that most yo-yo players are youngish males, simmering in the kill-or-be-killed environment that is high school, is it that surprising that the dominant standard of 'goodness' is competitive glory? when you consider the explorative, iconoclastic, define-yourself-now subculture (actually, there's nothing 'sub' about it) which pervades the internet, and so the world... is it surprising that the next most popular standard should be innovative and groundbreaking?

there are as many ways to be 'good' at yo-yoing as there are yo-yo players. in all aspects of life, i think it's important to dig into the views which you, yourself don't understand. what are the circumstances and motivations which drive them? how do others define 'good' and why?

last week, my friend drew asked a terrific question: 'what do you have to do to be called a 'great yo-yoer?' ... now, i see a big difference between the qualifiers 'good' and 'great', but i'll get to that later. when i thought about it, i came up with some fairly high standards. my response wasn't intended to read like my 66 rules (which are really a sort of personal take on goodness)... but it kind of ended up sounding like the cliff notes:

a. make it look great. by which i mean unquantifiables like 'impossibly fun' or 'unbelievably stylish' or even 'holy-shit edgy'.
b. push the art forward. boldly go.
c. care about it so deeply that your love for it leaks inescapably into your playing.
d. be able to yo-yo for a crowd (any crowd) and truly hold them.
e. win. a lot. beat the game.
f. teach in a way that people hold on to it. yoyo evangelical.
g. see 'inside' and make associations with other arts, or better, make people watching you do the same.
h. know the history. tricktionary.
i. don't let being perceived as a 'great yo-yoer' be your motivation for yo-yoing.

i know that's a pretty tall order. honestly, i don't believe that there ARE many great yo-yoers out there today. maybe a handful in a generation can really, truly live up to that kind of standard. they're the folks i see in my head when i think of the word 'champion', though hoisting a trophy is only the meanest of that list's challenges. so many of us spend our childhoods dreaming of someday-greatness, in everything we learn to do. unconsciously, we begin to assign value to ourselves based on a comparative rubric delineating 'what we've achieved'. is it enough? am i great?

the truth is that you don't need to be.

true story: my dad is good friends with the poet, dr. maya angelou. she's a wonderful, fascinating person, and deserves more attention and fame she receives (which is considerable). i don't know her well at all anymore, but when i was in high school, i got to speak with her regularly (and, of course, did not appreciate what a blessing it was at the time). on one occasion, when i was a few days away from my high school graduation, she and another professor were over at our house for dinner. i was sitting on the stoop under the mantle, and 'auntie maya' was grilling me on the sort of person i thought i'd be some day. i said something like, 'i don't know what i want to do exactly. i'd like to teach and just... be a great person.' i've never forgotten her response: 'no, dear. the world is full of people wishing and vying desperately to be great. be a GOOD person.'

the point was basically lost on me at the time, but it stuck with me regardless; the distinction between goodness and greatness. to me, it's the difference between intrinsic and extrinsic reward. being 'good' doesn't get you the fabulous cash prize or legendary glory that being 'great' will. being 'good' (either as a person or in the context of some skill) is more humble, more subtle, and ultimately, more important. don't get me wrong: i have no problem with greatness. i think that all of those skills i outlined in response to drew are essential, and i'm putting my nose to the grind to achieve them every day... but the only one that i think really, truly matters is the last (go ahead and read it again).

the point of yo-yoing, for me, is to keep practicing every day, even though i understand i'll probably never be truly 'great'. just to throw down, to invent fun little tricks and giggle about them with my girl or with the kids at school... to receive my flying v's chastising knuckle-smacks with a smile when my mind wanders, or the blessing of a fly-away dismount when i find the way through the trick... to find the courage to play with joy and let the rest fall away... to me, that's what being a 'good' yo-yo player is all about.

and 'good' is good enough.

yo-yo #87: bpzl

anti-yo lives! after a brief hiatus (at least in relative terms), sonny and kiya are returning to the making of yo-yo's (and, evidently, to making them exciting). few companies are able to make yo-yoing seem dynamic in the way that anti-yo did with just 5 releases. their initial offering, the fluchs, had axle issues, which foreshadowed the community's acute awareness of any quality control hiccups which were to occur afterward. yet, in spite of wobble or slippage or plumbers' tape, anti-yo always maintained that strangely undefinable edge which helped build their legend. the folks who loved them always seemed to do so with every fiber of their being, and they had the same daring je-ne-sais-quois that made it cool to skate companies like consolidated in the 90's.

and, if the bapezilla reboot (bpzl) which sonny sent me a few weeks back is any indication, potential design and/or machining flaws are ancient history. this thing is undeniably pristine in its aesthetic and its spin, and i'm glad that our community is so amped about a company aiming to resurrect/improve upon their former glory.

the bpzl is an all-around great yo-yo. to me, it feels more like an old oxy than a bapezilla, having lost the sharpish corners of the original. it's rocking a nice step in the hub like an oxy, too, though it features the one drop axle/side-effect system. the whole package works great. mine is all black, and the blast is significantly softer than the old 'slippe-matte' finish. it feels a little heavy in the hand, but moves through dense layers quickly and fluidly. sonny reminds me that with the side-effect system, you can dramatically change the hub weight, and so the feel of the yo-yo overall. (i only have the default anti-yo hub-looking caps, which is what i'll be sticking with since i love the look.)

in other news, i've been playing a lot of shakuhachi music lately. a shakuhachi is basically just a 1.8 shaku hunk of root bamboo with some holes drilled into it. and while it's featured into some of the most ritualized court music of old japan, it's probably most often associated with the komuso. these itinerant monks would wander the countryside, wearing basket-hats to shroud their identities while playing contemplative flute music. since many of them were former samurai (made ronin by way of release from their lord), they were acutely aware of the need to defend themselves from opportunistic scoundrels, and it's said that the use of heavier root-end madake bamboo developed from its efficacy as a bludgeon.

one of the things i love about shakuhachi is that unlike so many instruments, its austere sound somehow feels as though it's 'meant' to be on its own. it's moving air and bamboo, both of which are prone to inconsistencies, which you can hear even in listening to the masters (the difference being found in the way they 'own' and respond to those inconsistencies - just like in yo-yoing). it's probably the most difficult instrument i've ever learned to make a sound from, because you have to perfectly divide the air over and under the mouthpiece, and the direction of air is different for every note. that said (also like yo-yoing), the aspects that make it difficult are precisely what make it rewarding and addictive.

lately, it's felt as if, as far as my throwing is concerned, the toys are winding down somewhat (to paraphrase les claypool). we all pass through crests and troughs of passion, and i'm certainly accustomed to throwing with less 'piss and vinegar' from time to time. fixating on making art when no need is apparent seems perverse, and the mentality that screams 'i've got to like this! i can't let the world pass me by!' seems misguided.

don't get me wrong - i still play all the time, and i want to keep improving as a yo-yo player... but none of the ways in which i want to improve are easily judged, externally. i want my yo-yoing to be more meaningful. i want to settle more deeply into each successive throw. i want my yo-yoing to be appropriate for its moment and situation. i want to understand how to keep kids enthralled in increments of 5 seconds, 1 month, a year, or forever. i delight in the discovery of strange holds which, like mysterious secret tunnels, may be known only to a few other intrepid explorers on the planet.

there's no clear way to judge these kinds of improvements, and no trophy even if you could prove success.

in terms of goal-attainment, i've done or received a lot of what i feel is reasonable to 'want' as a yo-yo player. some of that has been the result of my own effort, and some are things which just 'happened to me'. maybe my aspirations were small, but absent of a 'burning desire' to achieve x or y, my yo-yoing feels self-contained and relevant to my own needs. that's a good feeling, and one that i think every player, from the most casual to world champions, should get to know once in a while.

i feel more and more like one of those [heavily idealized] anonymous monks. i watch my friends and get inspired to throw, but not necessarily to break new ground in the way that they do. i just want to walk around and play. i'm excited about going to contests (a week from now i'll be on a plane to bac!), but the idea of competing in one seems more and more absurd. the tricks i'm enjoying seem to be continually compressed into simpler, more concise versions of themselves (i think i squeeze more glee from one slow, protracted eli hop or a well-executed flyaway dismount than i once would have found in a dozen blitzkrieg tricks). and the strange part about all of this is that it's not a lament. in some ways it feels like a kind of death, but i'm enjoying it.

i imagine we all go through times (whether we examine it or not) wherein it seems that every aspect of our lives is built around our passions. as i mentioned a few posts ago (and so probably almost a year), i'm a yo-yoer, from when i wake up to when i go to bed. however, i'm also a dad. and a husband. and a teacher. and an aikidoka, musician, surfer/skateramateurpoetchessenthusiastdisneyworldnutloverofsmallwoodlandcreatures... etc. everything bleeds together, and i'm realizing that what my life gives to my yo-yoing and what my yo-yoing gives to my life are really equal partners.

you can understand a person's motivations through the most [seemingly] trivial actions. how they sleep,walk; how they carry themselves... how they play. people yo-yo for all kinds of reasons. some people play to understand themselves. some people play to connect with others. some people play to be accepted (or exulted). some throw to belong to something and some throw to stand out; to associate or separate. some throw to realize their deepest desires, and some throw to forget them. regardless of your approach, i think on some level, your yo-yoing should serve your life and the world, and not the other way around.

i guess if this exercise in rambling incoherence has to have a point, it's that you need not panic about how 'into it' you are. try to be more conscious of all that your play does for you, and maybe less conscious of whether you're progressing along lines that were dictated to you somewhere along the road. the yo-yo is a forgiving little talisman, and if the spin of your enthusiasm is deteriorating into a wobble, you'll always be free (like anti-yo) to regenerate.

yo-yo #86: hspin pyro #118

it's interesting. my mom has bought me some of my coolest yo-yo's. i guess that's not that interesting, when you also consider that she's bought me some of my coolest skateboards, action figures, clothes, and meals over the years as well. moms rock.

i got 3 yo-yo's for xmas in 2005. back into playing yo-yo hardcore (and also, evidently, 'for good'), everyone i knew was oscillating somewhere between degrees of mild annoyance and outright rage at the amount of time i was playing yo-yo. but when the holidays rolled around, suddenly, everyone had the perfect gift idea. that's one of the nice things about being a yo-yo player - if all else fails, it's a great 'default present'.

my mom didn't treat it like a default present, however. she was out to find the newest, baddest return-top on the block, and found it at the now-defunct extreme spin webstore in the form of the hspin pyro. when i unwrapped it from its tube and threw it down (with a beautiful, hollow 'zzzzzzzzng' noise that no other yo-yo can approximate), the first thing my dad said was 'so can it do 'walk the dog'?' i knew he was kidding, but part of me cringed - like, 'you understand what this is FOR, right dad?' ironically, he understood better than i.

the pyro was, upon its release, arguably the most solid, consistent, and BEAUTIFUL production yo-yo ever made, and it set the stage for how to hype releases for the next few years. to be honest, the oxys probably played better, and the fluchs was perhaps a tad more stylish... but the pyro had everything in one [exceedingly wide] package, and the fact that its ads featured willowy models staring wistfully into the 'soul of yo' didn't hurt its reception with the drooling late-teen boys-club that is yo-yoing.

i'd had metal yo-yo's before this one. however, this is probably the first one i ever owned which i was frightened to throw. it was such a pretty thing that i felt intimidated spinning it so close to the ground. though i gradually shed that inhibition (ask any of my main yo-yo's), #118 remains alarmingly devoid of marks. a couple tiny pinpricks, and that's all i've generated. it'll probably stay that way, too, since i have so many that i now prefer. it's funny that i have several yo-yo's in nice condition like this, amidst brothers who look like they get thrown in a war zone. and it makes me consider that dichotomy which besets and vexes all yo-yoers at some point - i'll call it 'the allegory of the dog'.

to walk or not to walk, that is the question - whether 'tis nobler to suffer the dings and scuffs of outrageous concrete... or take arms against a sea of pain-in-the-ass kids who keep asking you to walk the dog, even though I WAS JUST DOING YUUKI-FREAKING SLACK RIGHT IN FRONT OF THEM!!!

... yeah.

japanese swordsmanship repeatedly references two types of swords: the life-taking sword and the life-giving sword. they're not weapons, but metaphors for levels of a warrior's understanding. obviously, swords are sharp and pointy, and they're made for hacking people up. people who try to convince you that a sword is not built/designed for that express purpose are either deluding themselves... or else need a better sword. swords are built for taking life, and so are warriors (at least at first).

we devise unbeatable techniques, hone razor-sharp reflexes, and practice until we can barely stand (sound familiar?)... all to the end of refining our skill such that no other can overcome it. but the more you practice, and the more of life you see, the more you come to terms with the truth that you can't 'take' it all. the more you prepare for the 'other's' inevitable attack, the more you realize that no other drove you down this path; you drove yourself. you realize that the sword's truest function is not really in the efficacy of its cut, but in its ability to protect and preserve life. and in realizing this, the swordsman arrives at a level of meaning and understanding never approached by technique, alone.

i think it's true of yo-yo players, too. i see some kids practicing with this sort of fury; as though they're angry with the yo-yo for challenging them. i see yo-yoers on stage, in contest halls, or in schoolyards whipping the toy around like a medieval weapon, with an intensity that could melt stone, begging anyone and everyone to observe and be awed. and i think this is good, and that it's important to experience this feeling and understand. but i also think it's important to shed it.

it seems to me that mostly, people try to do things powerfully because they feel 'compelled' to do so, and that's not really power at all. it's true of every walk of life. we all meet people every day who seek to exert themselves upon the world or define themselves against it. but the guys (and girls) who play with real power are simply in command of their art. they don't need to impress anybody, don't need to play like someone else, and don't need to hide under a mantle of epicness. playing yo-yo isn't epic; knowing yourself is.

walk the dog is hard for some people; maybe the hardest trick out there. and it's not because of any technical difficulty (obviously), but because it asks the player to 'lower' themselves - to step off of a pedestal which we spend so much of our waking life polishing. 'i've worked on this for so long, and i can do all this STUFF, and this yo-yo costs $100! and you in your ignorance want me to do the one simple, stupid yo-yo trick you know???' dings sand out nicely, i promise. if you're afraid to ding your $100 yo-yo, to whom does it belong? if your skill is such that it chains you to your pedestal, than its more a burden than a gift.

most of the best yo-yoers out there are pretty happy people; the sort of folks who would not only walk the dog if a kid asked, but literally think nothing of it. and it's not because those people have 50 more shiny yo-yo's in a box at home (some of em might have just the one in their pocket). rather it's because they've come to terms with the truth of what they do. they've spent years - in some cases, a lifetime - battling their way through the knotted jungle of ephemeral geometry which we call home, not to impress some other, but to impress (or discover) themselves. the yo-yo teaches you who you are; it carves you out of rigid granite, throw by throw. the sword GIVES YOU life.

it's said that when you start on the journey, the mountains are mountains and the sea is the sea. then, after achieving some knowledge, the mountains are no longer mountains and the sea is no longer the sea. once you arrive at the truth, the mountains are again mountains and the sea is once again, the sea.

when you start out as a yo-yoer, you're just a kid playing yo-yo. then somewhere along the way, you become a superstar. sometime later (hopefully) you are, once again, just a kid playing yo-yo... which is a wonderful thing to be.

yo-yo #85: Fiend Spitfire

everyone who's ever been stoked to spin a yo-yo, even for a short time, recognizes the toy's potential to transcend the mere act of throwing it. like almost any radical and worthwhile pursuit, yo-yoing maintains the capacity for a lifestyle. to me, mark mcbride has long symbolized this understanding.

his early advocacy for the nascent 3a style, 40-watt halo vids & t's, his book the yonomicon, and his role as consigliere-for-life of the duncan crew (particularly during their early-2000's renaissance) ensure his place in the yo-yo pantheon. to me though, his coolest enterprise was fiend, the yo-yo magazine which, though ephemeral and never attaining the mass appeal it might have, went a long way toward giving yo-yo players a rallying point for their [sub]cultural identity.

although, as is print's tendency and (perhaps) it's eventual downfall, you can't easily find an old copy of fiend. incredibly, the internet has hung onto parts of its old web presence, which if you haven't perused, you should. in describing fiend, bride tapped a literary vein far better than i ever could. yo-yoing's a tough thing to describe, but he nailed it here:

What is a FIEND?

A Fiend is into playing in a deep and serious way. He (or SHE) recognizes that yo-yo (or juggling, or top spinning or whatever prop you choose) is about more than just contests or lists of tricks. Those are merely tools to help you achieve the real "State of Yo." You really get it when you're throwing and you become one with the forces of nature and physics that make it all possible-your movements are a dance with infinity. You are surfing the wave of reality. The trick doesn't need a name, you don't need an audience, you've moved beyond all that. You just know that THIS IS REAL. An old Hindu text asks, "what is the difference between the dancer and the dance?" A Fiend answers "nothing."

i was blissfully unaware of fiend when it was current. as someone who experienced the boom obliquely, and from the 'outside', i knew jack about the online yo-yo world. the only thing i knew about mark mcbride was velvet rolls, the quintessential 3a trick for which ken's-world-on-a-string put up a bewildering tutorial (which was so out of my league that i remember assuming 'well, you'll never learn that; just get it out of your head'). i think i held a copy of fiend once at the mall cart where i hung out circa y2k, but being only 'peripherally' invested in yo-yoing at the time, i was more interested in the peripherals, and i gravitated to the pretty pictures in 'yo-yo world'.

at the time, the idea of being so 'serious' about playing yo-yo as to define any aspect of one's self by it seemed absurd. it's a toy, after all. but then, i'd always thought of myself as a 'skater'... i'd rock vision street wear at school, slap bones brigade stickers all over my notebooks and lockers, pre-emptively duct tape my sneakers to avoid ollie-holes (this was before skate shoes), listen 'religiously' to faith no more and suicidal tendencies, and nod in agreement with thrasher's philosophical observations. for years, skating had somehow held enough sway to effectively carve the stylistic path on which i diligently tread. was yo-yoing so different?

at the time i wasn't ready to consider it, but now, from the moment npr wakes me up to when i crash at night, i'm a yo-yoer. it doesn't just mean that i know this trick or that. i choose my pants based on which yo-yo's fit well in the pocket. i wear my callouses with the same pride that wrestlers take in their cauliflower ears. most of my best friends are 'fiends', and though i may only see some of them a few times a year, the dedication we share for this simple toy is all the common ground we need. for the love of pete, i've written 80-something blog entries on life as a yo-yoer! evidently, somewhere along the road i decided that 'the noble disk' (another great 'zine) is, in fact, a worthy centerpiece to one's sense-of-self... oh, and these days my notebook is covered in yo-yo stickers.

lately, it feels as though things are really spinning (oh, the pun), and i'm not talking about the whole 'boom' thing. i'm not interested in # of yo-yo's sold, but in how yo-yoers perceive themselves, and how the world sees them. bride was years ahead of his time with 3a, and likewise i feel as though the right confluence of variables for a sense of the 'yo-yo 'collective' is [finally] coming together.

you have chris allen, who, while perhaps absent of bride's edge, has worked his ass off to create (in yoyoskills.com) the means for yo-yoers and manufacturers to hear each other. you have paul han and bombsquad borrowing from the norcal skate scene to reinvent the 'yo-yo aesthetic'. you have the studio sessions guys pushing tricks into new and glorious territory (i think of them lately as our equivalent to the aforementioned bones brigade). you have save deth, at long last picking up fiend's torch and releasing a combination dvd + magazine which emphasizes not just tricks or toys, but music and lifestyle. and you have steve brown, once a contributor to fiend and now 9 days into his effort to document and present a yo-yo trick for every day of 2011. modern yo-yoing brims with the kinds of charismatic iconoclasts which, ironically, tend to inspire a sense of cohesion.

it's always a good time to play yo-yo, because yo-yoing is fun and interesting... but this is truly a good time to BE a yo-yoer, because it's starting to feel like something exciting again. my humble thanks to mark mcbride, and to anyone who's ever made that their mission.

yo-yo #84: stock f.a.s.t. 201

last day of school, 2010. we finished up today, and i'm sure impromptu carols and well-wishes are still caroming off the walls and linoleum. i also got to give away 40 yo-yo's today, something i haven't had the pleasure of doing in nearly 3 years. 40 of these 201's.

mind you, it wasn't just a holiday thing; the kids had to earn these (well, ok, kind of). they had to endure 3 weeks of yo-yo physics AND ace a [20 question, all matching] test to take their babies home. they had to learn the difference between transverse and standing waves, and explain the 3 laws of motion with their sleepers, and... yeah. i certainly like to think that they'll retain some of it. i guess i'll let you know in a few years when they get to conceptual physics (and hopefully i am not yelled at). you'll note the faded bison sticker on mine. everyone had an animal avatar to distinguish their throw. bison are cool.

for the last 4 months, yo-yo mania has so fully permeated the halls of the school that i can't make it through carpool duty without being asked for a yo-yo suggestion from a parent, or through a study hall without having to extract a bit of string lint from a bearing shield. yes, it really is that wonderful. it's not like it's been hard or as though i've done anything special. yo-yo's are really, really cool toys. i play with them (all the time) at a school full of kids. you don't smoke dynamite near a powder-keg and expect it to make for an average wednesday.

for 5 years, the 201 has been the first yo-yo i recommend to kids. it looks cool, takes a beating, handles whatever you can, and when you want to pretend that you just NEED an unresponsive yo-yo... it even mods up nice. the velocity is a better beginner yo-yo by far, but i've learned that to a 12 year-old, the numbers 10 and 20 are pretty distant from one another - may they long cling to that naivete.

if you've never had the opportunity, means, or inclination to give a yo-yo to a kid, be they a yo-yo die-hard at a contest, or someone presumably utterly-disinterested by the prospect of manipulating a non-digital toy with their actual-digits... i heartily recommend it. today, and over the last few weeks as our 'yo-yo physics' unit has marched on, i've been able to witness more 'first sleepers', 'first braintwisters', and 'first knucklewhacks' than i could shake a stick at (i've even seen a few spectacular 'first eli hops' and 'first boingies'). when you're in such a position, getting to watch kids fumble through the process of learning to manage string tension and slip-knots... a certain degree of sentimental nostalgia is unavoidable. like it or not, you re-experience your own tentative missteps, and you laugh about how positively awkward you were... just before you realize how awkward you still ARE.

i'm an old man by yo-yo player standards, but i'm not so ancient that i can't remember learning the basics myself. every sleeper on my midnight special felt like a grandiose spectacle, capable of stopping traffic (though it never did). split the atom, i learned on a purple fireball in my college dorm, courtesy of ken's world on a string. i probably did that trick 500 times in 2 days, for (or maybe 'at') every human-person i ran into. i recall being so irritated at bee string that i wanted to return the $2.00 5-pack to toys r us because it kept kinking up... blissfully (or irately) unaware that my own winding technique and total lack of ufo/sidewinder know-how were responsible for the issue. these last weeks, watching some kids try to wrestle their new toy into submission while others found themselves able to handle it with a strange grace... all of these memories are made real again, and it's like looking through a fogged window at a guy i used to know.

i can do things now that would have blown that guy's mind. i've got tricks that are so outside the realm of what i once thought possible that i could make him quit altogether, tossing that fireball into a sewer or shattering that midnight special underfoot. i could make these kids today quit, too, if i comport myself with too much pride, or scoff at their first throws. sure that would sound like a dick move, but i see it on every playground i monitor and, sadly, at every contest i attend.

we've all got a bit of that destructive pride. it's a comfort to imagine that i've made some progress toward that sunset out there; that the horizon i'm chasing is somehow closer for all the knowledge and skill i think i've amassed. but walking around a globe, i'll never reach it; i'll just come back to the beginning. it's easy to feel some pity for said 'guy i used to know'; pity for his ignorance or for how many times his soft knuckles will redden learning lacerations on wood. but watching these kids, i remember that he doesn't need my pity. because it's been a joy. every throw. and considering that, i haven't really come so far at all. on my BEST days, i get to be that guy again.

it occurs to me that in 5 years of teaching yo-yo science, i've probably given away 300 yo-yo's. now i'll grant you that some of em were butterflies, but still... if one of those kids sees a yo-yo when they're 20 and vaguely connects it with some past experience... jeez, even if they don't, it's been well worth the while.

it's christmas-time. give somebody a yo-yo. someone who's never played. and in so doing, embrace your own beginnings, and recognize that (thank god), you're still that same person; beginning all the time.

yo-yo #83: SPYY ronin

one of the things that i like about being a yo-yoer is that it feels a bit like stepping into a stream. submerging your pinky toe, you're instantly connected to [essentially] all of the water, everywhere. likewise, the moment you tie on the slipknot and throw down, whether you recognize it or not, you renew your connection to every other yo-yo player in the world.

around 12:43p today, i twisted up a brand new type-10 cotton and threw a light session on my favorite new ronin. i'm not sure whether steve meant to send me this one as an anomaly, but it's almost hypnotic to behold, especially in the sunlight. it is the blackest blue yo-yo i've ever seen, if that makes any sense. maybe all of that colorway are like that; i dunno. but (speaking of water) it recalls the inky power of waves like cortés bank, which is doubly appropriate considering the graphics. (it's a good looking yo-yo - hey! you should buy it!)

in any case, throwing in my backyard this afternoon, 'vaguely warmed' by a pale november sun, i wondered what my friends were up to. maybe at 12:43, drew tetz was immortalizing audrey hepburn in a new picture trick. steve brown was probably hefting a kid (or two) on his shoulders. jon rob may have been deciding between hats, shoes, or combinations of both. guy said something about throwing no jives with spencer; i wonder if that went down. safe to say that seth was relentlessly pursuing some beautifully incredible concept (which i am not creative enough to visualize). sonny was probably engaged in mid-morning guinea pig frivolity, and it's a fair bet that john bot and abe were laughing hysterically someplace.

when i'm bummed about this or that, i sometimes think about disney world. i have a map of it next to my desk at school (where ironically, i have hardly been 'bummed' at all). i like the idea that between the berms of the magic kingdom, someone is always having the time of their life. even when the park is empty at 3am, it's like it's breathing in, its subterranean tunnels alive with janitors and technicians busying to prepare fresh magic for the morrow.

yo-yoing is kind of the same for me. it's not a place you can go, but somehow that makes it even more sacred. because yo-yoing is always 'there'. every day, we all go to its well to drink. we stand on its platform to express our most sincere selves, but also to learn and be humbled. we reinvent tiny aspects of the art, collectively and perpetually. every time we throw sleeper, someone is sharing our joy on the opposite side of the world. we're all bearing its standard, carrying it forward an inch at a time in whatever direction may occur to us. unless you turn your back on the art completely (and i've never heard a compelling reason for doing that), you always remain a yo-yo player. and our little tribe consists of some of the most 'improbably amazing' characters i've ever come across. to be associated with them (with you) through our mutual compulsion to throw is truly gratifying.

today i thought about all of the people who enjoyed their first successful 'gravity pull' today, maybe throwing at the same time as myself. i thought of all the kids who enthralled each other at playgrounds, or of the precious few who finally got a grown up to admit that 'you know, that actually IS pretty cool!' i considered all of the tricks that would be invented today, and was thrilled to have lent some tiny contribution. i thought about all of this stuff and i realized (once again) the hard-learned truth that the humble 2-ply string which connects us all is more significant than the space that divides us.

yo-yo #82: higby proyo 1

gracious, i am so busy. being a teacher is hard, existence-filling work. i love it, but teaching is not the kind of thing you can really step into 'slowly' or 'half-way' (at least if you aim to be decent at it). good teaching (like good yo-yoing) is about living moment after moment with abandon and getting soaked to the bone. i recognize that i haven't blogged much, and now that i'm back working regular, my rhythms probably won't change substantially.

to compound matters, my daughter is in her first play - a christmas carol. so there are now all kinds of rehearsals to accommodate (not to mention her fledgling tae kwon do career - yes, i'm thrilled she's into martial arts and there was NO pressure on my part, i can tell you). there was a parent meeting for the production the other day; sort of a last-minute 'you understand the insanity that you've signed up for' kind of thing. while waiting to get started, a parent asked me about 'the yo-yo virus' that has effectively permeated the halls at my school. wherever i teach, it's a foregone conclusion that the student body will collectively dive into mass yo-yo-hysteria by november (i'm not bragging - kids like yo-yo's and i am a 'dab hand' at them... it's natural). said parent was buying his kid 'a fifth yo-yo' and he wanted to know more about my involvement with such a weird, niche activity.

these conversations are always charged with the kind of curiosity that seems to beg (tacitly or overtly) for some kind of demonstration, so... whatever... i played some yo-yo for the guy (i threw this yo-yo, which i had in my pocket). i'm always interested by the 'art form' that these little mini-presentations represent. i'm pretty sure i could play yo-yo in front of the pope or chuck norris and not feel too bad about the actual tricks... the awkward part is what comes immediately after - and this is TOTALLY different when you're playing for a group of kids.

when you reveal your yo-yo powers to kids, they allow their jaws to drop. they allow themselves to believe that it's something magical. they allow themselves to 'want in' on it. by the time most people grow up, however, they have shed these wonderful abilities. whether impressed or not, most adults ask questions like 'how did you LEARN that?' and 'how many YEARS?' and 'how much FREE TIME?'. adults need (frequently, though not always) to distance themselves from the perspective of awe, which to many represents an inherently 'weak position'. by adulthood we have been rewarded by saving ourselves from momentary shock and by cloaking our wonder. however, those things always leak to the surface somehow.

the older we get, the more hesitant we are to be amazed. this is natural; we've seen a great deal, if not 'it all'. our brains' synaptic pathways have been firing since before our birth, and we have carved rutted channels that we know better than the back of our hands (or so well, we cannot KNOW them at all for they are HOW we know anything)... through the muddy prism of experience, it's a miracle that we can ever feel anything 'new'. wonder is such an amazing and mysterious thing; so rare and unsettling. looking back, how many ordinary moments can you recall from the last week (or year)... and yet you could probably write a list of the last 20 times you experienced real amazement. when we let ourselves dissolve into a moment that's complete and great, we hang on to it.

i like this yo-yo because it allows itself to straddle the line, and its creator personifies the dichotomy as well. if you've spent any time around john higby, you know that he loves yo-yoing deeply. though he's the consummate professional performer, you could TOTALLY see him ask a 12 year-old at a contest to teach him 'that last trick he did'. this yo-yo is beautiful, but it's not hard to approach. in a world of hard, metal yo-yo's built to resemble alien weaponry, this yo-yo still exudes joy, wonder, and innocence. it still feels like a toy.

every day, i get to talk to a kid (or 10) who comes in and tells me about the 'new trick' he made up... and it's elevator, or it's something like confederate flag, or it's braintwister IN REVERSE. and it doesn't matter that all of those things have been done by most every yo-yoer... they FOUND them on their own. they are 'bartholomew diaz' in a massive storm, driven on by curiosity and daring. they had to be shown at first, but if you have the capacity to give yourself over to wonder, no one can tell you that your efforts are misplaced or in vain.

with every new school i've joined, it's felt like a dry forest floor aching for fire. playing yo-yo is the sort of thing that everyone can do. it takes people out of their most elaborate imaginary-realities and gives an incentive to participate in the real one that is our birthright. kids are shocked to learn that 'hey, this IS something that i can be good at, and... somehow virtually NO ONE else here already is!' it makes me think of all the schools the world over that are just waiting for a lightning strike that ignites this dual-path toward fun and self-worth. it makes me proud of yo-yoing's history - i bet dale oliver and bob rule viewed the schoolyards in the towns they visited in the same way that greg noll viewed waimea bay.

we've all been those school-kids. in some respects, we're those school-kids every day. we wait patiently, diligently, to be amazed. we sit like spires of kindling awaiting a flame. we go to contests and seek out inspiration. we seek out videos and look for inspiration. we read half-baked blog posts and look for inspiration. whether we're learning our 1st trick or our 1,000th, all of us share the tendency to stand under the storm and believe for all we're worth that the 'bolt from the blue' is coming.

because it is... and it's not.

my friend tyler, an inspiration if ever there was one (though decidedly not a role model), turned me on to a great quote this week, by the painter chuck close:

“All the best ideas come out of the process; they come out of the work itself. Things occur to you. If you’re sitting around trying to dream up a great art idea, you can sit there a long time before anything happens. But if you just get to work, something will occur to you and something else will occur to you and somthing else that you reject will push you in another direction. Inspiration is absolutely unnecessary and somehow deceptive. You feel like you need this great idea before you can get down to work, and I find that’s almost never the case.”

the work, our work, is its own 'bolt from the blue'. as yo-yo players or as people, WE need to be the inspiration we wish to find in the world, and not by strutting grandly or playing in some special way... but just by 'getting to work'. a poet-friend of mine always said 'you want to be a writer? write.' there's nothing wrong with seeing a video or a freestyle that moves you, but don't con yourself into the belief that you're in an inescapable creative rut without those extrinsic catalysts. play yo-yo, bring something into being. the only thing that separates any of us from history's most creative, innovative yo-yoers, is that while we may wander around searching for inspiration or assume that it's 'coming any minute' from some great beyond... they're in a constant state of BECOMING it. they're deciding to manifest it, moment by moment.

it's sort of a paradox. we all have to be initiated. we all have to be bitten. but once we ARE, it's no longer anyone else's responsibility to be our inspiration. at some point we have to find the way to be our own.

to do so is certainly a skill, one toward which some have a more natural proclivity... but that state is within everyone's reach. i have to wonder whether the reason why more people don't see that; why (whether in our play or our everyday lives) we set up the dichotomy of 'that guy's incredible and i'll die mediocre'... is because like the adults i mentioned, we're a bit scared of amazing ourselves. we're unnerved by the idea of looking into ourselves and finding an unmeasured well of inspiration, because, i guess... 'what then?' (if there are no ceilings on our creative potential, then how much harder must we work to realize it?). or maybe we've so effectively conditioned ourselves to take our inadequacy for granted that the idea that we, ourselves could fuel our own fire seems slightly preposterous.

what if those conditioned responses could be reset? would that we whom life has taught to know better could be like the kids i teach; absolutely enamored, not of themselves, but of play, of what they're uncovering every other hour... of all that is possible and real and undiscovered.

yo-yo #81: 8-bit freehand

what are the limits of what you can own?

it's an interesting question to consider, given the current climate of the yo-yo world, which suddenly seems to pulsate with a toxic compound of indignation and confusion over 5a. duncan yo-yo's has stepped forward to exercise control over their 'possession', the freehand style of yo-yoing. while the quotes ARE meant to indicate my bewilderment at the idea that a STYLE of yo-yoing can be owned, steve brown's original patent does account both for the materials AND the technique. so if you're doing 5a (at least anywhere anyone can observe you)... i suppose the implication is that you're playing with duncan's toy, and depending upon their generosity in allowing you to do so.

yes, i think that's preposterous, but in legal terms, they do own and control the style of play. fortunately duncan (via my good friend brandon jackson) has stepped forward to say that they are NOT going to litigate against 'individual players', sponsored or otherwise, who just want to play or compete in freehand. the stickiness begins with their claim that they ARE going to be actively enforcing their patent against being used by rival companies. clearly, anyone who attempts to do the math recognizes the complete lack of clarity that this offers.

i'm an individual player, but i also have access to the spyy website. i have to think that if i tried to post a 5a video on there advertising the new stryker... duncan would not be cool with that, regardless of whether it was done with the 'intent' to advocate spyy for 5a. (this is just an assumption, but they certainly weren't 'cool' with yoyofactory's 5a may videos, which did more to promote and encourage 5a play than any company has in a solid while.) could an 'individual player' like andre boulay put 5a instructional videos on yoyoexpert.com? i mean it's an online store that sells duncans, but certainly everyone associates andre with yoyojam (plus they sell every other manufacturer as well). and then you have the issue with guys like miguel correa and tyler severance, both of whom are employees of yoyofactory and on anyone's short list for greatest 5a player of all time. would their continued contest performance or new trick videos constitute an advertisement for yoyofactory? and if prohibited from doing so, is there really a greater disservice that duncan could do to the style?

i have a headache.

i understand duncan's perspective. they HAVE this awesome thing, and nearly every other company has, in some way (purposely or accidentally, directly or implicitly) USED it to sell their yo-yo's. it's good business for duncan to say 'OI! only WE get to use our stuff to sell yo-yo's!' if they don't do that, they effectively sacrifice their ownership of the patent. at the same time, however, to begin to enforce their possession of the style immediately vilifies them in the eyes of many. i think most yo-yo players want to see all of the best players throw 5a without fear. i think we'd like to see all companies be able to celebrate it - to benefit from it AND give to it. but such an idealized view does not feel very realistic right now.

scenarios like this are amusing to watch unfold, if only because they polarize the community so sharply. we dilligently heed drama's clarion call and file into our respective positions:
• 'throw duncan!': "it's not duncan's fault, guys! they own 5a and have the right to protect it!" (this view, while initially valid and interesting, is quickly delegitimized by the guys who use it as one more soapbox in their attempt to denounce "those copycats" yoyofactory the loudest).
• 'duncan = suck!': "whether they want to or not, this is going to kill 5a! DON'T TREAD ON ME, DUNCAN!!!" (again, lots of good points to be heard, but they're muffled by the furious knee-jerk yells of misinformed bandwagon-jumpers.)
• 'who even cares?'

i like duncan, or at least the idea of duncan. i like their plastic yo-yo's, a lot of em. i adore its history, and standing on stage with bob rule, dale oliver, and chris neff at worlds was an absolute honor. i certainly love my friends, brandon and drew and takeshi and hank and jack and nate and dimi and jeff... and look up to guys like senba and kohta to the extent that i could barely introduce myself at worlds through stammers and blushes... but those guys aren't duncan, or at least not all of it. for me, the 'warts & all' has to include the cease & desist letters sent out by a faceless legal dept to anyone who maintained a site using the words 'imperial' and 'butterfly'... or to chris allen, who tried to use an iconic 'yoyoman' image on his then-fledgling yoyoskills. it has to include the tumult and uproar with which my friend steve left the company, and his description of his treatment by the brass. it has to include perplexing, alienating stuff like this, with the result that i like the company... but find it hard not to hate the COMPANY.

personally, i'm not really a 5a player. i mean i enjoy it, but i'm not out there coming out with new stuff (at least not new stuff that isn't stupid). the north carolinian in me certainly objects to being reminded that a style of yoyoing i enjoy is OWNED by a bunch of suits. i highly doubt that any of the flambeau legal a-team will parachute into my yo-yo club or break up my corner-store shows to serve me with papers. that's not really the point. even though duncan's intentions could be seen as in the interest of self-preservation... it still leaves ordinary yo-yoers hurt and confused to be effectively told that '5a doesn't belong to you.' and the pain and confusion may be compounded if, as the smoke clears, our most dominant and creative 5a demi-gods are no longer able to express themselves 'freely'.

that reminds me of a quote i recently reread. it's from the yoyoguy forum way back in 99, when steve brown had only just revealed his new discovery. it was being suggested that he patent 5a, and his response was as follows.

For me to patent a style of yo-yo play would be silly. First off, that would assume that I had the money for the patent in the first place. Second, that would assume I was making enough money off the patent to be able to defend it. And third, I am not really big on all that lawsuit crap. It's what killed Duncan in the 60's, I see no reason to be part of THAT tradition. It's FreeHand, and it's free. If you want it, take it. Just let it be known that I found it, that's all I ask. (Please note that I take no credit for CREATING it....it already existed, I just found it. Yo-Yo tricks cannot be created or destroyed....much like matter.)

how ironic that, given these sentiments, all of this has come to pass. it WAS patented, and the patent was sold to duncan for royalties (duncan, which surely DOES have the money to be able to defend it)... and now until the big d steps forward to offer some concrete standards for what will and will not be tolerated, the perception that said patent is being held over the heads of companies (and by proxy, yo-yo players) is likely to hold. ... 'FreeHand' indeed... funny old world.

anyways, i don't want to give the impression that i'm too butthurt about it, or that i don't think duncan has a point in trying to protect their property. i think, i (like most every yo-yoer) just want to see how things will shake out. it's a very cloudy business trying to maintain control of a style that has always prided itself on free expression. it's also tough to overcome inertia, and part of me will be surprised if 5a truly sustains any damage over this. of all the play styles, freehand feels the most irrepressible and resilient. the style is like a constantly-evolving organism. the materials may be owned, the 'technique' or 'idea' may be owned, but how do you own something that is as alive as all the players who have breathed fire into it this past decade? it belongs to duncan... but it cannot belong to duncan more than it belongs to yo-yoers.

for my part, i just threw some of my [embarrassingly poor] freehand a minute ago, and think i may do so again momentarily. i must admit that did not use this 8-bit freehand (or any duncan), which is a solid, wonderful player that has never let me down. i did so to remind myself that no matter how the winds of the yo-yo world may howl (and they don't howl so loud when you think about it), and no matter what page 37, paragraph 3, item xiv may say... my yo-yoing always, always belongs to me... yes it does.

... yes it does.



edit: this release was just put out by duncan, and seeing as they did exactly as so many in the community have clamored for (in responding clearly and directly), i wanted to revisit this and share my reaction. click if you like.

yo-yo #80: OLD filligree mandala

the other day, my good friend (and yo-yo superstar) jensen kimmett, showed me a video of a pair of bearded brothers from new york who run a chocolate business. now, i love chocolate, and it must be understood that they probably could have talked about anything... or even just hooted and grunted... and i still would have enjoyed the piece. however, jensen introduced the vid by suggesting that these guys are 'the CLYW of chocolate makers', so naturally i paid special attention to their approach to chocolate so as to discern his meaning. and i'm glad i did.

to save you from the need to watch the video (which i think you should, because it's neat)... the mast brothers don't just make as much chocolate as they can and get it into every big-box store possible. rather they take pride in making a little delicious and unique chocolate agonizingly slowly with care, they select the best cacao beans and painstakingly wrap the bars they make in thick, artfully decorated butcher paper. they're even planning a sailing trip across the atlantic to scout out new sources of the precious beans. the way they view chocolate is refreshing. they see it as a CRAFT; as a worthy expenditure of their time and energy... as a lifelong challenge.

it got me thinking about the make-up of our yo-yo world. i'm proud to be a yo-yoer for many reasons. however, i think that one of the most clear of these is the dedication to 'the craft'. we live in an age where 'craft' has become an anomaly. just a few generations ago, whatever devices upon which you relied upon, you needed to thoroughly understand so as to keep them working. the lakota on the prairie HAD to understand the crafts associated with turning a living, breathing bison into tools, shelter, and food... or else he had none. the 18th century blacksmith worked long hours over a sweltering furnace, handling rough tools from which most modern hands would shrink... not just to express his artistic spirit, but to provide for himself, his family, and his village. understanding one's craft was, until very recently, essential for any productive member of a society.

i think that, in this world of decadent convenience wherein we find ourselves, yo-yo players and makers feast upon our respective crafts, self-indulgent though they may be. you do not truly need to master a craft today to get along. in fact, devoid of incentive or clear reward, most people don't. you can spend your day in a cubicle selling policies you barely understand, pick up kfc on the drive home, fill your car up with gas that 'magically' pours from the pump, and fall asleep watching television in air-conditioned comfort... and society will tell you that you're 'doing well for yourself'. (consider, i don't intend to berate people who choose to live their lives in such a way - just to intimate that you don't need to 'do' or 'make' much today to be 'a success'.)

in part BECAUSE of this truth, we are entering into an age where one's craft holds a new and invigorating value. in a society where it's not 'necessary', taking something seriously and putting the full measure of one's energy to it reveals a quality of thoughtfulness and patience that can seem alarmingly outmoded. perhaps BECAUSE we have dissociated ourselves from 'where our things com from', well-made, hand-crafted objects are now enjoying a renaissance. selvedge denim, fitted wool caps, artisan beers, 'crafted' chocolate... it feels somehow edgy and rebellious to dedicate one's self to a craft. and in this age of brilliant machinery, it's exciting to handle a thing made with real, human care.

this example of the beloved no jive 3-in-1 is the 'filligree' mandala. though i don't have exact dates, it was made at some point in the 80's, features the standard 'take-apart' construction that was introduced by the model, and is probably the most stunningly engraved yo-yo i've ever seen (the more modern version of the same engraving hardly even looks like the same model). i prefer a yo-yo like this one because you can really see what went into it. this particular model is made of beautiful, aged hard rock maple. although beaten to a pulp by unforgiving years, it still spins beautifully, and the care, depth, and precision of the engraving makes it a true heirloom (to me). the hex nut has been overtightened a bit (something i know how to fix), and it could use some tuning. but then, so could we all. it certainly isn't a perfect throw. any genesis-armed teenager at a contest would probably scoff at this old woody's vibe following 'the fingernail test'. like any take apart wood yo-yo, you have to blend with it, find the sweet spot, accept its flaws (as you do your own). and like any fixed axle, it's not going to allow you the luxury of time in executing your tricks. you've got now - best to use it.

in a world that values function over form, it's an anomaly. but like the mast brothers' chocolate, this kind of yo-yo isn't necessarily meant to be 'a consistent' product. in fact, in some respects, it's meant to be the opposite, since the medium is inherently inconsistent. this, however, brings into relief its authenticity. this toy was turned back when tom ran the old san francisco workshop. he did it not for wealth or glory but for the simple love of the craft, and of yo-yoing. that truth alone makes a yo-yo like this a legitimate joy to play. when you care about a thing enough to inject your own meaning into your craft, you give something great and intangible to it; you soak it with an energy that does not dissipate with dings or chips or rotten days. i won't call it 'soul', which players love to attribute to their favorite throws... but it can make YOUR soul to want to burst from its shell while playing it.

though tom no longer makes new yo-yo's, we're truly blessed to be part of a micro-community that still brims with this attitude. a look at virtually all of the smaller manufacturers right now reveals a set of truly dedicated craftsmen, each ready and willing to put something of themselves into the beautiful toys they make for us. while not all hand-turned, the degree of attention put into planning, machining, and testing these yo-yo's will ensure that they're remembered as the heirlooms of tomorrow. support them and say thanks.