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.

yo-yo #79: hspin good & evil 2: poison

here's a yo-yo - a good & evil 2: poison. i've always liked this yo-yo.

ok, now that we've got THAT out of the way... i'm always intrigued by others' motivations for playing yo-yo. i'm big on the idea of awareness, and performing a sort of ongoing, live mental-autopsy on myself has become an ingrained habit. i've got a lot of 'extrinsic' reasons to yo-yo:

• i get a lot of attention (way more than i feel i deserve, actually).
• it's kind of offbeat and interesting; people like asking about it in line for coffee or what-have-you.
• kids love it.
• i can do it 'better' than other people.
• i can acquire lots of shiny things.

by and large... all of those reasons stink for me. momentarily comforting though they may be, i see gaping holes in all of them. if, on the path of yo, you use some combination of those as your 'compass', i think you'll get lost and get really, really tired of it. now, you may not see it that way, and i actually do appreciate that. i recognize that i don't speak for anyone else and i don't mean to preach... but i mean... you know me; i am anyway. (and i'll probably use too many semi-colons in the process.)

as awful and incomplete as i find those 'most apparent' reasons to play, i actually do see a number of reasons that ARE valid, and i aim to concentrate on those for a minute. being a yo-yoer IS awesome and worthwhile, and when i try to break it down (which is itself, a difficult and possibly counter-productive task), i come up with the following reasons to supplant those previously mentioned.

• the players: yo-yoers represent a really interesting cross-section of world culture. and while you get people from all kinds of backgrounds and with all sorts of differences, their passion for this ultra-specific mode of expression is a common thread (so to speak). over time, i've developed friendships with a lot of the perceived 'elite' yo-yo players (no, that is not meant to signify 'elitist'), and by and large, it's just fascinating how fully their talents permeate their personalities. most awesome yo-yoers aren't just awesome yo-yoers; they're multi-faceted people - artists, musicians, incredible dads, athletes, aesthetes, philosophers, designers... yo-yoing is something they happen to share, but expression just seems to leak (or blast) out of their every creative outlet. when yo-yoing is just one aspect of a person's makeup, it's so much easier to prevent burnout. i think the 'creative drive' is what i tend to find so compelling about 'yo-yo people' (more so than the yo-yoing). understand, i don't view yo-yoers as a reason to yo-yo in terms of some facebookian attitude of 'friend collecting'; rather the people can help you to view YOURSELF as the multi-faceted individual you are, and as a creative force. when you decide to place yourself not OVER other yo-yoers, but rather AMONG them, they possess the capacity to make you better, as a player and as a person.

• the tricks: i can absolutely lose my self in the tricks. note the "_" between my and self. when i'm throwing yo-yo, and really putting my energy into it, all of the interlocking preferences that i build my self into on any given day just tumble to the ground like misplayed jenga blocks. i don't care how my hair looks. i don't worry about being able to afford the new kicks i think i want. i don't t fuss about that co-worker who grates on me like a medieval hairshirt. i. just. throw. everyone needs something like that. it's available in virtually every pursuit - i just find it in yo-yo tricks. you need to find solace from your self ('a vacation from your problems', to quote 'what about bob'). it's no wonder at all that people who play yo-yo 'compulsively' and worry about 'the quality' of their play get really tired of it. they're allowing their selves (needs, wants, and haves) to keep bashing away at them as they play. maybe those folks should try knitting (i mean that seriously, with absolutely no offense intended).

• it's hard: it's supposed to be. while i wouldn't advocate for yo-yoing as a manifestation of roosevelt's ideal of 'the strenuous life' (hi, artofmanilness.com)... it's good to do things that you find difficult. yo-yoing revolves around the concept of overcoming difficulty. i CAN understand this hold. i WILL hit this trick. i AM going to learn two-handed loops. embracing yo-yoing means embracing that which you cannot yet do, which causes you to recognize your own weakness and inferiority. that realization only punishes those who would otherwise believe that they are great and strong. for a mature person, the recognition of our travails and ineptitude becomes fuel for growth. you don't just do it to collect and acquire tricks and paint them like little bombs onto the fuselage of your life. you do it to discover what you're made out of.

• it happens everywhere: sometimes i refer to my yo-yo as 'a temple in my pocket'. by that i mean you have access to the best part of yourself... always. a professional baseball player only gets to really, truly manifest his art and science on game day (and he needs a ball and bat, 9 friends and a big open field to do it). a great surfer needs a decent wave and a board (the former being frustratingly few and far between). you need virtually nothing to access your self while yo-yoing. a finger. a string. a yo-yo... maybe a pocket would be a nice. people gripe a lot about how much yo-yo x or y cost, but in comparison with essentially ANY OTHER HOBBY, yo-yoing remains delightfully accessible (particularly in the modern era where a cheap yo-yo can still do essentially everything). you don't even have to give anything else up; in fact you shouldn't! one of the best aspects of yo-yoing is its capacity for 'cross-pollination'. i imagine that the fact that the most incredible exponents of the art are also great at other endeavors is no coincidence. being a great painter HELPS you to be a more complete yo-yoer. understanding the rhythm of music HELPS you to understand the rhythm of a trick. it's not required that go off and live in monklike isolation working on yo-yoing all day long. not only will you burn out; you will suffer a worse artistic death - your yo-yoing will stagnate like some hidden, uninhabitable sulfuric pool.

• there is no finish line: you will never know everything. you will never be able to do every trick. you will die ignorant. embrace this. CELEBRATE IT, because it represents your most basic essence; the pulp of your humanity. not only is there always something new to try (some trick, some style, some variation)... it's always as evident and close-by as the next minor mistake. my wife says that 'boring people get bored', and it applies well to yo-yoing. if you can't see where to take your yo-yoing next, then you need to step back. our lives amount to picking a direction and walking in it. we have to choose, and our choice dictates the conditions of the next set of choices. make a choice and get walking.

we're people, and every person is out to 'get something'. if you've spent years forging yourself into a dominant yo-yo player (or a dominant forum entity), some part of you expects to 'get something' for your efforts (yes it does, liar, don't deny it). but whatever you think it will get you... pales in comparison with what you get if you find a way THROUGH that acquisitive spirit. to re-phrase: in letting go of trying to 'get something', you actually get something more valuable. your yo-yoing is suddenly 'on your side', and you don't need to fight with it. you don't need to slog your way through tricks so you can finally pass 'expert' and work on 'master'. you don't need to grope at people and convince them to subscribe to your youtube or mention you in the 5-daily 'favorite player' threads that constantly illuminate the boards. you don't need to worry about what you've got (respect, toys, attention, skills) - cause you've got all you need.

the [near-impossibly idealized] trade-off is... you have to recognize that in truth, you are a very small thing; at most a particle of yo-yoing (and of the world). you have to let go of the attention and praise (or lack thereof). you have to perceive that while your yo-yoing can reflect all that you perceive, it's not the only mode of expression available to you, and that obsessive overuse can lead to artistic ruin. you have to relinquish your grasp on all of the accoutrements and trappings that we HANG on yo-yoing, and become secure in the faith that just playing as you do and progressing as you can... is substantial and meaningful. (yeah, good luck with all that - to me as well.)

in the words of the immortal bard (by which i mean anthony kiedis), 'give it away, give it away, give it away, give it away now... i can't tell if i'm a kingpin or a pauper.'

yo-yo # 78: team losi cherry bomb

i intended to write about something that i've since forgotten about. that's the kind of thing that happens when you strike yourself about the head with blunt objects.

not a yo-yo this time, actually. i AM getting used to my new loop 900's, but so far i haven't slammed myself with those. i've punched myself in the nog with pretty much every manner of yo-yo. probably the worst 'kablam' i've taken came at the hands of a galactic goose while filming some lame trick to show to drew and seth. that noise still haunts my dreams. i actually don't hit myself with loopers too much, and when i do - well, it's not like they've got a lot of mass. alas, no, tonight's round of self-inflicted trauma was performed with a sword... fortunately (for me) it was a wooden one.

when everybody goes to sleep around here (especially in the summer), i like to go outside to my 'dojo' under the oaks and work out a bit. back when stacy was in residency, she worked regular 30-hour shifts, so every other day, i didn't see her, and when i did she was too exhausted to do much more than ingest a few bites of rice krispies before passing out. in those days, with a three year-old daughter, i rarely made it out to my dojo, so the backyard became one. though our quality of life is exponentially improved now, training out back is a tradition that is too ingrained to neglect.

when i was little, i was afraid of the dark. i remember being terrified, not of grotesque monsters or nightmares... but of the dark itself, and its capacity to produce any sort of terror. i now understand that i was also afraid of the quiet, and of the fact that when enclosed within the night's silent blanket, you are utterly alone... with yourself. over the years, i have conscientiously flooded those fears by learning to sleep outdoors, by sitting outside in total, unforgiving blackness, and to some extent, by these rounds of 'night training'. if you're going to root out the splinter of your selfishness, you're going to have to spend a lot of energy exploring your fears. i'm working on it.

there is something almost narcotic about training alone at night, especially with a weapon like a sword, which is such an anachronism with regard to modern life. alone with myself (not unlike a child in bed) i find myself confronted with ideas with which i'm not always comfortable. like yo-yoing, it's become a way for me to communicate with myself, and once you've had some measure of that, the pull to continue is irresistible. i'm sure it's the same with runners, or people who paint those little metal soldiers, or what-have-you.

so tonight, i was performing a few basic sword katas from aikido, and probably pretty badly. my mind was jumping all over the place. i think i was vaguely imagining some romantic visage of some of the old aikido masters whom i hold in highest regard, performing these same kata on their own, refining their respective spirits (just like me, right?). and finally, in a moment of precient, merciful serendipity, i imagined that i shared a secret with those great masters: that out here, cutting through the night with a sword, there is clearly more to life than the mundane...

it was at that precise moment that my left hand slipped from the hilt of my bokken, the released pressure causing the back of the blade to swing around and nail me right above the left eye. it didn't hurt. i wasn't cut or anything... but the blow to my pride felt momentarily significant. there i was, acting like i had something in common with these 'great masters', when i obviously can't even handle the damn sword properly. what a doofus!

but in the next moment, it occurred to me that the blunder had nothing to do with my left hand, but with my state of mind. what sets the 'masters' apart, in every discipline, is focus. we say 'kime' in aikido (though i have no idea what that actually translates to); the concentration of the mind on the task at hand. sometimes it's wielding a sword. sometimes it's slicing zucchini. sometimes it's playing with a silly little spinning toy. my problem was that my mind was on other people, doing other things, outside of my control or influence... and i got whacked on the head for it. i'm thankful, because if i hadn't, i might have kept training with that mindset, which would have been a waste of a beautiful summer night...

i was swinging this oak sword around, with the implied idea that the night was somehow something MORE than what it was; MORE than life itself. but there is nothing more than life itself... or at least, nothing that i get to understand here and now. 'the fire cannot see the ashes,' as they say. the fleeting idea that there should be something 'beyond' the mundane betrays what an absolute beginner i am at life. in truth, the only thing that sets any 'master' apart as 'great' is his or her utter devotion TO the mundane. when you're holding a sword, don't ponder the mysteries of the universe... JUST HOLD THE FRICKIN' SWORD!

it's the exact same thing with yo-yo. how many thousands of times have i been 'idly' playing, my mind bouncing between faraway thoughts like a hyperactive cricket, only to pull into a glorious snag, yanking the yo-yo back prematurely into my knuckles? it happens especially often with a yo-yo like this: the team losi cherry bomb.

the brainchild of yo-yo renaissance guy, steve brown, the cherry bomb was the 2nd ball bearing yo-yo i ever played (after the raider). my girlfriend's little brother (now my brother-in-law) bought one at toys r us and showed it off. i immediately hated it, but only out of envy. it was way cooler looking than the raider. by that point though, i hadn't caught on to the whole 'butterfly shape' thing, as it would interfere with my mediocre loops. the losi line were among the first to feature an adjustable gap (albeit, it was only adjustable due to a pair of o-rings in the guts (a la the fast 201). still, it worked pretty well, and the cherry bomb allowed a level of string play for which i was not-yet ready.

the thing about c-bombs is that they break in pretty quick (way more so than the renegades which supplanted them as the dominant tool for y2k string-trickery). until they do, however, they will punish your knuckles like ruler-swinging nuns on a pack of truant, angus-young-clad schoolboys. for the first few days (or forever if you keep the gap small), EVERY TRICK requires your immediate attention, and the yo-yo is totally prepared to chastize you should you not comply. after awhile, the c-bomb feels kinda like a pet doberman. sure it could snap at you, but you've kind of learned that for the pair of you to get along... you just need to present and attentive. most yo-yo's out there today are nothing like that. for the most part, there is no break-in period. there is no punishment. we've grown to like our yo-yo's soft and cuddly and forgiving. i'm not saying it's a bad thing - but the lessons of the cherry bomb are lost on many.

is that a bad thing? are those lessons still relevant? i think they are. learning to play yo-yo with focus and care changes the way you approach all yo-yo's. when i'm throwing my shiny new, massive-gapped pro, it's easy to hit obscure, experimental, multi-layered tricks... but it's also easy to 'look away'; to go through the motions and play with a perfunctory, half-absent attitude. i know i'll hit the trick. there are no consequences, or even much in the way of communication between the thrower and 'the thrown'. throwing the same tricks on a cherry bomb is different. even if i'm absolutely present, the wind might blow funny and everything might snag into delicious oblivion. the trick is fragile; in perpetual jeopardy... not unlike life (though we trick ourselves into believing otherwise).

if you're going to play, play utterly. completely. totally. as though the string is the only thing separating heaven and earth. withhold absolutely no measure of yourself and your joy... and maybe in equal part, your pain. don't fuss about what it means or symbolizes. it means you playing with a yo-yo, and that's all. the nearly impossible task; the challenge for a lifetime... is recognizing that that right there is PLENTY. that the mundane IS the mystery of the universe.

people talk about how yo-yoing is meditative, and i guess it can be. but i think you have to be careful with the words you choose. personally, i never want yo-yoing to be transcendental. i never want yo-yoing to represent an 'escape'. for me, it's just about playing with 'the truth of the moment', which is at once a very light-hearted and yet absolutely serious thing. the universe is transient. i know i only have so many breaths and i may be one poorly-considered left-turn away from the last of them... if i'm going to use one of those moments yo-yoing? best believe i want to put everything i have behind it, and that includes not only my high-powered equipment and muscle memory (hi k-strass)... but also, most critically, my focus.

in today's world, you can buy the app, and then... you have it. you can refer to it whenever you need to make that perfect carbonara or check the map of reykjavik (i spelled that right first try!). but there is no app for real understanding. there is no app for kime. people are so used to the rhythm of 'buying and having', they want to say 'i understood once, so i understand now,' but it doesn't work like that. you have to keep trying to understand; keep bringing the world into focus; keep feeling the simple magnitude of the simple, the trivial, the everyday. it's not just in the great and romantic moments where we design our character... it happens as we brush our teeth or take out the garbage. the power and meaning of yo-yoing are not only available in the moment when we finally hit that elusive trick or win worlds... but also in all of the misses and tangles and string-burnt snap-starts that tie our tiny glories together. you have to keep inventing your understanding in every throw. the beauty is... you'll never run out.

yo-yo #77: raw bc blank

it occurs to me that i'm of the last generation of yo-yoer's who learned to throw during a time when transaxles and ball bearings were not widely available. although, somewhat ironically, my first yo-yo was a yomega brain, i traded it away for what was essentially a glorified imperial. fixed axle yo-yoing was just 'yo-yoing' in the 1980's, and for most of the 90's. and while i wasn't a 'serious' player by any stretch (and thank god for that as a child), i think you never really get away from how you defined yo-yoing when you were first exposed to it. my old teacher, the composer thomas oboe lee, once told me that as you 'grow up', you begin to take the greatest delight in the music you heard as a child - that's 'what music is' to you, and you come back to it.

this yo-yo was given to me by matt carter. when i first became aware of the online community, matt was already an established 'yo-yo artisan' with his own aesthetic-mod forum at dave's skill toys. at the time i was much more concerned with function than with form, and i largely ignored his corner, though i'd been regularly impressed by his work.

i got to meet matt at ma states this year, and even played one of his 'crow'd fusions', which i found gratifyingly similar to the flying v in play. although it was not clear to me before this year, matt is hardcore about his wood yo-yo's. i figured he'd dig no jives, seeing as he designed the graphics for at least 3 of the 'modern mandalas', but throwing wood really is his bag. we're kindred spirits in the 'school of lo-fi'.

he handed me this yo-yo at the contest and asked me to throw it around. it's a late 90's blank from the workshop of brad countryman, purveyor of the hummingbird and bc lines, and later tom kuhn yo-yo's. while the bc-era no jives are generally seen as being slightly inferior to those of the san francisco days, he's always had the fixed gap, glued-construction woody completely dialed. this example being no exception, it slid along on the string like molten butter on glass, and i was surprised when matt told me that he, himself had put it together from the parts.

though i protested for a second (or maybe just pretended to), he bade me keep it; to finish it up on my own - paint it or carve it. i've actually left it alone, owing to my sense that i really couldn't add to its simple perfection in any constructive way. he actually gave me another, in parts, to assemble and finish on my own. for whatever reason, it's still in pieces in a cloth bag... perhaps because this one plays so well.

yesterday, i was talking to my friend drew. as usual, we were discussing one thing, and gradually, like some heliocentric plant, our discussion naturally bent toward yo-yoing. drew's planning on buying a longboard, and we were discussing different models. i've frequently highlighted the distinctions between ball bearing and wood axle yo-yo's, and how they compare with other tools of 'dynamic art'. electric vs. acoustic guitars, new school vs. retro surfboards... standard 'trick' skateboards vs. longboards. in each case, the exponents of the former tend to focus on 'results' (fast, progressive shredding, 'destroying the wave', tré flips to smith grinds) while the latter tend to emphasize an attitude of 'cruising'. certainly there are people who attack an acoustic guitar with blindingly fast arpeggios, and i'm not gonna lie - i could hit some pretty complicated tricks on this yo-yo... but i'm not INCLINED to. and i like that i'm not.

as i told drew (and as egomaniacal as it feels typing this), i'd like to develop myself in to the 'gerry lopez' of yo-yoing; and not (please understand) in terms of recognition. it's true that as a surfer, lopez was unmatched, known as 'mr. pipeline' throughout the 70's. he cultivated a tremendous style that became immediately recognizable on any wave. what i find far more impressive, however, is the fact that he has aged with absolute grace. by his own admission, he can't go out and surf pipe at 62 the way he did when he was younger, or the way the young lions attack it now. but he continues to surf, with dignity and elegance, and he seems to treat every wave like it's a gift - which of course, it is. though he was once one of the most celebrated surfers of his era, he's absolutely the kind of guy you can imagine standing waist deep in the shorebreak, pushing some kid into his first wave... without even telling him his name. unlike gerry, my name really IS irrelevant, but i still want to 'be that guy'.

this is the kind of yo-yo i'd like to throw as i grow old (should i be so lucky). i once heard a compelling comparison between psychoanalysis and art. both are designed to explore the inner intricacies and compulsions of the human mind. what divides the two, however, is what's done with the discoveries. when psychoanalysis arrives at a discovery, it holds on to it, applying the truth to one's life and actions and attitudes. when art makes a discovery, it lets the discovery go. when an artist tries to rehash the same idea again and again without moving forward, the result tends to feel unnatural; forced, obscene, stagnant. art's got to be allowed to move on. i don't see myself as old, but i'm acutely aware of the direction in which my yo-yoing is headed. where a couple years ago coming up with a complicated combo would feel fulfilling to me, now i'm more interested in being aware of how a yo-yo feels at it spins, or in the 'thwack' of the wood as it connects with my palm. it's not a lot... just everything.

i don't really believe in the idea of 'transcendence' (at least in terms of moving 'beyond' this moment or place)... but i like the idea of growing past the compulsion to 'do tricks'; at least the fancy ones. i love watching the insanity my friends come up with on a yo-yo, but the older i get, the more the ideal of 'complexity' seems to shrink off into the horizon. when i'm old, i'd like to be the 'archetypical old guy', shooting the moon in the park, approached by some kid who aims to show me up with his new-fangled toy and new-fangled skill... i'd like to be secure enough to let him. a heavily idealized image, to be sure, but it reflects my desire to 'move on toward simplicity'.

i'd like to find the way to apply gerry lopez's 'soul arch' to yo-yoing, and to let that be enough.
because it really is.

yo-yo #76: 'tomoe'

the toy spins
licked by the fire of innocent skin
its whisper-whir breathes
with the hum of free dragonflies
its coils caress
the memory of all summers
intimacies of wood and twine-
young things twirl while
old things remember
drunk in the perfume-haze
of unlocking july
our boy assumes the stars
will turn for him, for ever

but years protrude
like brambles, bloodsharp
as by demons coaxed
from calloused earth
hard work to buy the ground
and hard tools to work it
so joy-like pus
oozes now from drycracked hands
cherished toys are hawked or locked
into dust-colored boxes
there was no then, it seems
and tomorrow is today plus
one more little death
space-dreams and useless loves
must go to seed

with the insignificance and fury
of sodacan explosions
boys die boys-
and fool-men pray on gravel-knees
toward wealthy gods
and candy whores
the wheels of want
turn too, but with an angry noise
all walls and teeth
the song of iron
makes real the sin and stutter of alive
the last electric ghost of childhood
is drowned beneath boot-rhythms
there is no twine which will not rot
there are no toys in hell

all fallendown his warm
blood now imbibed by foreign grass
no boys are left
to whom he might bequeath a box
the artifacts of a september breeze
a ticket stub, now leathersoft
a ribbon soaked with brown-hair smell
a photograph of smilelines and trees
a spinning top (which seemed to breathe
one afternoon
before the water stank with hate)
the world ago
all lost and scattered
waspwings crushed by winter

every thing waits
the air inhales-

-then nervous bird hands
black with pain, white with hunger
past an inch of worms and dreams
explore the soil of tragic lands
find now the so-neglected
toy all mangle-stained
with dirt and days etched deep
with writhing scars-
and tiny joys
all still caressed (they do not fade)
the tapestries of innocence
the shadows of a hopeful heart

mend now the broken world, our girl
please spin (again) the stars