Saturday, June 5, 2010

2000 words and a hangover (and a game of pool)


If this red oblong was a pool table, would it be prohibited?
Admittedly, they're not very convincing words. Some writers suggest that you write a minimum of a few hundred words a day, however badly, to keep the pace. Others believe you should only write when you have something to say and when you feel you can say it eloquently. I guess I'm more in the first camp; after all there's always redrafting.

Last night, aged 32, blurry from a concoction of summer drinks and shortly before the Heavy Metaller pub we were drinking in at two in the morning chucked us out, I learnt to play pool. It was kind of GESTALT! Of course, I have tried before, many times, to get the ball in the hole but perhaps I haven't tried since before I began my PhD. Maybe my brain really has expanded in terms of some logic cogs clicking into place. I was never very good at logic, more lateral I think. And I wasn't hot at trigonometry. But now I get it. The white ball has to hit the coloured ball at the same point of contact where you would hit it if you had the luxury of no white ball. It doesn't matter what direction the force comes from, as long as it puts pressure on it at that point-  the most trigonometrically viable. So now I imagine I'm hitting it face on, from the ideal position, then I remember the spot on the ball and aim for that but from the imperfect position. I guess it's how I go at anything in life these days. The older I get, the further I am away from the Ideal position to achieve something. I have the same goals but I have to be more creative in the way I reach them. Either that, or I break the rules. Or I forget about the goals and just enjoy the game. Oh, the joys of using a game of pool for its semiological scope.

I had better go to bed though. It's been a long and fruitless 2000 words and a hellova hangover. But it was worth it.

 

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