I Never Wore Black

I pre-paid my dues and was sized up for my Gi, I chose white. It fit well but it didn’t feel right. I wanted black so they gave me black. I never wore black. The good guys always wore white.

* “I Never Wore Black” entry below this quick message

Howdy Readers,

Another opportunity to say thanks for the support. I’m slowly working my way towards growth of The Straight & The Narrow. Whether the long form writing or my Check-in on the Base segments, it’s all working the muscles. Mainly the attempt at consistency.

In the coming (days?) I’m going to be making a mighty shift in my presence and announcing the upcoming project that I’ve eluded to through this channel for quite some time. It is going to be an unconventional multi-layered release that resists the music industries status quo.

One of the most beautiful aspects of personal growth isn’t abolishing certain character traits but understanding how to manage, transform and leverage them. As the following entry touches on some rather violent aspects of my past, I need to be forthright that those urges haven’t disappeared in me. But alongside a discipline in physical training, an evolution of my faith, and a recognition of my place in the world I hope to create, I’ve been able to wrangle impulses and alchemize them into a fearlessness. An extension of this is a confidence in continuing to blaze my own trail and an unwillingness to compromise my vision.

And, to ask for help.

All the shares, comments, upgrades in subscriptions and words of support act as the most profound fuel. I see everyone’s generosity on this front and will always offer my creative spirit in return.

I’m going to be campaigning in the coming months for an increase in paid subscribers. My attempts will be to do so tactfully, creatively and with gratitude. If you have the resources and are able to make the shift - point blank - you will get the new record in the mail, no questions asked (subject to North America..but more on that to come). Your decision to do so will be seen as an act of belief and I will be in touch.

Much love,

BB

---

I NEVER WORE BLACK

In high school we used to fight. Get a case of beer set out the back door of the bar and head to the park. Depending on the alliances, literal teams would divide like a game of pick-up hockey, usually by town, and we’d have at’er. And then there was actual hockey where a tilt was an aspect of the game. Amped up on adrenaline, another kid touches the goalie and my poor mother would be begging us to stop from the stands. Finally, rodeo cabarets…culminating to the mother of all brawls taking place in October during Dodge City Days in Wapella. The rodeo performance would let out, we’d all make our way to the curling rink lean-to, they’d over-serve and all hell would break loose. Needless to say, by the time I turned 18 I was as confident as the Crusades when it came to chirping off at the mouth and throwing haymakers to harvest.

Although not pre-meditated, the inspiration to walk into Complete MMA wasn’t wholly unprompted. It must have been brewing subconsciously. Weeks prior I found myself confronted in a Regina pub after declining a shot of tequila.

“Are you too good to have a drink bought for you?” He refused to break glance.

I stone-faced him as he grabbed my collar and blew vape smoke in my face.

It took every ounce of my new-found faith to resist beating his drunk ass to a pulp. I thought of my son and wife at home, the possibility of tragedy, and turned the other cheek. Literally.

This was followed by an interaction shortly after behind my apartment catching another man looking in the windows of my neighbour’s suite. I yelled up and regardless of being caught he continued to make himself present. Upon attempted (unsuccessful) work with the police and further research we discovered he was a convicted rapist on parole.

So, walking into Complete MMA in an attempt to confront my addiction to weed came with a history of violence, a bruised ego, and a responsibility to protect my family.

I pre-paid my dues and was sized up for my Gi, the conventional training uniform used in Brazilian Jiu Jitsu. I chose white for the same reason I wore a white (silver belly) cowboy hat; the old adage that it distinguishes “us” from the “bad guys.”

It fit well but it didn’t feel right. I wanted black so they gave me black.

There was no introductory class. Just start showing up. A warm-up, drills with a partner and then roll. The intimacy is almost abashing, laying on-top another man thinking through your next manipulation of his body. But it passes. There is no room to be uncomfortable with the pressing physicalities, the sport is that of closing space between yourself and your opponent. From the small and strategic to the explosive and aggressive. Moves and counter-moves in a dance of patience and design. The attempt to submit and the humility attached.

Dad remained in the hospital, two blocks east of the gym. I ran like a child following class to share my new discovered passion with him. As a devout supporter of my musical pursuits, this hit him different. He anticipated my excitement and we shared my interest. Something was being formed between us unique to this activity. He would be in his bed, I would close the door and climb on top of him demonstrating whatever submission tactic was learned earlier in the evening. From setting up an arm-bar to executing an Americana-lock, bending his arm in an L shape applying a painful tension to his shoulder and elbow.

He’d let out a yell and I’d laugh, “you gotta tap, man.” I’d dismount and take him out for his last cigarette of the day.

Dad was discharged and I was off the weed. He was back on the farm surrounded by his grandchildren and I had been successfully replacing my addiction. We spoke in the evenings with the majority of our conversations consisting of his delight in my training. I told him I’d like to get to the point where I would compete in a tournament and he pledged his presence. Although we were close, this was a strengthening. His struggles had me desperate to connect and we had found our bond.

I walked into Complete MMA on June 16 and Dad passed 22 days later.

…It fit well but didn’t feel right. I wanted black.

I never wore black.

photo by little jack films