Pinball and the Pursuit of Happiness...or Peace at 50 Cents a Play
Out of the blue I've developed an abundant love and appreciation for pinball.
Walking the waterfront a few months back, it finally dawned on me after who knows how many times that the large yellow cheese wedge on the side of one of the buildings, was in fact...
...Pacman
leading the way to the local arcade
Arcades beings such a rare thing these days compelled me inside
...and suddenly I've walked back in the 90s
...on the end corner of the first of two rows of a half a dozen machines
right besides it's rival SFII
first time walking in and a guy is playing MKII and my immediate inclination is to
(Yes, I know, it's from Street Fighter not Mortal Kombat)
...and I do issue forth my challenege, but unfortunately he has to catch a bus
I WILL...probably get my ass whupped, another time
After he leaves, I really take it all in.
Kids screaming, speeding by
the smell of the ice cream shop the next storefront down
...the elated
and the deflated
if ever there were a shrine to that mischevious
in us all, the arcade would be it's holies of holies
BUT
you see the
IS
the
PINBALL Therapy
...these wonderful machines might as well just have a sign front and center reading:
Not unlike Lucy, 50 cents a play gets you a bite-sized session of immense theraputic import.
Your therapist?
A METALLIC BALL
that you must focus on, with its slight changes in direction and wildly varigated speeds
and
keep it in play with two small, opposing inclined planes, a delicate juggling act to keep the ball from the
But herein lies its wonderous prescription:
The ball IS your therapist
telling you to
The ball IS your Zen teacher telling you all we have is the present moment
and strangely
it does come: