Looking for Tyson

Nezi Arbib, famed hairdresser and muse of mine often mentions Tyson. “I wake up and I’m already looking for Tyson,” he tells me. Reason being: If there’s no Tyson, there’s no action, and definitely no money. When things are painful and chaotic, that’s when there’s growth. It’s funny, I used to spend most of my waking hours wishing for the opposite, to have my feet massaged with warm oil, to have my scalp rubbed at the Happy Buddah. Not sure I can ever stop wishing for pleasures of the flesh. But it’s like pose and repose in yoga; Tyson goes out to fight and then has those necessary moments on the bench, bloody with water being administered. He recoups, then goes back for more, and this is the important part: He takes home the trophy. But it doesn’t stop there, because then he rinses and repeats. We all choose our game, and Tyson has an honest one.

One day I’ll be sipping wine and smiling for the camera like my parents above. But not today.

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