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first off apologies for taking a month between blogs. i gotta just write more short ones and less long ones. but that is my cross, ah, err . . . my um . . . jewish star to bear. last time i used a cross, i had to come out and give a half hearted highly insincere apology and well . . if you know the story, you know the story, and if you dont, well normally i would go into it but that is how these things go off the rails, and next thing you know we are discussing my (fill in the blank) even though the blog was about (use a noun). hey this is kinda like mad libs, oops there we go again, so with out any further adieu . . . .
ravens blog stardate february 3rd or 4th . . or whenever i get around to actually finishing this. believe it or not, i was almost completely done on the 29th, (really it was the 24th but who's counting) but then shit came up, i forgot about it, and "oh snap" as my homies might say, or maybe they wouldnt, its a week later and i am writing this new opening, just prior to finishing the blog. the reason i put 3rd or 4th is b/c i may not get around to finishing this now and even if i do, i may not have the time to load it up. . . . so there.
on with the show . . .
first off, i want to think vic for giving me some easy access to some things that were technologically above my pay grade. second, i am crying in my bottle of water b/c i wrote thiis amazing blog and accidently erased it, so now i have to start from scratch and hopefully i can remember all the clever bits i wrote about. (another reason this blog has taken forever. it actuall started jan 22th believe it or not)
first off, i know there has been a bit of discussion that there isnt enough wrestling in my blogs, considering it is wrestling that i do for a living. well, that is my profession (along with being a professional ebay whore, but that is neither here, nor there). others have countered saying we like reading about his personal life, while fans of me writing about wrestling have said, at least write about wrestling occasionally; others have countered that "aw crap, we thought this was raven-symone's site" (and you have to admit, she really is . . . "so raven"). others have further countered that he really needs to pick up after himself, stop snoring so loudly at night and buy a dog for the house. of course this group is a very small one, consisting of, well . . . only my wife.
well in interest of fair play, i will be writing about wrestling in a few paragraphs, but first i will explain to you as i have explained to my wife. i will get a dog when we sell the condo and buy a bigger house. she would like another rottweiler, but i am going to get an argentine dogo. she says i am not, but it is my blog and i can write what i want. the argentine dogos are completely white, have a really thick pit bull kind of chest, look really cool and are badass (yes, thats the scientific term, badass). in the 1930s in Argentina, some dude named martinez set out to breed the ultimate big game hunting dog, a dog not only capable of taking on dangerous game such as wild boar and cougars (yes he wanted it to pick up hot older women), but a dog also capable of being a loyal pet and family guardian. he picked the Cordoba Fighting Dog (with the rich corinthian leather) to be the base for the breed. This breed is extinct today but was described as a large and ferocious dog that was both a great hunter and fighter and oddly enough, looked like ricardo montalban. he crossed it with a Great Dane (it was actually mel gibson's understudy in hamlet), a Boxer (not sure but i believe it was some dude who boxed things at publix), a Spanish Mastiff (that was tough b/c the mastiff didnt speak a word of english and they had to use an interpreter), an Old English Bulldog (who kept saying"bully" for some strange reason, and when surprised his monocle would keep popping out), a Bull Terrier (now how they got the bull to let the terrier bang him is, once again, way beyond my pay grade), Great Pyrenees (i didnt think he was so great. he had a very inflated sort of self for a dog named after a pair of knees. pyrenees, pair of knees, get it, whatever.), a Pointer (yes, i am gonna say it, he was constantly sticking his finger out and going "look over there"), an Irish Wolfhound (wow could he drink, kind of a pain in the ass, kept saying he was part lycan, but when he sung "when irish eyes are smiling" on saint patty's day, there wasnt a dry eye in the house) and finally Dogue de Bordeaux (a more pretentious dog you would not find. his cover was blown when we figured out that dogue meant dog and bordeaux was a wine. typical uppity bourgeoisie wino.).
so this Martinez dude kept improving the resulting breed via selective breeding to introduce the traits he desired. the dogs are great guard dogs because, once again, they are badass. they love kids and love to be the center of attention. the part about the kids, read nothing into that, but its better if they love rugrats than not, you know, just in case somewhere in the near future.
now wrestling. i was wrestling for fog city about 2 weeks ago (which is now 4 weeks ago -editor's note) and i came up with a really sweet finish. well at least i thought it was really sweet. actually i believe most everyone thought it was super sweet. in fact it was so sweet, a few people in the front row got toothaches. anyhoo, i thought i might say something, or write something as the case may be about how i come up with cool ass finishes.
well first i find out who i'm working with, then who they (meaning the booker) wants to win, then how they want said winner to win said match. then i have to factor in; is it a cold match, have we ever wrestled before, is it part of an angle, part of a feud, a small feud or a major feud. and if so, what have we done in the past, how can we play off it, also where are we going next, if anywhere. is this the end of the feud, the beginning, or just a match with nothing at stake except vampires on a stake if we are in transylvania. then i devise a finish. the end.
wait-a-minute, wait-a-minute as david crockett used to say (he also used to say, "guess what tony, guess what, gotta go"), what the f@#k, thats it? are you ribbing me, thats it? where is the creating, where is the devising? where is all the clever work supposed to take place? well sometimes it really is that simple. with all that info at hand, sometimes shit just pops into my head. or the booker says this is what i want done. and then you really have no choice. except . . .
except that almost invariably that is never the end. even though it should be. b/c as hall and oates once so brilliantly said, "oh no, i cant go for that" meaning i gotta toss my two cents in whether its wanted or not (which is how i occasionally get heat . . or at least one of the many ways) and for two reasons. the main one is, i play and always have played, "for love of the game". so if i can make things better, i'm gonna try. two, it massages my ego. hey, i'm not gonna lie. its something i do really, really well and coming up with clever ass shit strokes my ego. three, it is an amazing feeling working my creative juices. so maybe its three reasons, sue me. b/c when you are going for all those things and you are connecting on every one, it is a place you never want to leave. and even though you are doing it physically (as in the match being physical), the place is in your head where you've reached what i assume meditators reach. a nirvana of sorts. a nirvana where you can "come as you are", (bad pun intended but only b/c of the rest of the paragraph) which coincidentally was what my wcw music was based on. it was a couple note different cover of "come as you are" combined with the guitar licks/solo from "that smell" by lynyrd skynyrd. jimmy hart let me come and pick and produce my own music. much thanks to jimmy, and come on, its bloody brilliant mixing southern rock and grunge. ok, this is me off on a tangent again. this is why blogs dont come out as often, b/c once i start writing, i cant stop. if i told you what was written originally and what was added as i went back to edit; you'd be amazed. its probably twice as long now.
now this place you reach sounds like new agey spiritual mumbo jumbo, but anyone who has ever been in a similar place, they will tell you it is all to real, and all to fleeting even though it seems to last forever. i guess it only seems fleeting once the moment is gone. why do you think wrestlers cant retire, you could say money, but even the rich ones dont want to. it is better than any drug. it is a drug. (background music for this part of the blog is roxy music "love is the drug".
to make an analogy, i almost like when things fall apart in a match because then: i have maximum pressure on me, i have to be super creative in a fraction of a second. i have to figure out solutions. how can i fix a match so everything plays out correctly; i have to notify my opponent, the ref, any valets or manager types, etc. accomplishing this without looking lost or letting anyone in the match have enough time to look lost, or worse get scared, (sometimes i gotta reassure them while this is going on)and most importantly keeping the fans unaware that anything has actually transpired that has completely screwed things up. to convince the fans that what they are seeing is supposed to happen. when you get in that zone, and you're sowing your creative oats (not to be confused with, once again, the ever ubiquitous, "hall and oates") it is a place you never want to leave. when you are in "the zone" time slows down and seconds literally feel like minutes. sometimes i almost feel as if i've stopped moving, put my hand on my chin in a rather studious simon diamond pose and discussed with myself 30 or 40 ideas. standing there contemplating, i sift through each idea trying to find the single best one; then i wait an extra couple minutes just to savor the feeling. it is as arnold schwartzeneggar once said in the movie pumping iron "almost better than sex". well, he said something like that. as far as an exact quote, i'm not certain, i havent seen the movie in 20 years. sue me. the point remains though. i'm not saying he's 100% right, but i'm not saying he's wrong either. before i was married, slam dunk, better than sex, being with my wife trumps that feeling, but it is the only thing that does.
being in the zone whether its playing "fix up" or creating something new like a finish, is why i will will still be doing this when i'm 80 something. in fact in the year 2047, when i'll be 83, it will be like the 50th anniversary of dreamer finally beating me. if he hasnt died of eating food off the floor by then, i think we'll be due for another dreamer victory. i dont know if we'll able to do much, but the promos will be awesome.
i have digressed long enough, here is where my finish from fog city and how i came up with it should be. except it is almost 2 weeks since i started this blog, it has tripled in size, its been a month since i had that match and . . . i am out of time today and i am afraid if i put it off another day to finish this blog, it will never see the light of day.
i dont want to do that, so i will put what i have written up, with a promise that i will come back to where we left off.
it will either be the how and why of the fog city finish or of another.
i hope you enjoy and thanks for reading . . and your patience.
raven
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