huayno: revolutionary girl utena + flèche, mary jean chan[ID: excerpts of a poem intersp
huayno: revolutionary girl utena + flèche, mary jean chan[ID: excerpts of a poem interspersed with screencaps.excerpt: HistoryAt the age of thirteen, I wielded a blade because I had a firm grip, I was in love with Shakespeare, and the school team needed an épéeist. When my mother flew to Linz to watch me go 3–4 down against a former champion, she gripped the railing until her marriage ring was folded into flesh.screencap: Juri attempting to wrest Utena’s rose crest ring off her finger.excerpt:StrategyYou never duel against the same person, even if it is the same person. On the piste, once the blades are tilted upwards to signify respect, you recalibrate to thwart their every move. She was disarmed by my tears, a timeout to breathe through the yellowing bruise on my pale, yellow skin.screencap: Juri clutches her chest after Utena breaks the chain of her locket.excerpt:FootworkChanging into school uniform felt like cross-dressing. I took my time: removing mask, then chest protector, lingering at the breeches. The day I learnt to lunge, I began to walk differently, saw distance as a kind of desire. Once, my blade’s tip gently flicked her wrist: she said it was the perfect move.screencap: Juri and Utena lunge at each other during a duel, swords crossing.excerpt:Parry riposteMy greatest weakness: the riposte. In the changing room, the girl I was about to duel said I smelled of bitter gourd. We were practicing the flèche. Inevitably, I collided with her, a blur of entangled blades. I glimpsed her wry expression through our masks’ steel mesh: her gleaming, smiling lips.screencap: Shiori and Juri in silhouette, falling away from each other.excerpt:Grip and point controlFrench or pistol grip: one offers stability, the other more room for surprise. Before I came out to the world, I asked myself: French or pistol grip? Now, you say: You’re a great lover. Thank years of hard work on point control – how two fingers manoeuvre the blade’s tip – a flurry of sickle moons.screencap:Juri in profile, holding a badminton racket.] -- source link