Today, Christos and I will spar in a half hour, that would be at 7:30. this makes my fourth day of sparring. Yesterday went well enough. Christos is gracious, assertive, gruff—a high end knucklehead. He bought me a bottle of moonshine made right up the hollow from the writing house he made for me. That moonshine will stay corked until Portland. The man that made it has a strong handshake and an honest smile. He also has 11 children and a boy he is raising.

Yesterday his gorgeous woman flipped her truck on the mountainside driveway. She is okay. As we worked on training the elbow foul he suggested that he’d plant her at a fight and have her gain the attention of the ref at the moment he elbowed his man. This is a good place. A fox is hunting her chickens. I saw him yesterday, a slick operator.

Christos is taking to the bare knuckle game. Today I will go bare fist and pose as he uses me to work on entries and shifts. Three days in a row of sparring lit the leg nerve up last night. I had to crawl for the nerve medication in the middle of the night, am a bit dopey. The rope snake has helped a lot with bare knuckle flow drills. I can see Christos taking his grit into the high end bare knuckle scene. He will be stronger than and man in his weight class.

Yesterday, while Christos was at the hospital with Ellie May the Smoking Hot Edition, I cleaned his kitchen, which he trashes in his rampant way—juggling workouts, projects, shooting—and then has her cook in. thought it was the least I could do for the lady. He works hard as an auto-mechanic and still takes the time to look beautiful for us cave men. Christos appreciated the organization.

Last night I spoke on the phone with Richard Barrett about his continual quest to chart the ages old war between the eagle and the serpent. His latest sub-quest is rectifying Apollonian and Christian metaphysics. His high morality makes this quest in such a recently [in Richard’s ages long world view] defiled world painful.

The birds here, a kind of critter I know so little about sing after dark in one haunting mitre and help an old soul creep towards purpose with the dawn. The old futon is comfortable and the guy calls. I can hear Christos down at the house. I just got back from mixing instant coffee and protein powder in a bottle of water for breakfast. My host, the fighter—whose identity is combat—has helped motivate me to get back in shape. He is the first man since Rick, I’ve spent time with that ahs that high brass personality. “I’m an asshole. I don’t do well with positive reinforcement. You’re not THAT fat—you can fix that with a three day fast for a start—my girl does a 70 hour fast regularly…”

Today, at about 9:30, we drive down the mountain to pick up a viking, a 20 year old prodigy, a near giant I trained with late last year. He stopped by yesterday. We will be off to a camp, a farmstead rally of more than a hundred men from various “active clubs.” These fellows are coming from around the country to celebrate the 250th anniversary of their beloved country. It is not my country. But the men who regard it as theirs have been kind to me, strong for me, and gracious in tolerating my weird indifference to their world.

I will help as I may. Christos wants to make some fights on the 4th of July at the came. I will tend the gloves and corner for the underdogs, perhaps coach in small points. There will be some kind or march for which Christos will work security. He take this very seriously. I won’t march, of course—he said, “I figured that’s not your style.” But, these men could use a pair of roving eyes scouting for trouble. I will, as an old man with a copy of Bullfinch’s Mythology under his arm, make as good a scout as can be found among the geezer herd. Being close to a pack of men, helping men that want to save what is left of their ancestral traditions from the psychic scythe of Modernity, in the very shadow of the gaslit tower of USG, is, for this old wreck, frankly terrifying. But the man grilled me steak last night, and is going to beat me up again without hurting me this morning.

I will help. Christos said, “If you are inspired by what you see, feel free to write about it.”

Thanks, Christos.

God bless.

Its now 7:30.

This one is headed down to the gym.