Post Turkey Day Musings
I had a decent Turkey Day, waking up early to write after a long poker session the night before on Party Poker where I failed to win a seat to the tournament in Costa Rica. Next time. I managed to get a couple of hours of writing in before noon. There were times this month when I wrote for five or six hours nonstop (up to eight or ten hours a day), so a two hour session seemed effortless. It's kinda like training for a marathon, running the marathon, and then a few days later going out for a quick jog. I had been working diligently on my poker blog the last few days (with some quality posts) and this weekend I expect to crank out the next issue of Truckin'. Aside from the hiatus earlier this month from blogging, I felt that the overall quality of writing in my blogs since the end of the summer was subpar. I was determined to return from my hiatus refreshed and with a serious effort to improve my slacking effort. We'll see how long I can keep it up.
Recent Writing Music Included...
1. Medeski, Martin & Wood
2. John Coltrane
4. Garage a Trois
5. Vida Blue
I am a fan of the IFC program Dinner for Five starring Jon Favreau where he invites four actors/writers/directors/producers to a sit down dinner in a posh eatery and they yap about the industry. IFC started a tradition of a Thanksgiving Marathon where they aired every single episode and I had a chance to see a few I missed and to watch some of my favorites. If I could invite a series of his guests to a dinner with me to shoot the shit, I'd select George Carlin, Kevin Smith, Faizon Love, and Tracy Ulman. They all seemed to be the funniest with the most bizarre stories to tell about Hollyweird and the independent film making process.
Football was not as exciting as it could have been. Peyton Manning whooped the Lions, but at least Kevin Jones rushed for 99 yards (he's on my fantasy team). The second game was an exercise in futility with the lowly Bears taking on an even more inept Dallas Cowgirls. Gambling on football this season has been as lucrative as opening up a Starbucks in downtown Fallujah.
Last night, I played a Stud high/low tournament on Pokerstars and came in 239th out of 3667. I did not make the money but I guess I should feel good about outlasting 3000+ players. Too bad 239th place paid the same as 3667th place. Late late night, I also hopped on Party Poker and had the lead in a three table tournament and blew it! I ended up coming in 7th out of 30. I had the Hilton Sisters cracked by Big Slick. I managed to get four aces again! The second time this week. I won a huge pot too. In other poker news, I have to play over 500 hands before Monday if I want to earn a reload bonus of $100. I'm halfway there. Jeez, I just realized that two weeks from right now, I'll be getting off the plane at McCarran Airport in Las Vegas with my brother. Man, I cannot wait. That's 336 hours from now. I haven't been this excited about a trip in a long time. I'm going to be meeting a few poker pros (Charlie Shoten and Ron Rose) and poker bloggers that I have never met before. That's always a great experience, meeting new people with shared interests. Plus I get to get shithoused drunk with AlCantHang and Big Mike.
"Where were you when certain people died?" Someone recently asked me about Kurt Cobain. I was in college in Atlanta at the time of his alleged suicide, and I was eating dinner at Eats (I love their cheese tortellini) with some friends when we heard the news on the radio. I'm an affirm believer that he was killed by Courtney Love, the fuckin' skeevy cuntbag. The news of his death did not impact me as much as it had a greater impact upon my generation (I think some nimwits dubbed us Gen X after Doug Copeland's novel). When Jerry Garcia died a year later, shit, that hurt. I went to see an afternoon Yankees game with Jerry where Cal Ripken hit two homeruns in a Baltimore win. I stopped by the museum after the game to meet up with some coworkers for cocktails. My friend Karen walked over and gave me a huge hug and said she was "so sorry." A few other coworkers came over to offer their condolences. That's when I found out about Jerry Garcia dying. I bolted for Strawberry Fields and hung out at the Imagine circle with hundreds of other deadheads and hippies. That's a night that I'll never forget. I always wondered if that officially marked the end of the 1960s. How about the Pope? Flashback to 1980 (or 1981), and I was at little league practice after school when one of my teammates, Kenny Kleinman, told me "Your Pope got shot." Kenny was Jewish if you hadn't picked up on that. He was only in charge for a little bit before he was marked for a hit. Wasn't JP1 poisoned? His reign was just a month. Looks like Pope JP2 was bulletproof. He's still hanging on. Of course what would the 1980s be without big time assassinations and failed attempts? JP2, Reagan, John Lennon. I woke up and saw the news that day, oh boy. That's how I found out about Lennon, while eating my Fruit Loops. I was at judo practice when Reagan was shot. When I got home I watched the news footage. If John Hinkley were a better shot, Pappa Bush would have been a two plus term President.
I watched The Girl Next Door after dinner. Man, Elisha Cuthbert is smoking. The movie was flawed (she should have gotten more screen time) but it reminded me of a 1980s flick. I'd cast her in any of my films. Make sure you vote for her when Sigge starts open voting for his Woman of the Year next week. I waish I could rambling on and on about her. Alas, I have stuff to do.
That's it for now. Time for me to hit the tables at Party Poker.