#axe-throwing

[refreshyourself]

Axe-throwing fuckin QUEEN. 

Jk, immediately before this, the axe did not stick to the wood and bounced back and almost hit me. So that’s cool.

[bomberqueen17]

singelisilverslippers replied to your post “A Jeep just rolled in the driveway and I could instantly tell it was...”

are your dad and my dad long-lost kindred spirits? because my father has done that.

lazaefair replied to your post “A Jeep just rolled in the driveway and I could instantly tell it was...”

I only hope I ascend to that level of don't-give-a-fuck when I reach his age.

Here’s the context I didn’t include: I wasn’t sure that Jeep had a stereo. My folks are not... into music.

But if there’s one genre of music Dad has ever listened to, it’s pipe band music, because he was in one as a teenager, and he’s never really gotten over it. (He still plays, occasionally, indifferently; mostly for family events. He has protested that he’s not all that good, but here’s the thing: it’s bagpipes, they’re an instrument of war, not music, so you don’t have to be very good at playing them. As long as you’ve mastered the basic technique. And really, he’s fine at it, he’s just not competitive-pipe-band fine at it, nor does he really want to be.)

My dad has... a finely-rationed set of fucks that he gives in relatively predictable fashions. Some things, it is not possible for him not to care too much about.

He has, however, never for a moment in his life really had a spare fuck to give what people think of his taste in music, fashion sense, or that sort of thing.

... 

In the ensuing conversation he offered to give me a tomahawk that he’d found among his Rev War re-enactment effects. (“It’s not mine,” he said, “the one I have was hammer-forged for me by that German smith, this one’s probably commercial, but it’s a nice hatchet, really.” “I can use a tomahawk,” I said, being a person who sleeps alone in the woods in a canvas-walled house for months on end less than two miles from the place a murder victim got dumped last summer. “They’re nice because you can use them on firewood, which you can’t with a sword,” he said.)

(Unrelated conversation: one of the farm hands said of Farmbaby, “I think she’d make a good mercenary, she has such a keen eye and a clear sense of things.” I considered that for a moment, and said, “That’s it, then, we’d better teach her the way of the sword,” which for some reason everyone else thought was really funny. Come on though, she’s already three, that’s already too old for some of the traditional ways!)

[dinkidingo]

Friends took us axe-throwing so I did a draw-over of my partner and I for our first bullseye of the night

[walmart-unionized-clown]

Squeezing and muffling my screams with my imaginary Spamton plush

[a-boxoffice]

Oscars attendees at Four Seasons gifted USD 13,500 axe-throwing experience

It seems that axe-throwing is the latest gaming trend that is sweeping the US. The experiential sport will even get the VIP treatment at the 2019 Oscars, with a USD 13,500 gift certificate from Kick Axe Brooklyn

Box Office

[theemperorsfeather]

An Axe for the Frozen Sea - Believer Magazine

The ways we find to fix ourselves do not always look like fixing. Sometimes they fail, but they are never wrong. —Melissa Febos 1. I throw two-handed, fists stacked at the base of the axe handle. My right foot is at the line, my left just behind, and I rock, my weight shifting forward, back, …

This is a really, really good essay.

Feet still staggered, I bring both hands back over my head. The blade is straight. I’m leaning back. My elbows are at my ears and I’m gripping the handle and everything in me—I don’t know how else to say this—sighs. The knots in my neck untie, brambles in my back untangle. This is what child’s pose used to feel like—the relaxation, the release—but yoga isn’t working for me right now. Neither is bourbon—I’ve been drinking too much—or sleeping—not much at all—or deep breaths or petting dogs or social media breaks or any of a thousand things we do to stay calm, don’t tell me to be calm. I am not fucking calm. I could explode this city with my rage.

I let go of the axe.

Sliced air and the gunshot of steel on board. The blade sinks and sticks in the splintered wood, just to the right of the third ring. That’s okay. I don’t care about points. I’m not here to win. I’m not here to compete in a league or hang out with friends or even hit the target.

I want to split open.

2.

Rage is nothing new. But the policies and rhetoric of our current administration have kicked it screaming into the center of things. . .

[aladygrieve]

why get second place in a beauty contest when you can get second place in an axe-throwing tournament! 

[mushroompillowcase-blog]

So this is 40.

'Tis the eve of my 40th birthday. 40. What is 40? Been giving this some thought lately, though not as much as you might think.

The difference between 40 and 30 for me is more acceptance. I suppose more confidence also comes with that. It's the confidence to accept that the way things are, are that way for a reason, and that if I want them to change, then I can make that happen too.

Proof of this: I had a birthday get-together today. My usual birthday ritual is to hide the fact that it's my birthday, then feel sorry for myself that no one cares. But not this year. I just spent an absolutely surreal, but gobsmackingly-fun day with a bunch of peeps at The Backyard Axe-Throwing League, hucking axes at targets. I'm pretty sure that the reason I sucked so bad at axe-throwing was because I was so distracted by the fact that here I was, surrounded by about a dozen of my friends from all different times and places, all having come together for the first time, to chuck axes with me. Even writing that sounds so weird, but that's the way I like it.

Lovely people have been telling me that I don't look 40 and I appreciate that. I like it a lot. Some people ask what my secret is, to which I respond with this reference:

But really, the secret is that there is no secret*. Here are a few things to which I attribute my youthful, dewy looks and happy-go-lucky child-like demeanour:

Having a winning ticket in the gene lottery. Thanks, Mommy and Daddy.

Living a healthy(ish) lifestyle.

Doing what makes me happy.

Avoiding what makes me unhappy.

Being honest when I'm deluding myself about the above two points. Forgiving myself the oversight and trying to do better next time.

Trying to think happy thoughts. Recognizing when I'm bringing myself down with not-so-happy ones.

And surrounding myself with good people. No man is an eyelet. Or however that expression goes.

I by no means have things figured out, but I also know now that that is completely not the point. There is nothing to figure out and how would we know when we had it figured anyway? Ridiculous.

If you're reading this, it probably means that you've played a part in my life up until this point and for that, I thank you! Best birthday ever.

            * Except for drinking the first morning urine of a young virgin. That helps a lot.