Saturday, October 19, 2024

Stockholm Syndrome

That Heaven 17 track. 

What Heaven 17 track? Key To The World? Soul Warfare? Contenders? I don't have a scooby. 

The "That Heaven 17 track" line has been sitting in my drafts for months. (I'm writing this in the middle of the night on the 6th February, 2025). I'm sure it meant something at the time. Now it's been lost to the midsts of time.

My fiftieth 180 of 2024 was in my fact my third 180 whilst practicing in a pub in South Brooklyn in the warm up for a small scale darts tournament (my first). People were milling around . . . in fact, it was darts nuts milling around, but nobody saw me whip out my phone to take a pic of the 180. Or if they did, they were playing it cool . . . as was I.

That day was a long darting day, but it was ultimately a fruitful endeavour. It definitely didn't turn out the way I was expecting. If I get any more cryptic, I will have to change my name by deed poll to 'Crossword'.




50/50


Addendum:
Just realised that this post is overly cryptic when I'd already kind of 'fessed up what I was doing - and where - in this post and this post. Serves me right for taking so bastard long to post this 180 on the blog. File under 'Pull Your Finger Out'.

"Only four minutes later . . . "

[Posted on a cold January 2025 morning. 'It's balaclava weather, btw.']

Isn't there some wanky meme on social media where someone puts on a fake French accent and does a voiceover of "Only four minutes later . . . " ?

Well, four minutes later I hit another 180. Again, no Ted Lasso moment . . . not even that scene in Roxanne moment. (With my nose, it would have been perfect casting.) I'm sure I surreptitiously looked around at the time to see if anyone noticed. Even an audience of one would have been nice at this point. Nada. Zero. If Zelig was in the bar watching on, he was well hidden.




49/50

Taking my darts seriously

[Posted on a cold January 2025 morning. 'It's Baltic, btw.']

There is a reason the board looks a bit different. I wasn't at home. I was in a bar in Brooklyn. If you're looking for specifics, a bar 10 minutes away from where I live. (I refuse to be any more specific.)

That begs the question: what am I doing in a bar on a Saturday afternoon in mid-October? Had I become a 'secret lemonade drinker' this late in life? Nothing so drastic. Have you seen the price of bottled beer in bars these days? It would bring a tear to a glass eye. No, late in life, I decided to become a 'secret dart tournament player'. What the hell. It was only 10 minutes up the road, and it would make a novel change from my usual Saturday afternoon of trying to find dodgy clips of the Celtic highlights on YouTube.

There was a lot of hanging around before the tournament actually started but the good thing is that there were four boards in the bar, so there was ample opportunity to practice. I only went and hit a 180 minutes after arriving at the bar. If this was a Hollywood movie - or that clip from Ted Lasso - the bar would be packed, and would have erupted into applause. As it's real life - and, more importantly, my life - no one seemed to notice. Even when I got the Kodak Box Brownie out to get a picture of my 48th 180 of 2024. They were either too busy practising themselves, fiddling with their phones or actually socializing with each other. (Weirdos.)




48/50

Monday, October 07, 2024

Thursday, October 03, 2024

An Afternoon Delight

One of those 180s where I didn't realise I was throwing for a 180. I wish they were all like that. Calms the nerves.

It was actually during a game against the Russ Bray dart app, and it was part of a 15-dart winning leg.  That might be my best ever leg.

140, 53, 65, 180, 63. (100.2 average)



42/50