The darkness comes at night, or in the morning, or sometimes the late afternoon, in that liminal time between daytime and nighttime. It doesn’t discriminate. It doesn’t care that I have work to finish or that I should wash the dishes stacked in the sink or that I need to check in on how my two boys’ distance-learning schoolwork is going. It doesn’t care that, after seven months of mostly staying at home, I have already been examining the uglier recesses of my psyche.

In Close to the Knives, David Wojnarowicz gives us an important and timely document: a collection of creative essays - a scathing, sexy, sublimely humorous and honest personal testimony to the 'Fear of Diversity in America.' If your knives are sharp, they will cut this step off intermittently. The step that is cut off is a sliver and often looks like a piece of wire. These slivers will tend to accumulate around the slitting head or under the shear. As the knives get dull, they will tend to smear the step against the slit or sheared edge. The three young men, who were all armed with knives and had their faces covered, stabbed their target four times as horrified members of the public looked on near to Orion Pharmacy. Mr Manning, 19, was knifed in the heart during the fight. He collapsed and died at the scene.

It comes fast and hard, and it’s nearly impossible to explain to someone who hasn’t experienced the weight of anxiety and depression. But I will try. If you imagine the excitement, anticipation, and joy of a forthcoming event—seeing a loved one, going to a concert, attending an awards ceremony, a day of skiing or snowboarding in powder—and then you invert that feeling, you will have some idea of what the experience is like, for me at least. Rather than butterflies in your stomach and a hit of dopamine or endorphins, it feels like a shroud has been dropped over your senses. Sometimes there’s a triggering event: a small conflict at home, a particularly challenging day at work, an unsettling segment on the evening news. Sometimes there’s not. Sometimes when I wake up, it’s just there. When it’s really bad, the colors in my field of vision dim.

For closing the knife, you need to hold the handle of the knife and clear the blade’s way. Then press the release blade of the metal tab and fold the knives blade also. Until it becomes settle, keep pushing the blade. How to Close a Gerber Knife Following This Steps Also. Not to be a fly in the ointment but Track calls this a English trade knife while it is not even close. Not trying to take away from the knife but lets call it what it is and a 'trade knife/Scalper' it aint. Trade knives are/were half tang, iron pins(2 or 3 depending on English or French) and a spanish notch is really far fetched for a English.

More from our November 2020 Issue

I frequently notice this desaturation of the world when I’m driving to work, when we used to do that kind of thing. To get to my office in LoDo, I drive up Speer Boulevard from my neighborhood south of downtown, and it’s as though everything outside the windshield is dulled—the green trees that line Cherry Creek, the blue Colorado sky, the contrasting white clouds. They all run together in muted shades, as if a child blended the colors of his paints a little too carelessly. Nothing seems to cut through the gray. A favorite song, a funny podcast, a friend checking in to ask if I’m OK—none of it helps.

My mood disorder is such that I sometimes think of it as a predator waiting to attack. It is not always seen or felt, but it is always there lurking. I know when it comes for me it will hurt, and there is no remedy for the pain. So I wait. I wait for it to pass. And once it does, I wait until it comes along again.

I was not an easy child. Or at least that’s the story I’ve told myself. My parents loved me unconditionally and always supported me, but I was a little surprised that when I reached out to them recently, my mom said I wasn’t a terribly challenging kid; she said I was a good student, sociable, and a rule-follower. Even so, I always thought I was moodier than most. Stubborn, too. As I reflect on my childhood, these traits were likely early signs of the mental health issues I’d come to face later—and maybe was already experiencing as an elementary and middle school student. I don’t recall feeling particularly unhappy when I was that age. At least, I don’t remember feeling sad without a reason that would make anyone feel sad, like the death of a grandparent or a beloved pet. But anxiousness was part of who I was, even before “anxiety” became a buzzword. I would become uneasy when my elementary school report card arrived, even though I always got A’s and B’s. I’d hyperventilate before class presentations. As a young teenager, I would freak out if my shirt was too wrinkly.

At the time, those meltdowns may have been easy to brush off as personality quirks. I was the firstborn in my family; maybe that was part of it. Or perhaps I was just a little bit neurotic. There was nothing to worry about—except there actually was. Anxiety can be a precursor to depression; it can also coexist with depression. When I was a junior in high school, a student I’d known and been friendly with since the sixth grade died by suicide. Later that year, in the throes of standardized college entrance testing and after a bad breakup with a girlfriend, I found myself standing in the kitchen late one night staring at the knives that sat on our counter. I had gotten out of bed and somehow arrived at that place. In retrospect, what scared me the most wasn’t the idea of going through with the act of hurting myself; what scared me was there didn’t seem to be any agency at all. It was almost as if I wasn’t myself, that I couldn’t control what I was doing or what would happen next.

In that trancelike state, I remembered the boy who’d died and the shock and sorrow I’d felt upon learning about his death and how it’d happened. Instead of feeling drawn to the knives, I felt repelled by them. I walked back to my room, got in bed, and eventually fell asleep. I didn’t tell anyone about my late-night brush with self-harm, but I didn’t have to. Within days, my parents asked me if I was OK. They knew, and their question gave me permission to be honest. And so, not long after that, at the age of 17, I had my first experience with psychotherapy. That was almost three decades ago.

For those who haven’t experienced clinical depression before, 2020 and its laundry list of awfulness seem almost flawlessly designed to make someone feel depressed and anxious. Psychological trauma is considered a leading cause of depression, and this year has delivered its share of collective traumas, from COVID-19 to widespread social unrest to wildfires burning throughout the western United States to hurricanes hammering American coastlines. I’ve been reminded of this repeatedly since mid-March, when normally upbeat friends say, “Eh, OK,” when I ask how they’re doing or when other friends who haven’t been diagnosed with depression say that, in fact, they feel depressed. A May Washington Post article citing Census Bureau data indicated that one-third of all Americans are experiencing symptoms of depression or anxiety. In August, the Journal of the American Medical Association published a study that found searches for terms related to acute anxiety between mid-March and mid-May were the highest they’d ever been, compared with 16 years of Google search data. A United Nations policy memo suggested, this past spring, that “a long-term upsurge in the number and severity of mental health problems is likely” as a result of the pandemic, and a September Wired article reported that experts fear the difficulties surrounding COVID-19 “will add up to a ‘second pandemic’ of mental illness.”

It shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone, then, that the results of a survey released by the Colorado Health Foundation in September found that a majority—53 percent—of respondents in the Centennial State have felt “increased mental health strain,” such as anxiety, stress, and loneliness, during the pandemic. It also probably shouldn’t come as a shock that many of us have turned to a particular and widely accepted coping mechanism: alcohol. Not long after Denver Mayor Michael Hancock announced that liquor stores would close to help slow the spread of the novel coronavirus, lines formed outside the shops so people could stock up on one of society’s greatest numbing agents. They wanted to replenish their fridges and bars with a substance that is wonderfully effective at alleviating anxiety and pushing away, if only temporarily, the pain of depression.

I didn’t need to get in line. My bar cart was stocked, and my basement beer fridge was full. They usually are. For years, along with my daily dose of 50 milligrams of Zoloft, I’ve used alcohol as an anxiolytic, as a way to ease my discomfort with certain social situations and to dull the stress that comes with everyday living. It seems as though many Denverites became more reliant on the anxiety-mitigating properties of booze during the pandemic—anecdotally, at least, given the run on liquor stores in March and from conversations with friends. Indeed, a survey by alcohol.org found that 38 percent of Coloradans admitted to drinking while working from home during the pandemic.

My relationship with booze was already fraught—something I’ve discussed with three different therapists over the years—and the stay-at-home orders only served to exacerbate a long-simmering problem. Freed from the responsibility of having to drive my boys to school at 7 a.m. most mornings, I rationalized that there was no issue with having a few extra drinks on a weeknight. If I felt a little fuzzy in the morning, I’d flip open my laptop by 9:30 and no one would even know. Besides, I told myself, if there were ever an acceptable reason to cut myself some slack, it was a global pandemic.

Turns out I gave myself a little too much latitude. I’d drink because I was depressed about the pandemic and the tragedies resulting from it and because I was anxious about work and any number of other things. The following morning, I’d have a headache and have to face the shame of having lost control with alcohol, yet again. By early afternoon, my mind would clear and the regret would subside, but that simply made head space for the depression and anxiety that can manifest when one tries to make it through even the best days. It also left room for the voice, the voice that tells me the reason my company is struggling is because I suck at my job; that the reason I’ve put on 10 pounds is because I’m lazy and drink too much; that the reason my kids are bored is because I’m a crappy dad. After listening to the voice berate me for a few hours, 5 o’clock would once again bring relief. I’d crack a beer or mix a margarita. Lather, rinse, repeat.

For people suffering through the despondency spurred by the pandemic or social unrest or the election or natural disasters, the pain is real. If it’s anything like my first encounter with depression, it’s also probably wildly confusing and terribly frightening. For those who are familiar with melancholia, though, 2020 has delivered a unique blow. In a May 2020 article in the Atlantic, Andrew Solomon, author of National Book Award–winning The Noonday Demon: An Atlas of Depression, is quoted addressing what some of us who have mood disorders have been experiencing this year. “[People already diagnosed with a major depressive disorder] develop what some clinicians call ‘double depression,’ in which the under-lying disorder coexists with a new layer of fear and sorrow.”

Depression is bad. Double depression is really awful. This is what it has looked like for me: Over the past half year, I’ve been pushed into profound misery for roughly 48 to 72 hours at least once a week. I don’t smile. I don’t laugh. I have difficulty feeling love. I contemplate different ways of hurting myself. I want to sleep so I don’t have to think about anything anymore. Sometimes I’ll work the better part of the day and then crawl into bed at 4:30 in the afternoon and sleep for two hours. Then, of course, I can’t fall asleep at night. My mood darkens. My mind whirs. The voice returns.

One of the most sobering things I’ve learned during my time in therapy is that I will be dealing with this disease—or rather, the combined diseases of anxiety and depression—for the rest of my life. It’s not like the appendicitis I had in my early 30s, or like a sinus infection that will go away with a round of antibiotics. It’s not even like COVID-19. It’s more akin to a bad back or diabetes or high blood pressure. For me, it’s something to be managed and addressed consistently. It is not something to be trifled with.

Conventional wisdom might suggest that as you age and mellow and your kids become more independent and you have more professional success and earn more money, your tendency for feeling down or anxious might subside. That’s not how things have gone for me. It was also not the case for William Styron, whose book Darkness Visible: A Memoir of Madness has been my lodestar since I discovered it last year. Styron had a nearly catastrophic deep depression at the age of 60, when he was already an accomplished novelist. At 46, I’ve never experienced a lasting major depression like the one he faced, but some of the particulars of his disease mirror my own. “[A]fter I had returned to health and was able to reflect on the past in the light of my ordeal,” Styron writes, “I began to see clearly how depression had clung close to the outer edges of my life for many years.”

I once did an exercise with my therapist called a trauma timeline. Everybody experiences trauma differently—no matter how minor or major it might seem to others—and the trauma timeline is designed to identify how and when the client experiences it. In doing this assignment, I learned depression, or something approaching depression, had been near to me, as it was for Styron, for years. I believe it was there when, after each semester in college ended, I would fall into a funk. I believe it was there when my girlfriend—now my wife—and I split up for a few months after we’d both finished graduate school in our late 20s and I thought my life was over. I believe it was there when, in my 30s, I discovered what Styron calls the “daily mood bath” of alcohol and embarked on my ongoing struggle with that drug.

These kinds of things are not at all rare—for anyone. They are not disastrous traumas or life-destroying events, and for people without mood disorders, they would be treated as such. For someone who struggles with depression and anxiety, however, they take on an outsize importance, both in real time and in that person’s history.

I have actually lived a very fortunate life, but I have experienced events that one might consider classic depression-inducers, things that could send almost anyone into a period of sustained melancholy. Strangely, these things did not do that for me. My dad has beaten cancer—twice—and survived a random drive-by shooting. My mom has long endured painful osteoarthritic issues for which she’s had numerous surgeries. My eldest son was born via an emergency C-section after my wife suffered a potentially catastrophic placental abruption during labor. Perhaps most significantly, though, my younger brother was diagnosed with a rare and potentially deadly form of leukemia when he was 26. The brutal treatment protocol that ultimately saved his life lasted the better part of two years.

To this day, I’m not sure why those ordeals didn’t drive me into abject sadness. I didn’t feel the shroud of depression lower itself over my senses. I never felt worthless. I never felt hopeless. The voice that so often tells me that I’m not good enough, that I’m a failure, that I don’t fit in, that I create, rather than solve, problems, that I am a fucking idiot never appeared. This disease doesn’t lend itself to easy answers, but I have wondered if each occasion involved a component of “good” stress that allowed me to be proactive and productive.

Therapists, medical professionals, and myriad studies explain that some varieties of stress are deleterious; however, it is well known too that a certain amount of stress can lead to adaptation. Maybe that’s as good an explanation as any? Maybe I never felt despondent because, whether it was true or not, I felt like I could do something—even the smallest thing—to help someone I was close to and loved deeply?

On the other hand, a global pandemic, a national reckoning on systemic racism, raging wildfires resulting, in part, from the effects of climate change—each of these issues feels overwhelming, scary, impossible to fix. Each thing on its own is so all-encompassing, so massive, and so disorienting it’s difficult to find even the smallest way to engage in a meaningful, helpful, substantive way. I haven’t known what to do. It doesn’t seem like anyone really knows what to do. It’s all totally, completely paralyzing.

“Depression is the flaw in love.” This is the opening line in Solomon’s The Noonday Demon and is perhaps the most succinct, accurate description of the disease I’ve ever read. “To be creatures who love, we must be creatures who can despair at what we lose, and depression is the mechanism of that despair.” What we have all lost over the past nine months is immeasurable. What we have each lost is singular, difficult, and real. We are all struggling. We are all suffering.

Depression has afflicted human beings for millennia, and yet, for so long it was only discussed in whispers and only existed in the shadows. Recently, though, things have begun to change. In the past couple of years, people have started talking about it more openly, actively working to lessen the stigma around mental health issues. Celebrities, including Bruce Springsteen, Lady Gaga, Jon Hamm, Kristen Bell, and, just this past summer, Dak Prescott, have told vulnerable, cathartic, and very public stories about their battles with the demons of the mind. One of the most compelling pieces of storytelling about mental health I’ve read recently is by NBA alum Ben Gordon, who published “Where Is My Mind” this past February in the Players’ Tribune. “Part of the problem was that I didn’t even know that what I was experiencing had a name,” Gordon, who was subsequently diagnosed with bipolar disorder, writes. “I didn’t know I was having episodes. Something would trigger me—usually I’d be reading about religion or spirituality [or] conspiracy theories—and then I’d get stuck. I would have this kind of childlike curiosity about the unexplainable. The metaphysical. The spiritual. The mystical. And then I’d be on a loop.”

I started writing this piece in May, for myself, with no intention of publishing it. I was in a bad spot mentally, and as so many professional and amateur writers know, writing can be therapeutic. Writing is also an act of discovery, and I have discovered much over the past few months as I’ve wrestled with my mood disorder and with the words on the page. Maybe my greatest revelation has been waking up to the fact that I do want to live, that my thoughts of hurting myself are fleeting, that I have the ability to quiet the voice when it arrives—sometimes through talk therapy; sometimes, yes, with the help of alcohol; and sometimes through the simple passage of time. I’ve learned I want to get up each morning, no matter how difficult the coming day might be, no matter how much my mind tells me it would be easier to just stay in bed.

I have also discovered that, although the idea of telling my story makes me nervous, there is a relief in making my history with depression known. Many of my closest friends don’t know about the extent of my illness, and there is, in the jargon of therapy, a sense of control and peace that comes from publicly “naming” my mental health issues. Of course, there is also the hope that, just as I have taken solace in reading about others whose struggles are comparable to mine, this confession will make someone feel less isolated—now, during what is arguably one of the most tumultuous, uncertain, and depression-inducing times in history, or later, when the pain of depression might come for no reason at all. Beyond that, what I know for sure is that I have much more to endure. In the meantime, I will continue to push forward, even as I wait for the darkness to come again.

Getting Help: If you are—or a loved one is—experiencing an acute mental health crisis, Colorado Crisis Services has a hotline where trained professionals can talk you through an emergency. Call 1-844-493-8255 or text TALK to 38255.

What is Knife Throwing

Knife throwing is the skilled art of throwing knives at a target, this art is regularly used as a form of entertainment and is also a competitive sport.

There are many different types of throwing knives with many different styles of knife throwing.

Knife Throwing History

It is thought that the art of knife throwing originated from prehistoric times where early man would use “throwing sticks” to hunt for food. As available materials advanced through discovery and metal was used for craft, it was then that the throwing stick developed into a throwing knife.

Over time many cultures would use throwing knives not only for hunting but as weapons in combat. Knife throwing was particularly common with Japanese warriors and African and Native American Tribes.

Introduction to Knife Throwing

In the following Knife throwing beginners guide, I will teach you the very basic knowledge and skills, just enough to get you started.

You’ll learn about beginners equipment, techniques, safety and other basic aspects of this fun hobby.

I do however recommend searching for a local club or expert tutor you will learn the art of knife throwing much faster and efficiently. It’s also safer.

Types of Throwing Knives

Types of throwing knives fall into a few categories which I will now explain:

Blade Heavy Throwing Knife

The name pretty much explains the knife and this is the same for the next few types of throwing knives. Obviously, this type of knife has a weighted blade that is heavier than the body or handle.

Perhaps one of the most popular types of throwing knife for the beginner, it allows you to practice the basic hammer grip.

You hold the knife by the handle with the hammer grip and throw.

Handle Heavy Throwing Knife

Not recommended for total beginners the handle heavy throwing knife has more weight in the handle of the knife. Therefore you grip the blade when throwing so the handle propels forward first.

Balanced Throwing Knife

A balanced throwing knife unlike the previous two we have explained have the centre of gravity in the middle of the knife they are neither blade heavy or handle heavy. This allows you to throw the knife either gripping the blade or gripping the handle.

Throwing Daggers Macbook air applications free download.

Throwing daggers are triangular in appearance with the blade coming to a point. You have probably seen these in movies, they were made popular by Ninjas in Japan as an alternative to stars.

Knife Throwing Aspects

To better understand the dynamics of knife throwing we must first understand the components:

Weight

As a beginner, you should be looking for a knife with a weight of around 200 grams.

The lighter the knife the more difficult it becomes to control.

For more distance when throwing generally speaking you should opt for a heavier knife of 250 grams plus.

Balance

As a beginner, the balance is a very important aspect of a throwing knife and the centre of gravity should be, give or take 1cm, in the middle of the throwing knife.

To find the centre of the knife take the knife and balance it on your index finger.

Some throwing knives as I will explain below are not balanced, this kind of knife is more for someone with experience and who has developed the skills. A general rule of thumb when throwing a weighted knife is to grip the lighter end before throwing.

Handle

The most popular throwing knives are the ones that are crafted out of a single piece of metal, especially as a beginner knife thrower. These will be released from your hand much more smoothly.

Wooden handles are a little more comfortable to hold but are not as durable.

You will also find handles can be made of plastic and leather.

Blade

Contrary to popular belief the blade of a throwing knife should not be sharp, as a beginner the last thing you want to do is injure yourself.

Believe it or not, having a sharp blade will not help the knife stick better into the target.

What is most important is that it has a tapering blade and the throwing of the knife.

Sheath

When you buy a throwing knife you should try to look for one or a set that comes with a sheath.

A sheath is a cover for your knife which is used for transporting or carrying it around with you. (please see legalities of carrying a knife further down this article)

If your knife does not come with a sheath or cover you can buy these separately or if you’re quite good with your hands, make your own.

What equipment do I need for Knife throwing?

The beauty of the knife throwing hobby is you need a minimal amount of equipment to get going, you’re only going to need a throwing knife and a target, and if you want to practice safely a first aid kit for emergencies.

Most standard throwing knives will be relatively cheap to buy making this hobby a great choice if you haven’t got much money to spare.

The following is what you will need should you wish to start knife throwing as a hobby.

Throwing Knives

As a beginner I would suggest you start with the blade heavy throwing knife, this is, of course, your own choice though.

A great set of blade heavy throwing knives for beginners can be found here.

Target

All different kinds of targets exist in the world of knife throwing perhaps even more than types of knives.

Close To The Knives David Wojnarowicz

Many people opt to create their very own knife throwing targets, which is relatively simple to do. If you aren’t the DIY type though you can get yourself one from here.

Many plans, how to guides and video tutorials to make your own knife throwing target can be found by doing a simple search on google.

Check out this cool tutorial on how to create a DIY knife throwing target.

Where can I buy Throwing Knives?

There are many places to buy throwing knives all over the world. However, depending on where you live will depend if you can go out and buy them from a shop nearby.

Buying online is a little more simple and there are many trusted retailers that you can purchase your throwing knives from. Here’s a couple of highly recommended online stores that deliver worldwide.

US Stores

UK Stores

Beginners Knife Throwing

Now that you have decided to learn the art of throwing knives you will need to learn the basic fundamentals.

To begin you will need to learn the beginners grip often referred to as the “Hammer Grip” it is the most basic of grips to learn and will not take you long to master.

How to Hammer Grip

Image Credit: http://www.knifethrowing.info

Imagine if you will that you are holding a hammer. Using your strongest hand whether that be your left or right, take the throwing knife and wrap your hand around it like you would a hammer. Then using your thumb to add extra control by placing it at the top of the handle, so your thumb is pointing upwards very similar to giving a thumbs up sign.

In the picture, you can see how your hand should look placed around the throwing knife.

Stance

Next, let’s focus on your stance, you’re going to want to be between 8 and 12 feet away from your target. Place your left foot forward and your right foot behind, then turn your feet to an angle of approximately 45 degrees.

Bend your knees very slightly until you feel stability and are comfortable. Try not to tense up and relax as much as possible without sacrificing stability and balance.

Throwing

Now you’ve got the grip and stance down we are on to the throw!

Let’s assume you are right-handed, put your left hand in front of you as if you are pointing towards the target. Take your right hand with the knife and bring it over your right shoulder above your head. Bring the right hand back down as if you are chopping something below, while your weight shifts forward you should now release the knife.

The release is the most important part and this comes only with practice, each time you throw take a mental note of where the knife ends up and then adjust your release accordingly.

Beginners Knife Throwing Tips

• Practising every day can help develop muscle memory and in turn accuracy.
• Carry more than one knife with you when knife throwing to save time going back and forth to the target to collect them after throwing.
• If you don’t have a target at hand a tree, flat piece of wood or other wide wooden surfaces make good targets.
• As a beginner knife thrower your knife will hit the target by the handle quite a lot and bounce back. Ensure spectators are stood well away.
• Keep an eye on the handle of your knife and not the blade tip, if the handle hits the target first, adjust your position by moving forward a couple of inches.
• Keep your wrist slightly locked and try your hardest to release the knife smoothly. Allow your hand to slide off the knife as you follow through, don’t overthink “letting the knife go”

Living Close To The Knives

Knife Throwing Safety

With knife throwing being a target sport you should adhere to a similar set of rules as you would in archery and when shooting targets.

Common sense is paramount, and if you use it then injuries and accidents are rarely heard of.

Bystanders

Ensure before throwing your knife that there are no people, kids, pets etc near to your target. Before throwing it is good practice to adopt a 20 feet rule. Do not throw until everyone is at least 20 feet away from your target.

Stay Aware

Although uncommon, it is possible for the knife to rebound off the target so you should stay alert and aware.

Breakables and valuable property

Before setting up your target check the area, make sure that there are no valuables or breakables anywhere near where you are throwing. As previously mentioned knives can bounce back the last thing you want is for it to bounce from the target hitting something valuable.

Safety checks of your knives

Before you handle a knife or throw it you should check it. This ensures that there are no sharp pieces of metal hanging off your knife, these sharp pieces of metal could potentially end up in your hand. It is good practice to carry files and tweezers to help remove these “burrs” safely

Knife Care

Throwing Knife Maintenance Tips

After you have finished practice or using your throwing knife it is very important that you give them a clean.

You can simply take an old wet cloth and rub your knife down vigorously to get rid of any marks or stains.

Afterwards, take your knife and rinse it thoroughly in water and then dry it. You must make sure that the knife is dried completely.

You can also add a coat of protective oil, then rub it off before your next use.

Throwing Knives should be stored in a safe, dry place.

If you notice a nick or a dent in your throwing knife you can use a file, be gentle when filing and just take the nick out.

For bent throwing knives simply lay them across a hard flat surface and use your body weight by standing on them to straighten them out.

Close To The Knives A Memoir Of Disintegration By David Wojnarowicz

Knife Throwing FAQ

Are throwing knives illegal?

The legalities are solely based on the location you are in.

All states in the US have their own laws. As a general rule, it is illegal to carry the knives but not illegal to use them on your own property.

In the UK the basic laws on knives state that it is illegal to sell a knife to a minor or to carry a knife out in public without a good reason for doing so. Laws are more relaxed on knives with 3-inch blades or less, especially folding blades.

How sharp should my throwing knife be?

Not sharp! Sharp blades are very dangerous when knife throwing. They will cut your hand and are more brittle than a blunted blade. As long as the blade is tapered and has a point it will stick.

What age would you say is good for the knife throwing hobby?

This highly depends on the child. As a rule, anyone under 12 shouldn’t start this hobby. That being said if they are with a responsible adult and the throwing knife is not heavy then you could be a couple of years younger when you start. Under 16’s should always be accompanied by an adult when practising.

Close To The Knives Summary

How hard should I throw a throwing knife?

Hard, but not stupidly hard! Hard enough for the tip of the throwing knife to be able to stick into the target.

Closer To The Knives

Knife Throwing Useful Links & References

Close To The Knives David Wojnarowicz

In this section, I will list all of the websites and references that I have found to be useful to learn knife throwing.

Close To The Knives Wiki

DISCLAIMER

Hobbiesguides.com strongly advise the reader to use all safety precautions and tips made in this beginners guide. We are not responsible for any subsequent injuries if you choose to participate in knife throwing. We would also urge that as a beginner you look for a local specialist instructor or club to help you learn the art of knife throwing.