Yea, the sparrow hath found an house, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young, even thine altars, O Lord of hosts, my King, and my God.
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Thursday, May 26, 2011
A blast from the past
I don't know how much of my parents' money went into the Asteroids game at Knott's Berry Farm in the summer of 1980, but it was not enough, by any means.
I'd recommend caution, however. I think it's easy to damage your space bar and direction keys on your keyboard
with this.
I was reminded of it the other day when I was walking, or attempting to walk down a narrow, crowded street in Rome. It suddenly dawned on me what it is like. It's like playing Asteroids.
~
Good Lord, that's a time machine. My ancient skills returned instantly (a bit rusty, though) along with the feel of the linoleum floor at Settles' Pool Hall and Fresh Mississippi Fish Market [sic] in Findlay, Illinois, the smell of cigarettes, the angle at which I leaned to play the game, the clicking of billiard balls behind me, the heft of quarters in my jeans pocket. Just amazing.
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