Post by INFINITE PRO. on Sept 15, 2022 7:09:45 GMT
Johnny Five climbs the ladder.
He reaches the top.
He jumps down.
He takes a breath.
He turns and climbs up the other side.
He reaches the top.
He jumps down.
Tabula rasa.
As Johnny continues his Sisyphean practice, the view pulls away slightly and King Submaxiswear walks into it.
Aristotle's theory of the blank slate, more explicitly codified by Descartes, tells us that that we begin empty and unmarked. It is only as we travel through our lives that we form our thoughts and feelings, our psyche and self.
The masked man taps the side of his head.
Now, in contrast to my pristine exterior, my mind is filled to the brim with the writings of a long and remarkable life. Johnny's...
He looks back over his shoulder at Johnny as he continues the cycle. Reaching the top of the ladder, Johnny sees that he is being watched and waves enthusiastically. Submaxiswear chuckles and waves back before turning once more to the camera. Johnny jumps down, returning to the repetition.
...Johnny's not so much. Some would say that is a bad thing, especially considering the match ahead of him at Royal Crown. However, I would disagree. The blank tablet can be written upon by the wiser man to pass along his knowledge. Johnny's previous affiliate left very little impact due to his lack of consideration and early, though not untimely, demise. Thus his true potential is ripe to be harvested by a more tender hand.
Something in Submaxiswear's tone makes those last four words sound like a blatant lie, but he continues to speak nonetheless.
There's another point to consider. What if instead of blank slate we consider Tabula rasa to mean unencumbered. When we look at the other four men in this match we see that their slates have become quite full with the writings of each other. Now see each word as a millstone tied to them. Their clashes and collisions and the mutual animosity that they have created weighs them down, pulling them back from the prize that hangs above. Recoba loathes Touchdown for taking his title. Kane hates him and his brother for their interference in his business. Touchdown doesn't like anyone who won't bow down to them. El Rey's running scared of his guardian devil Mr Sainovic, but has to deal with Recoba wanting revenge for costing him the belt, and Kane's fury at being stabbed. All these intertwining ires, yet no positive impetus.
Submaxiswear gestures back over his shoulder.
Johnny has no part in any of that. What he has is a determination to prove his worth to this company and this industry, and the guiding hand of what must be considered one of the finest minds in the business.
He adjusts his tie to make it obvious he's referring to himself.
As the others are being brought low by what time has written upon their slate, Johnny will only reach new heights. As he does so, he will find the National Openweight title within his grasp. So it is written, so shall it be done.
And with that said, Submaxiswear turns and exits the frame. We continue to watch Johnny's punishing rises and falls for a few moments more before we fade to black.
He reaches the top.
He jumps down.
He takes a breath.
He turns and climbs up the other side.
He reaches the top.
He jumps down.
Tabula rasa.
As Johnny continues his Sisyphean practice, the view pulls away slightly and King Submaxiswear walks into it.
Aristotle's theory of the blank slate, more explicitly codified by Descartes, tells us that that we begin empty and unmarked. It is only as we travel through our lives that we form our thoughts and feelings, our psyche and self.
The masked man taps the side of his head.
Now, in contrast to my pristine exterior, my mind is filled to the brim with the writings of a long and remarkable life. Johnny's...
He looks back over his shoulder at Johnny as he continues the cycle. Reaching the top of the ladder, Johnny sees that he is being watched and waves enthusiastically. Submaxiswear chuckles and waves back before turning once more to the camera. Johnny jumps down, returning to the repetition.
...Johnny's not so much. Some would say that is a bad thing, especially considering the match ahead of him at Royal Crown. However, I would disagree. The blank tablet can be written upon by the wiser man to pass along his knowledge. Johnny's previous affiliate left very little impact due to his lack of consideration and early, though not untimely, demise. Thus his true potential is ripe to be harvested by a more tender hand.
Something in Submaxiswear's tone makes those last four words sound like a blatant lie, but he continues to speak nonetheless.
There's another point to consider. What if instead of blank slate we consider Tabula rasa to mean unencumbered. When we look at the other four men in this match we see that their slates have become quite full with the writings of each other. Now see each word as a millstone tied to them. Their clashes and collisions and the mutual animosity that they have created weighs them down, pulling them back from the prize that hangs above. Recoba loathes Touchdown for taking his title. Kane hates him and his brother for their interference in his business. Touchdown doesn't like anyone who won't bow down to them. El Rey's running scared of his guardian devil Mr Sainovic, but has to deal with Recoba wanting revenge for costing him the belt, and Kane's fury at being stabbed. All these intertwining ires, yet no positive impetus.
Submaxiswear gestures back over his shoulder.
Johnny has no part in any of that. What he has is a determination to prove his worth to this company and this industry, and the guiding hand of what must be considered one of the finest minds in the business.
He adjusts his tie to make it obvious he's referring to himself.
As the others are being brought low by what time has written upon their slate, Johnny will only reach new heights. As he does so, he will find the National Openweight title within his grasp. So it is written, so shall it be done.
And with that said, Submaxiswear turns and exits the frame. We continue to watch Johnny's punishing rises and falls for a few moments more before we fade to black.