I've got a million things to say about pool. What I've been doing, how I've been doing it, etc.

I really want to write some entries here. It's important to me, at least for now.

So, one of my new year's resolutions was to write in this blog. That didn't work out too well. Then one of my I-just-turned-48 resolutions was to write in this blog. We'll see how that goes. It's already been a week and this is the only entry so far.

I bought a cue today. But that's not what this is about. I also bought a cue a couple of weeks ago. I keep buying cues. It's like a disease or something.

Anyway, this is the cue I bought a couple of weeks ago. It's a Schon in the Hoppe style.

I'm totally in love with the way this cue looks.

Another rant, with slight inebriation this time. You're welcome.

I seem to drop the f-bomb a lot in this video. Oops.

So, I got lasik a couple of weeks ago. Even though I mostly got it for shooting pool, it's affecting other parts of my life as well. I've decided to keep most of the post about lasik on my main blog. The lasik posts are all here.

I'm sure I'll have some relevant posts on this blog as well, like the ones that are specific to pool and what lasik has done to/for my game, but most of the information will probably be over there.

Today I keep glaring at my left wrist, because that always helps, right? It's been hurting a little. Not the intense pain that has caused me to stop shooting so many times over the last several years, more of a dull ache that I fear could transform into actual pain.

So I've really thrown myself back into pool these last several weeks. That's why my wrist is hurting and that's why I'm concerned about it. I'd like to write more about throwing myself back into pool, but I'm making no such promises.

Still playing. A lot.

Distractions that, um, distracted me for several years are gone, at least for the moment. I needed something to occupy my mind, and I've rediscovered the simple pleasures of shooting balls into holes.

Okay, fine. There was just one distraction. It's not like I'm the first person this ever happened to.

Anyway.

Back in January of 2001, I had Grady Mathews in my basement for some lessons. Yesterday I watched the DVDs I made of that session. I noticed a few things:

1. I asked a lot of stupid questions. It seemed like I was expecting that there was some big secret to banking balls, and if I asked Grady enough times he'd finally reveal that secret just to get me to shut the fuck up.

2. Grady had incredible patience with me. This was nice, as it told me that I probably wasn't the most retarded player he'd ever given lessons to.

3. I shot almost every shot way too hard.

4. In January of 2001, I was the world's fattest person. In the background of some scenes, you could see Greenpeace people lurking, just in case there was any trouble from whalers.

I don't even know if this blog works anymore. I guess I'm about to find out.

Today I shot banks for eight straight hours. That's more pool in one day than I've probably shot in the last three years combined.

I suck from lack of practice, but I had a lot of fun.

And I bet I'm going to be really sore tomorrow. I can already tell that my feet will be killing me.

44 to go.

Today was a pretty good day, considering the circumstances.

I got this strong urge to shoot some pool. I don't know why, I just did.

I didn't even want to shoot against anyone. I just wanted to knock some balls into some holes. Sometimes, like tonight, that's all I want to do. Simple, but effective.

So I went to this Royal something-or-other place. It sucked. It was a nightclub with some pool tables. I wanted the exact opposite, except without the nightclub stuff.

I can't even remember the name of the place I went. The something.

That narrows it down.

All I wanted to do was knock some balls into some holes. But I was not about to back down from a challenge. Not this time.

It took about 10 seconds for one of the local "sharks" to detect me. It took about 60 seconds for us to negotiate a game, with a "friendly" wager and a "fair" spot.

It took about 5 minutes for me to realize that, in that particular little pond, I was the big fish.

The pussy quit me after a couple of hours and several hundred dollars. I don't really blame him except that he'd originally acted like he had money to burn.

The thing is, nobody up here knows how to play banks. Oh, certainly, people know how to bank, many of them much better than me, but to play the game of banks requires a special mindset. One that I possess, and others up here don't.

Like taking candy from a baby.