I don’t know if you remember, but a few weeks ago I said I wanted to focus more attention on Aikido, on my guests—and less on my “self.”

To that end, I decided to channel my more experimental and personal literary ambitions into a forthcoming book (tentatively titled Non Prophet Bourgeois Samurai).

This Substack, after all, is called “Ki to the City,” right? It should be about promoting Aikido, not getting hijacked and subsumed by exercises in lyric essay exposition.

The Aikido aspect of my life is going pretty well (thanks for asking). The energy in the dojo has picked up quite a bit. It’s Fall now, and people always point to the summer for lulls in attendance. We’ve gotten a few new members recently who seem keen on sticking around. The training has been invigorating.

Ikeda Sensei is coming this weekend. I’m always blown away by his seemingly otherworldly abilities. During his seminars, I honestly do try to move my partners with my mind. So far, I’ve been unable to do it, but he clearly demonstrates that it’s possible, so I gotta keep trying.

Regarding the podcast: I’m really excited about forthcoming episodes. I’ve got some great guests lined up. I’m not going to spoil who they are, but stay tuned, and I think you’ll be pleased with the discourse.

When I started this project, I didn’t realize that I would actually be able to get anyone to come on. Maybe you can tell by now, I feel like I have little in common with other people. But what we do have in common is very special to me.

Aikido is very special to me, the bonds… It’s funny because my dojo is called “Bond Street,” though we’re not on Bond Street anymore.

Sometimes I think we should change the name to reflect our community better, you know, “Harlem Aikido” or “Harlem Budo Center” (something like that). Maybe we’d get more locals because they’d feel like we’re part of the neighborhood.

But I like the symbolism of Bond Street. It is a street dojo. We’re on a very noisy, dirty, crowded New York City street. All through class we hear music and sirens blaring through the windows.

I’m almost reminded of a quote relayed to me by a good friend years ago…

I say, “almost reminded” because I don’t remember it verbatim and I can’t find it on the internet. Maybe he made it up himself? Here’s my paraphrased version:

“It’s easy to meditate in a quiet temple; not so easy in a crowded marketplace.”

Our dojo is not in a “nice” neighborhood—I’m saying that as someone who grew up in “not-nice” neighborhoods. I don’t mean it in a pejorative sense. Though some people might be scared off by the location, I’m proud of it. I’m proud that we have a dojo right smack dab in the middle of the mayhem. We’re bonded by the street we train on.

You might be wondering how my book is coming along…

I’ve gotten over 50,000 words written. It’s like a 50,000-piece puzzle. Okay, maybe not. Maybe it’s more like a hundred piece puzzle because I can usually manage to keep “on topic” for at least 500 words in a row.

Maybe it’s because I’m from New York, or maybe it’s my milieu, the time I grew up in, my conversational wavelength. I change the subject often, I know that. This might hamper me as a writer (unless I finally just accept that I can only write ‘lyric essays’).

Here are the working names of some of the “chapters”, just so you can get an idea of the psyche I’m contending with over here:

Guru Phobic

Starlight Refined

Rare Nocturnal Talking Centipede

Maybe Now is a Good Time to Talk About the Genie

Are Delusions Flammable?

Raw Fool

Alliterate Guinea

Optimystic (with a “why”), get it?

I’ll have you know that I’m trying to write as normally as possible. I’m trying. I’m aiming for the ‘mainstream.’ I don’t want to be ‘avant-garde.’

I’m not trying to be hoity-toity. I still watch sports. I still watch detective shows, and wrestling (don’t tell anyone.) But here I am, writing lyric essays.

I mean, how pretentious is that?

At least the Aikido is going well.

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