iPod ... iPool
I went and shot pool by myself last night. I call it Atheist Church.
I like that with pool you get what is as close to classic ideal Newtonian physics as is possible for $3/hour. OK it was more than 3 bucks because it was past the cheap time. I got there after 8:00pm. I don't get spiritual but when that ball just barely gets to the pocket and falls in, it's close. Nothing magic. Nothing mysterious. Just the physics of elastic collisions.
The night didn't start off so good because I thought I had my cue in the back of the Beetle. Um No. Not there. There was me in the parking lot of the pool hall/bar saying fuck a few times. I was blending. It's key to blend in these places. Key. I'm saying it's a survival tactic people. I was pissed.
When I got the table the girl had more metal on her face than I have braces in my mouth. If I was younger she would have been a chick, but she's a girl. I'm getting old. So when you get that much metal do you like plan out the whole thing? Do they have piercing consultants who go you know the 38 caliber plug in your right ear is kinda gonna clash with the lip/tongue stud combo you got going on. It'll make them look too small compared to the ear. Or do you just punch holes at random. Don't get me wrong I'm all for people putting holes in their body wherever they want and it doesn't look bad. But at what point do you start thinking that there is more metal than face? When do you worry about magnetic radiation pulling your face apart? I dunno.
What the fuck happened to music?
The music sucked. Some kids kept playing the juke box and it was all really bad versions (modern I take it) of old songs that were at one time good. When a remake of stair way to heaven came on (come on people it's a POOL HALL!), I had to get the iPod out. I was shooting pool with my head phones on. It rocked. I was on FIRE. For me. I mean I don't play well but I can cut a ball in if it's not too tricky and requires no English. Sometimes I can get a draw on the ball. Sometimes I go for draw and get jump, which if you get a lot of jump you have to go running across the pool hall to pick up the damn ball. I never try for jump. Never. That's not blending. I was really in my own little world. Me, the music, the stick and the balls. I played my original mix known as CMF. I skipped some songs that weren't loud enough to drown out the idiocy.
So then I looked up and I saw this old man. Actually I just saw his face. He was staring right at me. Scared the fuck out of me. I mean I didn't jump or anything. Ya I'm cool. I'm blending. OK holy fuck a character out of a Stephen king book is right here starting at me with these intense old eyes. You know what I'm talking about. (I'm reminded of Greg Kinnear in Mystery Men talking to Ricky Jay (who played the publicist) when he said, "Casanova Frankenstein... now that was a villen and he had that thing with the eyes.... I can't do it... but...) So the old man looked at me. Right the fuck at me. Ever have a stranger look right at you like that. He wasn't smiling. I wondered if my music was bugging him. OK I'm done blending people. He had a dark blue baseball cap on and dark blue vest. He sorta looked pissed. I think I stopped blending right then.
I took out my ear phones and looked back at him trying to muster enough of a quizzical look that he might speak. I've never had anybody watch me like that. Ever for anything. OK the dog stares at me like that sometimes, but never a person. He looked at me. I approached him. Maybe I was back to blending, maybe not. I don't know the pool hall etiquette when a crazy looking mutherfucker is like totally staring you down. I walked right up and took out my head phone.
me: "ya?"
Crazy looking old man: ...nothing...
me: "Can I help you with something?"
Crazy looking old man (CLOM for short from now on): "You want a game?"
me: "uh"
CLOM: "just one game?"
me: "This is my last rack, I'm out of gas, but thank you anyways."
CLOM: "oh come on, just one game... For five bucks."
me: "uh" (no longer blending) "no thanks, I'm headed out"
Now I had 3 balls on the table. I dropped one then then other. He continued to stare. Yes the fucker managed to scare me again! I got a bit freaked and chased the last ball around the table missing and missing. Dude left. I dropped the ball. I left.
All in all a good night. I stank but that's the price you pay for going to a smokey place to blend.
I like that with pool you get what is as close to classic ideal Newtonian physics as is possible for $3/hour. OK it was more than 3 bucks because it was past the cheap time. I got there after 8:00pm. I don't get spiritual but when that ball just barely gets to the pocket and falls in, it's close. Nothing magic. Nothing mysterious. Just the physics of elastic collisions.
The night didn't start off so good because I thought I had my cue in the back of the Beetle. Um No. Not there. There was me in the parking lot of the pool hall/bar saying fuck a few times. I was blending. It's key to blend in these places. Key. I'm saying it's a survival tactic people. I was pissed.
When I got the table the girl had more metal on her face than I have braces in my mouth. If I was younger she would have been a chick, but she's a girl. I'm getting old. So when you get that much metal do you like plan out the whole thing? Do they have piercing consultants who go you know the 38 caliber plug in your right ear is kinda gonna clash with the lip/tongue stud combo you got going on. It'll make them look too small compared to the ear. Or do you just punch holes at random. Don't get me wrong I'm all for people putting holes in their body wherever they want and it doesn't look bad. But at what point do you start thinking that there is more metal than face? When do you worry about magnetic radiation pulling your face apart? I dunno.
What the fuck happened to music?
The music sucked. Some kids kept playing the juke box and it was all really bad versions (modern I take it) of old songs that were at one time good. When a remake of stair way to heaven came on (come on people it's a POOL HALL!), I had to get the iPod out. I was shooting pool with my head phones on. It rocked. I was on FIRE. For me. I mean I don't play well but I can cut a ball in if it's not too tricky and requires no English. Sometimes I can get a draw on the ball. Sometimes I go for draw and get jump, which if you get a lot of jump you have to go running across the pool hall to pick up the damn ball. I never try for jump. Never. That's not blending. I was really in my own little world. Me, the music, the stick and the balls. I played my original mix known as CMF. I skipped some songs that weren't loud enough to drown out the idiocy.
So then I looked up and I saw this old man. Actually I just saw his face. He was staring right at me. Scared the fuck out of me. I mean I didn't jump or anything. Ya I'm cool. I'm blending. OK holy fuck a character out of a Stephen king book is right here starting at me with these intense old eyes. You know what I'm talking about. (I'm reminded of Greg Kinnear in Mystery Men talking to Ricky Jay (who played the publicist) when he said, "Casanova Frankenstein... now that was a villen and he had that thing with the eyes.... I can't do it... but...) So the old man looked at me. Right the fuck at me. Ever have a stranger look right at you like that. He wasn't smiling. I wondered if my music was bugging him. OK I'm done blending people. He had a dark blue baseball cap on and dark blue vest. He sorta looked pissed. I think I stopped blending right then.
I took out my ear phones and looked back at him trying to muster enough of a quizzical look that he might speak. I've never had anybody watch me like that. Ever for anything. OK the dog stares at me like that sometimes, but never a person. He looked at me. I approached him. Maybe I was back to blending, maybe not. I don't know the pool hall etiquette when a crazy looking mutherfucker is like totally staring you down. I walked right up and took out my head phone.
me: "ya?"
Crazy looking old man: ...nothing...
me: "Can I help you with something?"
Crazy looking old man (CLOM for short from now on): "You want a game?"
me: "uh"
CLOM: "just one game?"
me: "This is my last rack, I'm out of gas, but thank you anyways."
CLOM: "oh come on, just one game... For five bucks."
me: "uh" (no longer blending) "no thanks, I'm headed out"
Now I had 3 balls on the table. I dropped one then then other. He continued to stare. Yes the fucker managed to scare me again! I got a bit freaked and chased the last ball around the table missing and missing. Dude left. I dropped the ball. I left.
All in all a good night. I stank but that's the price you pay for going to a smokey place to blend.
posted by J.R. at 7:48 AM
1 Comments:
That was my Dad, I sent him to in to fuck with you. Tammy told me where we could find you. If you believe that, you'll buy this watch. . . oh. . . too late.
You are one CMF
TF
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