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May 17, 2006

As in to lessen the force or effect of...

Ric Royer

The boxer has no shirt. Eventually he has no shoulders, no legs, no breath. If he comes to realize that the advantages of youth have left him, he might desperately apply technique. More things will go in and out of his head during three-minute rounds than before, and the bell ending each round brings a reason for quitting. But in the end, it's just boxing, and the boxer may come to learn that all he is doing is boxing.
During my last professional bout, I began a round whispering to myself, "proxemics" and "proxemics." I was trying to remember that a space is only capable because people are in(volved in) it. People become batteries for the animation of space.
It wasn't the way I fought that acted as reflective surfaces in which to view my own life, but the way other boxers fought me.
Boxing means I am alive. Games, experiments, pieces, and projects also. Only a living person may fight, write a song, send mail. The art of the self is to demonstrate it.
Looking at it this way, it's becomes routine to strip the performance down to a set of instructions in order to change them. Something my coach meant to say when he told me to "start acting like I'm not being hurt" is that emotions are public.
I am not only a boxer, I am a Caucasian welterweight. My chest gets cherry red when I'm desperate.

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originally appeared in Leather A, by Ric Royer (Ferrum Wheel Press, Buffalo, 2003)

Posted by Rock Heals at May 17, 2006 12:00 AM