Entries for September, 2006
I started playing poker again because roy started playing again, and I'm a quick follower. This time however, I want to take it seriously. The trouble I have with poker is my belief that I can't be any good due to the fact I can't remember my hands. I can't even remember the previous hand played. Even if I do, I have a hard time recalling suits. I thought this problem over several times last night. Before I fell asleep I came up with a solution. I would write down all my hands on a tiny notepad, then I a) won't need to memorize the hands because it's all down on paper b)will slowly learn to memorize them through time. Either way, it's tedious but pretty exciting.
I played for a few hours last night, fake money of course. I accrued 10,000 chips. I started with 1,000. I lost it of course, and bought in another 1000. But I got to my goal last night. I wanted to make it a goal to get 10,000 every day in fake chips until I felt good enough to play real money. God knows I need to make some real money. Today, I played for 2.5 hours. I sat at a table, and took out only 500 chips. I wanted to get to 10,000 without losing the first 500. I accomplished that about 2 hours in. I wrote down every hand I played. Oddly enough, I played 69 hands. It's always 69. That number is unrelenting.
And I learned a very valuable life lesson today after my poker session. Out of the 69 hands, I had only a total of 8 showdowns, two of which I lost. I won only two pots without getting to showdowns, and folded 59 times. It's funny, but all it really took was 3 or 4 good showdown wins that got me to my goal of 10,000 chips. Sure the showdowns I lost and all those folded hands brought me down many times over. I was up to 2,500 chips at one point, and few hands later I was down to 400. A few great hands won, only a very few, and I ended the day over 12,000 chips. Goes to show that no matter the ups and downs in life, one must be patient and win just a couple of times, when it counts. That's all it takes to push one over his goal. Losses are insignificant. Only the mind blows losses out of proportion. Of course one must learn from the losses, but when it comes down to it, it's all about those few great wins.
listening to azure ray- november
Posted by yuhoo7 at 04:13 PM.
—Late November, and God was furious with us. It was cold and the pinpricks of rain falling upon our faces were reminders of reality. We trudged through the mud, as the rain fell harder. Thunder sounded, lightening flashed. We walked over to where Bailey lay, with her face buried in a shallow pool of wet earth. The ditch she rested in was fast filling with rain. (Read More)
listening to Azure Ray- November Posted by yuhoo7 at 03:20 PM. Filed under Creative Writing, short stories.
Posted by yuhoo7 at 08:46 PM.
Posted by yuhoo7 at 01:41 AM. Filed under Creative Writing, poetry.
listening to Angel City-Sunrise Posted by yuhoo7 at 06:35 PM. Filed under Creative Writing, poetry.
Posted by yuhoo7 at 07:15 PM. Filed under Creative Writing, poetry.
reading Post Office- Bukowski Posted by yuhoo7 at 03:33 AM. Filed under Creative Writing, poetry.
Posted by yuhoo7 at 11:43 AM.
Posted by yuhoo7 at 08:18 PM. Filed under Creative Writing, poetry.
watching Hunter S. Thompson interviews Posted by yuhoo7 at 11:28 PM. Filed under Creative Writing, poetry.
feeling relieved
I remember when
wrote this a while back, but never posted it
7/18/06-
Mires of a marginal man
minding the Cracks
in a Marathon
raced on a tiled track
other runners
don’t see the cracks;
it’s a race hard won
Marginal prizes:
Respect, Achievement,
Empty self Acknowledgement
and most importantly of all
a Metal trophy
that will be melted into a Cold bullet
in time of war
Satisfaction with
but not without
disdain
Masochistic yearnings
Unbeknownst to—
already knowing the outcome
without meeting the outcome
a Race too long for
a marginal man to win
tearing through an already torn
tape across the Finish line—
with crowd dispersed
only one person is left in the stands
the only one who—
there’s a saying about dying Alone
9/20/06
the thirst for It
reduces us
to wanting
more and More,
for the sake of--
9/20/06
Received a present today
That I could not give away
Living reticent dreams
And left with few words to say
Tomorrow is a withering rock
Slowly fading, impossibly distant
Today is already past
With an affected smile propped up top
I walk ahead with my head behind me
Tomorrow is a withering rock
And yesterday a shriveled petal
Today remains a mystery
Of which we know so little
Fall in L so easily,
fall so hard�
on unheard whispers and
imagined replies
Soul wants to connect,
Heart and body complies,
fleshing out the mind
On the other side
Unacquainted,
life goes on for her,
whose Soul never knew to connect,
never heard my whispers,
or spoke those imagined replies.
her Soul cannot connect with
her mind unaware
distant beauty,
too sacred and Raw
made so by the
formidable distance
and an unnamed mystique
let it remain this way
I�ll keep falling in L
over and over
back and forth
the crunch
too much too little
too fat
too thin
or nobody.
laughter or
tears
haters
lovers
strangers with faces like
the backs of
thumb tacks
armies running through
streets of blood
waving winebottles
bayoneting and fucking
virgins.
an old guy in a cheap room
with a photograph of M. Monroe.
there is a loneliness in this world so great
that you can see it in the slow movement of
the hands of a clock
people so tired
mutilated
either by love or no love.
people just are not good to each other
one on one.
the rich are not good to the rich
the poor are not good to the poor.
we are afraid.
our educational system tells us
that we can all be
big-ass winners
it hasn't told us
about the gutters
or the suicides.
or the terror of one person
aching in one place
alone
untouched
unspoken to
watering a plant.
people are not good to each other.
people are not good to each other.
people are not good to each other.
I suppose they never will be.
I don't ask them to be.
but sometimes I think about
it.
the beads will swing
the clouds will cloud
and the killer will behead the child
like taking a bite out of an ice cream cone.
too much
too little
too fat
too thin
or nobody
more haters than lovers.
people are not good to each other.
perhaps if they were
our deaths would not be so sad.
meanwhile I look at young girls
stems
flowers of chance.
there must be a way.
surely there must be a way that we have not yet
though of.
who put this brain inside of me?
it cries
it demands
it says that there is a chance.
it will not say
"no."
-Charles Bukowski
9/21/06-9/25
Standing on a tightrope
Six hundred feet above
With scattered,
Broken bottles below—
What is this?
I hate tightrope
Walking
At six hundred feet
A voice behind me whispers,
“just take it slow.”
(Read More)
9/26/06
staring at ceiling
thinking ‘bout life—
something is amiss.
seeking love,
settling for comfort
she lays with him for the longest time,
thinking the comfort will
last this time
longing for his return
as he leaves her,
she’d ask herself the question, “When?”
comfort is habit forming
like hugging a down-feather body-pillow
all the way to slumber,
without which she cannot dream at night
he is not her enemy
he is not her friend
just a habituated comfort
needed to reach dreamland
feeling not bad