What Have I Written?

I went to the doctor this week. He asked me what I did for a living and I told him I was a writer.

"What have you written?" he asked.

"Oh you know." I said.

"The new Grisham Novel."

"A little Stephen King."

"Parts of the bible."

"Oh and I have a poker blog."

There was a lull in the conversation so I asked him who he's operated on.

He listed some names but there was no one worth mentioning.

Taking Out The Garbage

We're packing to move.

You know how I hate to brag, but truth be told I just threw out the garbage. This meant a fresh bag for the kitchen, which in turn presented an opportunity for me to bask in a little garbage bag glory.

Long story short, around a year ago I went really LONG on garbage bag futures and bought some ridiculously large box at Costco or Sams Club or whatever mega-store it is that I always shop at and exclusively endorse. The box was huge and a great value.

How big was the box?

Well according to the mega-store manager, there were six figures of garbage bags inside of it. There was a rumor on the check out line that within each of these bags was another bonus garbage bag but I didn't believe that part. I'm not sure why people need to start these rumors. As if six figures of garbage bags isn't enough. Now I gotta be disappointed when I get home and find out that I don't get double the garbage bags?

And until the technology improves for counting these garbage bags, I'm just gonna have to take their word and trust this manager guy. What choice do I have? There are just too many bags for me to count by myself.

I want to thank everyone who've said they'd come by to help me count the bags. At the poker tables it's usually the guys at lower limits. Makes sense since in theory their time is worth less money. I really appreciate all the generosity but I think I'm just gonna wait till the technology catches up to find out.

It seems like just yesterday, standing in the mega-store, making the second biggest decision of my life. I'll never forget my wife's gasp when she first saw the unopened box in the converted airplane hangar. Knowing full well she'd be seeing this same box outside our home for decades to come.

The craziest part was even with her fully aware of the box's arrival to our home, she still fainted when the delivery guys left it in our driveway.

I know the financial analysts have been talking. Saying I've put too much into the garbage bags. Saying that my portfolio is not diversified enough. That BS!

How can I not be diversified enough?

Everyone knows I'm diversified!

I'm voting for Obama.

And lets make one thing clear: I didn't go long with the garbage bags to please anyone else. I didn't do it to satisfy the critics. I didn't do it to gain the attention of my neighbors. I did it for myself. And maybe this blog entry.

What can I say? I like the security. I like possessing something that is finite yet feels infinite. I love having the essential tool for cleanliness.

It's not the broom. And it's not the pan.

But it is still part of the endgame.

Mostly I like knowing that every time I go to the box there will be thousands of garbage bags waiting for me. In case I need. One.

And I'm not aloof. I know my neighbors are angry. Calling me names. People across the street to the South saying that my box of bags obstructs their view of the Stratosphere. People behind me to the North saying my box messes with their experience of the Luxor light. (What the hell is an "experience of the Luxor light" anyway?) People to the East saying they can't see the Wynn anymore. As if that's the reason they can't sell their home. There's a recession people.

And EVERYONE in my zip code saying cell phones don't get the same reception they used to. Ever since that box of garbage bags showed up.

Well too bad for all of them.

If garbage bags have taught me anything at all, it's that you can't please everyone.

A Vegas Year is 19 Months Long.

That's how quickly it happens.

Like watching a runner runner flush...

Boom.

Just like that.

The Vegas Year is over.

There's a theoretical seat open at my figurative table.

I'm so grateful for the opportunity I've had to live here. It was a dream come true to jump into the world of Vegas poker. I've watched, seen, and learned so damn much. Writing about it has been a joy as well.

Of course living here has also been difficult at times. To have to win, yet not always win. To feel bad that I'm not working hard enough, then go lose money and feel even worse that I played at all.

And of course dealing with the tilt. The emotions. The great challenge of not letting results matter, when in fact they're all that do matter. Unless the gas station and supermarket start taking your bad beat stories.

I'm excited to relocate. Our next stop is California. Being from NYC I've occasionally had an attitude towards the West Coast. Maybe it's the whole Brooklyn losing the Dodgers to Los Angeles thing. All I know is now after 19 months of living in the desert, California looks to me like the Garden of Eden.

The best part about the way the human mind works is that I'm already fantasizing about coming back to Vegas to play poker for a weekend...

And I haven't even left yet!

I think I wanna stay at the Bellagio.

And then fly back home and out of Vegas 48 hours later!

Leaving is a big part of the fantasy.

That's what I call the happy ending.