The Kiss of Death
I am approaching the year long mark of my reintroduction to poker. I thought I might have written much more on the subject, but I must say that I have been hesitant to go in-depth with the whole thing. I think it's time to play catch up with the topic. One of the points of this blog was to address some of these issues, but I can't help but feel incredibly self conscious about the experience. People generally have a distrust or preconceived picture of what kind of 'folk' we are. Degenerate, swindler-type-snake-oil-salesmen. I don't define my existence as a poker player, so why the guilt? (Although I did name the blog in accordance with the lifestyle)Might you label me childish and morally unkempt? Well, I have to get over that b/c even though I don't define myself as such, I take it pretty fucking serious nonetheless. Maybe it's my seriousness that I feel foolish about...Do I really think I can make it as a player? At any moment I could stop playing-the money could run out-the game ends. I already feel the game approaching the end as it is. The name of the blog would then be changed to The Failed Librarian or The Recreational Aging Musician or no, I got it: The Surrealist Librarian. I think I like that better, anyways...What does that say about the amount of energy I have shoveled into this locomotive? Could the energy have been better placed, such as relationships, creativity, grad school, etc? Perhaps, but right now I am having toooo much fun alone and lonely in Buffalo. Kenmore, NY to be exact.
With psychological wanderlust,
B.
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