Tuesday, March 31, 2009
This is not a goodbye post or anything dramatic like that. I'm not fishing for attention, just stating a truth that I've been trying to deny for several months. I've discovered what I really love about playing poker will never be accomplished by staring into the magic box for hours on end. Its a tool, but its not the goal.
The things I love about poker are (a) the camaraderie; for a healthy amount of time I thought I had that. I loved discussing hands and situations with my fellow bloggers, I followed progress, I participated. It was good. I have made fantastic connections with some of you that I will not let subside, but I like looking into a person's eyes and the fluid nature of a live game; (b) the nuance; I love the fact that the answer to nearly every poker situation is "it depends". Every situation is unique, every hand requires recall, thought, and intuition; (c) the money; I don't think its a secret that I love to see chips flying across the table. I love the sound, the feel, the sight of a person who has just won or lost a big pot.
You see where I'm going. On-line poker has turned into a video game for me, a time-waster, a place to flush my hard earned money down the virtual tubes. I cant take it anymore, and its false to pretend to think I can be a better player online, 'cause it's obvious to me that I don't care to make the moves to become one.
I love the game, I am a successful player when the cards, the people and the chips are in front of me. I really don't know why there's a difference. It just is, and I'm not ignoring it anymore. Most of you who still read this I'm sure you'll see me virtually or live again. I still won't be able to tear myself away from games like this:
..among others. You guys are just too much fun.
So if indeed you still read these pages, I appreciate it. I still read ~50 or so blogs on a regular basis.
I'll try to be more read-worthy in the coming months posting more about the traveling that's going on and the hustle and bustle of everyday life that is a father of 3 in the 'burbs.
See ya around!
Monday, March 23, 2009
I had a long exhausting trip up to NYC Thursday and Friday, I layed low even though I did contemplate hitting up a new club for some poker. By the time 6:30 rolled around on Thursday I was sofa king tired I could barely complete a sentence.
I opted to plop myself down in my hotel's bar for food and basketball highlights. I could have easily retired around 9, however I befriended a young salesman from NC and proceeded to get good and lubricated. I finally hit the sack around 11 and managed to donk off some $ on Full Tilt. I'm such a monkey sometimes.
I worked tirelessly yet bleary eyed through Friday and caught my Flight out of LGA confident in my abilities to put out quality work while smelling like an oak Macallan cask.
I pulled in to my house around 10:00 where the wife was there entertaining 2 of her friends and an unfortunate boyfriend. Obviously we stayed up far too late and polished off what wine we had in the house.
Saturday, I bailed on my tennis match and took MasterP and one of his buddies to their baseball practice. While they practiced, I found the nearest coffee and proceeded to drown in it for the next hour. After practice I took the boys to Zaxby's and we downed copius amouts of chicken digits. I had somehow managed to miss Zaxby's up till that point and wasn't overly impressed, but it aint bad for fast food I suppose.
The mouse (middle girl, stay with me) had a softball game Saturday afternoon, which I had to miss. Keep in mind the mouse is 8 years old and just starting to appreciate softball. I was however regaled to the following story:
Mouse was playing third base at the time and the biggest girl on the opposing team (BFG) was up to bat. BFG crushed a line drive towards my daughter's left knee, and she just did not have the time to move. Mouse fell to a heap on the ground and my wife bolted in from left field to asses the damage. Mouse was bawling and heaving and clinging to my wife for a few minutes and someone else delivered some ice. My wife asked mouse if she wanted to have a seat on the bench to ice her knee and mouse just stopped, grabbed her dusty hat from the dirt, put it back on and assumed her position at 3rd base as she wiped the tears from her eyes.
The very next batter hit a drive down the third base line which the mouse speared, then stomped defiantly on third base for the third out. She gently tossed the ball toward the mound and marched off the field. Both she and the wife repeated the story to whoever would listen for the next 24hours, it was a good one.
The in-laws were having a surprise party for my father in law on Saturday night, and I was a key part of the obfuscation of the days activities. I had to pretend to go to work on a planned outage and my wife was going shopping with her mother. Therefore pa-in-law was called in for kid duty, which he actually loves.
As flimsy as the plan was, it worked and he was dutifully surprised. We partied with the old folks and had a generally good time. Given the proper amount of 18 year old Balvenie I'm a real charming mofo.
Sunday the wife had a tennis match and the boy had a baseball game, which they won easily. I seem to remember the boys being so much better pitchers when I was that age....anywho. I couldn't get home fast enough so I could assume the position on my lazy boy and pass out.
Monday, March 16, 2009
I have no intention of torturing any of you with my mental regurgitation from days gone by. I do intend to transcribe the vast majority of my poetry here, but I will keep it hidden from view from now on out.
I'm warming up to this again, so bear with me, I'm gonna tinker some more so I'm happy with my 'new' home. Then I should be able to be comfortable enough to once again regale you with my BS.
Friday, March 13, 2009
a density unknown
like flashes from a camera
strobe and up-close
pardoned from treason
an agency of fascinating people
observing behavior much unlike its' own
the creature stirrs with madness
unlike the possibilities
an alien abduction from
his natural domain
sightless and bleary
unable to live in the midst
of the ungratefulness we serve
to the ones we owe so much
apparent to philosophers
unseen by you and me
we wave in disbelief
as the trail leads to