if you must...   if you must, you may contact me through email (click icon)
your email may be published, in whole or in part, if found sufficiently hilarious

2015

thank you QVNNY

March 2015
S M T W T F S
« Feb    
1234567
891011121314
15161718192021
22232425262728
293031  

• Archives

• 2014 Majors

• 2013 Majors

CSI POOL
BCAPL National 8-Ball Championships
Rio All-Suite Las Vegas Hotel and Casino
Las Vegas, NV
first time at the Rio (adios Riviera) and things get epic
 
INDEPENDENT EVENT
Hard Times 10-Ball Open
Hard Times Billiards
Bellflower, CA
just a lil pre-Vegas warm up tournament
 
INDEPENDENT EVENT
West Coast Challenge
$4,000 added One Pocket
$10,000 added 10-Ball
California Billiard Club
Mountain View, CA
last event at this location before they close (sadface)
 
INDEPENDENT EVENT
Cole Dickson Memorial 9-Ball
Family Billiards
San Francisco, CA
for legendary road player Cole Dickson
 
INDEPENDENT EVENT
Pots 'N' Pans Memorial 9-Ball
Pool Sharks
Las Vegas, NV
celebrating hustler Bernard Rogoff, better known as "Pots 'N' Pans"
 
THE ACTION REPORT
TAR35 | Dennis Orcollo vs Shane Van Boening
TAR Studio
Las Vegas, NV
second and third days
 
THE ACTION REPORT
TAR33 | Francisco Bustamante vs Alex Pagulayan
TAR Studio
Las Vegas, NV
second (1P) and part of third (10B) day
 
THE ACTION REPORT
TAR32 | Ronnie Alcano vs Jayson Shaw
TAR Studio
Las Vegas, NV
GREAT match • Andy Mercer Memorial 9-Ball Tournament coverage
 
INDEPENDENT EVENT
Chet Itow Memorial 9-Ball
California Billiards Club
Mountain View, CA
drank too much to do good coverage, but here it is, anyway
 
CSI POOL
Jay Swanson Memorial 9-Ball
Hard Times Billiards
Bellflower, CA
let Robocop show you how to run a six-pack, Citizen
 
THE ACTION REPORT
TAR31 | Mike Dechaine vs Shane Van Boening
TAR Studio
Las Vegas, NV
ALL HAIL THE HOVERCAT
 
THE ACTION REPORT
TAR30 | Darren Appleton vs Shane Van Boening
TAR Studio
Las Vegas, NV
the boys are back in town
 
 
10+1 INTERVIEWS
» Huidji See
» Donny Mills
 
 
EVERYBODY WAS KUNG-FU FIGHTING
the best kind of New Year's Sandwich
that's not okay
 
 
READER'S CHOICE
you know that I'm no good
on being a reasonable human being with realistic expectations
 
instasham series
stories from the distant and slightly-less-distant past
 
the only people for me are the mad ones
questions, tournaments, bets, running 26.2 miles

• LINKY LINKS

PARTY ANIMALS
The Action Report
purveyor of fine challenge matches between highly-skilled players of note
 
PUBLICATION
Cue Times Billiard News
Colorado's best resource for all things pool-related
 
CASE
Jack Justis Cases
the choice of champions
 
CUE
Sugartree Customs
made by Eric "Slower Than Snails" Crisp, if and when he feels like it
 
CUE
Tucker Cue Works
"If you feel the need to ask me how your cue is progressing every week then maybe there is a better choice of cuemakers out there for you."
 
MEAT
Kurzweils' Country Meats
yes, meat

motivation

 

Here is some stuff that is only very tangentially billiards-related.

. . . . .

 

A friend convinced me to join a beginner’s fitness class. The class had a wide range of people from those who had never thought about fitness before but were now interested in improving their health to those who came equipped with all sorts of shit like mats, gloves, and sweatbands from the 70s with annoying chipper attitudes to match. I was in the middle of the spectrum.

There were a lot of new things in this class I was slow to pick up because, for the last few decades of my life, all I ever did was run. (My parents were okay with me running because it was a sport that did not require them to purchase additional equipment.) But now, there were resistance bands, plates, little clippy things that always found a way to squash the tender bits of skin on your hands, barbells, dumbbells, kettlebells, assbells, whateverthefuckbells all ringing away and all this new technique shit I had to learn while the sun hadn’t even broken the horizon yet.

These workouts are like brushing my teeth: boring as shit but necessary to maintain health. I am motivated in pool because the rewards and results are more immediate and tangible. You win money. You get a trophy (if you give a shit about the trappings of success). People say shit like, “Damn, I didn’t know you could play at all.” This fitness class? Not so much. I don’t see it as competition. As long as I’m not the worst person there, I’m all right not being the best. I just want to show up, do what’s required, and then get the fuck out.

Today, we ran stadium stairs and interspersed our runs up and down with pushups and carrying weights back and forth. We were to do this until failure or time was up. This class emphasized weights and running was a rarity. I was a fairly good runner at one time in my life but not anymore and I was rather apprehensive about that much running. The instructor said we would all start off close together but as the workout progressed, we would space out into wherever our pace fit us best.

Even as a shitty runner, I still had all those decades behind me so I was in the front group at the beginning. I kept thinking I needed to pace myself, to not push myself too hard, to not lose dignity by having to go puke up my guts. Running down the steps I got a little off balance from all the vertigo of trying to go down steps at speed while watching them fly past you. I slowed to a walk and this lady who had always reminded me of a nosy, meddling, know-it-all mother-in-law passed me. I looked at her and she smiled smugly. Then she turned and went down the stairs sideways. Then she did a one-eighty and skipped down sideways again. She looked at me and smiled again while waggling her eyebrows. Then she was turning in circles dancing down the stairs.

 

Okay.

I don’t mind suffering.

I understand there will always be suffering.

I only ask that you leave me to suffer quietly by myself and not be a dick about it.

 

My lungs were burning. My sides hurt. I was still tired from the shit we did in the previous class. I am, and always will be, not a morning person to a murderous degree. There was at least twenty more minutes of this horrid shit left to go.

And now, this fucking pair of grannypanties was moonwalking down the stadium stairs like it ain’t no thang.

 

I know.

 

If she wants to smooth criminal a thousand steps because it’s just that easy for her, that’s fine. It has nothing to do with me. She can float on as her special snowflakey self and I can plod laboriously down these stairs at my own pace, doing just enough, and then go about my life with nothing more than an eyeroll and muttered “whatever.”

Or I could, “HELL no. Bitch, you did NOT just do that.”

The race was on.

 

I remembered I was a runner, once, and eventually, the rest of me remembered, too. I forgot I was tired. I forgot I had shitty lungs. I ran faster and faster and watched her try to keep up until she failed. Then I forgot about her and ran after the next person, and the person after that, until there was only one person left to take down—and I wasn’t able to do it before the clock was up. And for once, I was mad in this workout because I didn’t “win”, and I felt I could have.

When we were done, grannypanties singsonged to me, “Oh, well, you’ll be tired tomorrow!”

Tomorrow? I’m fucking tired now. God, I’m so tired. I’m tired now thinking about how tired I will be tomorrow. I can’t fucking lift my arms without shaking. They shake so bad I have to hold this arm up with my other hand so that you can see the one thing that isn’t shaking and isn’t tired: my middle finger telling you to go fuck yourself.

Thanks for the motivation.

 

 

aw hell naw

to escapism

I can’t remember if I’ve written about the great (literally and figuratively) trees we have out here on the west coast. We don’t have the colorful plumage the Northeast has with its fall colors, so we have to make up for that in size. I guess you could say we are overcompensating a bit, since our most famous trees are the Coastal Redwood (Sequoia sempervirens) and the Giant Sequoia (Sequoiadendron giganteum).

Continue reading to escapism

music and warm bodies

Mission San Francisco de Asís, or Mission Dolores, is the oldest surviving structure in San Francisco and the sixth religious settlement established as part of the California chain of missions (there are 21 total). The Mission was founded on June 29, 1776, by Lieutenant José Joaquin Moraga and Father Francisco Palóu (a companion of Father Junipero Serra), both members of the de Anza Expedition, which had been charged with bringing Spanish settlers to Alta (upper) California, and evangelizing the local Natives, the Ohlone.

Continue reading music and warm bodies

damages

If there had been no one else in that pool hall he would have tried to kill me.

Continue reading damages

podcast: you know that I’m no good

listen to my rant “you know I’m no good” in colorful sound with much colorful language // sponsored by Heath Willard

Continue reading podcast: you know that I’m no good

this is what happens when I drink a lot at a tournament

 
 
Well,

Continue reading this is what happens when I drink a lot at a tournament

learn from the mistakes of others

After a moment spent grasping for words, he looked me in the eye and said, “You play like me.”

Continue reading learn from the mistakes of others