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Sterling sank below my stop-loss at 6am, so I closed out. The stockmarket opened 90 points lower, hitting me for more than four figures, and last night, following a rather upsetting phone call with the woman I love, I was on tilt even before I sat down at the tables, so perhaps sitting at a 6-max game that was bigger than I had ever sat in before, and playing in a $5-$10 ring game 'because it was there', was not such a good idea.
I would have lost anyway, but I did run bad (AK v AA in the blinds at 6-max on a flop of Kxx rainbow; K9 straight under AK straight in the blinds; and, worst of all, a set of fives on the flop losing to a set of Jacks on the river; are all likely to seriously damage the wealth of any serious 6-max player at medium stakes). So, net result was, to put it mildly, fucking awful. I have no-one to blame but myself. A player should never sit down at the poker table to release emotions that have been built up elsewhere. That's what losers do.
I even posted a kind of Wintermute "fuck all this" message, at about 2am. I got virtually no sleep, but at least I had the wit to wipe that one at 5am or thereabouts. I'm still upset, I'm still a fuck-up. But at least I can observe the whole train crash with a kind of amused detachment. I've felt that going 0 for 4 with Kings in hold'em was bad, but going 0 for 4 in life is infinitely worse. I feel old, lonely, jealous and bitter at other people's happiness, and, to be honest, not a very positive contribution to the whole of humanity at the moment. Andyet, in a weird way, the whole awfulness of it is funny. My one hope is that perhaps I can bring some pleasure to other people through the wonder of schadenfreude, 'cos I certainly ain't going to be cheering anyone up any other way.
Thank god for the option of working at home, although choosing to lock yourself away when one of the things that is crucifying you is loneliness might seem, er, not the most logical way to go about things. But, hell, sometimes life isn't logical. I didn't fancy the idea of either (a) being the archetypal grumpy old man in the office, or (b) bursting into tears, or (c) going on some Hungerford-like stomping violent massacre of anything and anyone that stood in my way.
With the last of these being a distinct possibility.
So, I lock myself away for the protection of other people. God, I am so considerate.
So, fuck the world, fuck the commuters, fuck the shopkeepers, fuck the brothers, fuck the schoolkids, fuck the bosses, fuck it all. Ed Norton has given two great soliloquies in the history of film, one was in Fight Club and one was in 25th Hour. Combine those two speeches. Square them. Then you have some idea how I feel today. And that, my friends, is not good.
Okay, GOMs, I defy anyone to beat that.
Still, it could have been worse. If sterling bounces later today, I'm heading for the pharmaceuticals section of the chemist.
If I wipe this in a couple of hours' time, I've changed my mind.
I would have lost anyway, but I did run bad (AK v AA in the blinds at 6-max on a flop of Kxx rainbow; K9 straight under AK straight in the blinds; and, worst of all, a set of fives on the flop losing to a set of Jacks on the river; are all likely to seriously damage the wealth of any serious 6-max player at medium stakes). So, net result was, to put it mildly, fucking awful. I have no-one to blame but myself. A player should never sit down at the poker table to release emotions that have been built up elsewhere. That's what losers do.
I even posted a kind of Wintermute "fuck all this" message, at about 2am. I got virtually no sleep, but at least I had the wit to wipe that one at 5am or thereabouts. I'm still upset, I'm still a fuck-up. But at least I can observe the whole train crash with a kind of amused detachment. I've felt that going 0 for 4 with Kings in hold'em was bad, but going 0 for 4 in life is infinitely worse. I feel old, lonely, jealous and bitter at other people's happiness, and, to be honest, not a very positive contribution to the whole of humanity at the moment. Andyet, in a weird way, the whole awfulness of it is funny. My one hope is that perhaps I can bring some pleasure to other people through the wonder of schadenfreude, 'cos I certainly ain't going to be cheering anyone up any other way.
Thank god for the option of working at home, although choosing to lock yourself away when one of the things that is crucifying you is loneliness might seem, er, not the most logical way to go about things. But, hell, sometimes life isn't logical. I didn't fancy the idea of either (a) being the archetypal grumpy old man in the office, or (b) bursting into tears, or (c) going on some Hungerford-like stomping violent massacre of anything and anyone that stood in my way.
With the last of these being a distinct possibility.
So, I lock myself away for the protection of other people. God, I am so considerate.
So, fuck the world, fuck the commuters, fuck the shopkeepers, fuck the brothers, fuck the schoolkids, fuck the bosses, fuck it all. Ed Norton has given two great soliloquies in the history of film, one was in Fight Club and one was in 25th Hour. Combine those two speeches. Square them. Then you have some idea how I feel today. And that, my friends, is not good.
Okay, GOMs, I defy anyone to beat that.
Still, it could have been worse. If sterling bounces later today, I'm heading for the pharmaceuticals section of the chemist.
If I wipe this in a couple of hours' time, I've changed my mind.
