I took my good shaft to Bryan Roberts for a new Moori tip today. My old tip wasn't really that worn, but I almost always get my tips replaced sooner than most people would.

After Bryan replaced the tip, I had him buff out a small ding and clean the shaft up really well.

So anyway, seeing my nice clean shaft, and knowing that it would quickly get dirty again, made me do something I thought I'd never do.

I bought one of those dorky pool gloves.

I figure that if I only wear the glove in the privacy of my own home my shaft will stay cleaner longer. I doubt that I'll ever get up the nerve to wear the thing in public.

At least I hope not.

For the last several days it's seemed that I couldn't miss any makeable shots.

That's not to say that I haven't been missing them - it just seems like I can't.

When I actually do miss a shot, like happened 2 or 3 times today alone, it's the most amazing thing. It seems just as likely that I'd crap my pants while shooting as miss a shot, but there it is. The missed shot, not the crap.

What I've recently gained in accuracy is often made up for by my lack of common sense. My runouts are very very impressive to watch I'm sure, but they're not quite what you'd call "textbook" pool. It's just so much fun to fire in a long shot and draw back 3 rails for shape. Shooting a stop shot for position is just so boooooring.

Something else I remember from the good old days - and that I rediscovered this weekend.

In a game where accuracy is most important, it's better to aim at something than not.

Even if what you're aiming at is wrong, you might learn something anyway.

This is all in stark contrast to back when I was young and played on bar tables. Back then aiming was a detriment, now that I'm blind and playing on tight-pocketed 9-foot tables it's pretty much a requirement.

That's for the accuracy games. For banks I still think aiming is a self-defeating activity.

A few weeks ago I wrote a little entry about respect, and in that entry I paid a few compliments to a player I know in Seattle.

So for those who've been wondering, that loud popping sound recently heard coming from the American Northwest was not Mt. Rainier awakening. It was actually YouKnowWhoYouAre's head exploding.

Now that my wrist seems to be healed, I'm back to banking balls at every opportunity.

Man, it's fun when they go in.