Like I Have Something To Talk About
I've owed Pauly
story for Truckin'
for about a year now, and the guilt is right on top of me and compelling me to work. So I resurrected a thing I started about a year ago (I actually titled the file "thing" in a fit of uncreativity) and I've been clattering away at it. It's not so much a story as a friggin' novella, I'm up around 4,000 words and it ain't nowhere NEAR done yet. It might end up with a word count around 15K or something absurd like that, meaning Pauly can just chop it up into 15 bite-sized pieces and I can sleep at night. For a year.
I do feel guilty about starting writing projects and not finishing them. And I feel guilty all the time. My Hellmuth opus cost me sleep. A thing (that word again) I started four years ago that I published in serial form (and anonymously) and never completed. I really need to get away for a bit, no TV, no Internet, no one around, and just bust my ass writing. Hey, it worked for Jack Nicholson in The Shining
I watched High Stakes Poker
the other night, and you gotta take your hat off to Barry Greenstein. Loses about $180K to Sam Farha when his aces get cracked by kings on the last hand of the night, and he just counts out the chips and ships 'em over. I'm sure he wasn't happy about it, but he took it like a pro. Hell, I
felt nauseous afterwards. I unfortunately didn't catch what Sean Sheikhan said that got Farha so ticked off, but I can imagine. He seems determined to out-goofball Hellmuth and Matusow, though he lacks their senses of humor. If Hellmuth's schtick can be called "humorous", which I suppose is in the eye of the beholder.
I had my first losing session playing micro NL the other day, dropping a whole two bucks
before I called it quits. I would've finished up again had I not lost a bundle (figuratively) when I held 9-10 and had the flop come 9-10-J. Bet, raise, call, and when I nine comes on the turn I figure I have the straights and flushes under my heel. The money goes in the middle and the bad guy turns over J-9. Ouch, babe. Fortunately he was shortstacked and I dropped but a pittance. I have to say, I can't remember having this much FUN playing poker in a long time. True, I've been winning, but I'm just enjoying myself a ton. I guess because the stakes are so low that I don't think about the money, which is the key for successful play. Perhaps my game has taken a quantum leap forward? Perhaps. Or, perhaps not. Probably not. Nah. No frickin' way. Fuck no.
We're all settled into our new building, and what a nice new building it is. Lots of natural sunlight, so my usual mid-winter bout of rickets has been avoided. It's just so clean and roomy and stylish. There's another building similar to ours next door and it was announced a big sports bar is going in there (along with a steakhouse) and a Mexican/Cajum bar is going into the ground floor of our own place. I see myself drinking much Dos Equis come the summer. Have a few beers, walk over to PNC Park and pick up some GA outfield seats, enjoy the night. Sweet.
The only complaint I have is with the cafeteria, which is good, but not fantabulous like our old one
. No Sizzle Salads, no fish sandwich. The food is good, but not great. I had a chicken carbonera sandwich, and it was OK. Just OK. They don't seem to have deep-fryers, and when I saw that we get baked tater tots instead of hand-cut fries, I wept. I had a good hamburger, but the mini-pizzas were just ehh. The pre-made salads and wraps look good, and the potato soup looked great. But there are logistical problems, you have to wait in line no matter what you want (the old place had four different stations plus a salad bar) and the same people making the food also dish it out, creating problems when something runs out.
Well, I've been bringing my lunch anyway, need to drop some serious weight, and the new fitness room is helping with that. That's just fantastic, though I need to get an iPod or something. I was there by myself the other night (the TV's haven't been installed yet) and I found myself pedaling away while staring blankly out at the blazing lights of the city. I saw my reflection in the window...and I found myself looking away. Creeped me out, man. Like he was looking into my soul. So he could steal it.