20 June 2005

chasing pocket aces

Lately, I won a fiction writing contest. I won over a bill. Other than a nice bottle of Morgan 12 clone Pinot Noir I promised Karen we'd get if I were to succeed at my text-based endeavour, I splurged on a little online Texas Hold 'Em. Now, I'm not rich; I never bet more than I can afford to lose. So I haven't lost my head (or my ass). I've won a few and lost a few. Still riding my sum after five days of gaming with friends. The quickest way I've found to winning the money is patience--something Karen will say I lack, something I seemed to have gained in the PC process (and a lil TH'E). The quickest way to lose your electronic dollars is, in my humble opinion, to chase pocket aces.

QBD (quick break down): Two cards in TH'E are dealt to each player. Those two cards are called your pocket. Aces are the highest card. So, pocket aces are seen as a really good pocket set of cards. You probably know all of this from TV, however.

Anyway, everytime I chase those GDMFCS--here, I spare you the profanity--pocket aces, I lose. In a $5 buy-in single table tourney, you are given $1500 in chips in which to beat the table. Usually, to win, you want to hold onto those chips deep into the round, after all the newbs have lost their junk. And I usually fold.

But those pocket aces.


So I chase. I push in stacks of hundreds. I get two pair. Aces. Kings. The sweat's rollin'. The ticker's ticking skyward of 210 bpm. It's here that I meet the gambling addict, this blood-pumping, this nail-biting. If I didn't have self-control and a love of keeping my money....

Anyway, back to the dos A and the dos K. Good hand, as far as pairs go. But I'll be bronzed and put on display in the Country Music Hall of Fame if I don't get smoked by a runner on the turn or the river. Every GDMF time.

The feeling, the line right between knowing you have the victory in your hands and realizing you've lost almost all chance of winning your face back, well it sucks. The pit of your stomach, rotting and writhing. Your eyeballs squinting, unbelieving. Your GD junk ready to rip off your body and prance away.

That moment of breath and death has been my time with PC. Some days more breath. Some days more death. Always the proverbial razorblade, rusty and dripping with blood from those across the globey globe feelin' what I feel. Ready for the realization of dreams or the downfall of destiny.

Now, with my 2nd dental update off to PC (the doc saying nothing more than a crown needed), I'm ready to chase my destiny. I'm ready to take hold of the thing I've wanted since I was nine, watching those damn ads on the television, thinking, "How can you love a tough job?"

No more pessimism. Nor negativity. Nor ill will. Nor nasty emails. Nor thought to how many times I've been burned in this GDMFCS process. Nor cussing.



Ain't no one, ain't no cards, ain't no MFGD thing gonna stop me.

If they try, I'm walking to Washington.

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