CAFE LEDET

It's the kind of place that's sort meant to make you uncomfortable -- without music -- people sit expressionless at tall thin cherrywood tables a foot in diameter and set for four -- I listened to some gal speaking loud French -- with slight grammatically mistakes -- probably purposefully, just to see who notices and corrects her and becomes her next friend. It's that kind of coffeeshop -- a fashionably unpleasant, clean, dim-lighted place -- so frustrating --
that the place happens to be right next door to me.

AUSTIN 911

The only time I care about hockey is during a time like when whoever wins will get the championship, or when there's national pride at stake like in the Olympics or if I happen to be playing it for some weird reason -- that's actually happened before --
Or if I must PRETEND to like it -- that was the case a few nights ago.
Some poker players were in town for the ROT rally from the Dallas area, and I was at a friendly game at their hotel room. They seemed to be decent players. It was a fairly normal poker night, except for four things:
They had the hockey on --
Intentionally --
Giving it attention --
And they were discussing the game!
I didn't get that scene at all.
My German professor in college mentioned one day that all German words starting with the prefix "ver" had bad connotations -- and I asked him about "verstehen" -- and how was it that understanding could be bad -- and he said that verstehen was one of the worst words of all because understanding implies responsibility, and that's such a profound burden -- and I said what -- and he said I would understand when I get older and if I developed any moral sensibilities -- and I said okay. I think I made a C in there.
I'm glad that I didn't understand the hockey scene in that hotel room.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME

Thirty-five years on earth -- wow. I'm officially not a little kid anymore. I should have figured out a few things about life by now.
Life is like a poker tournament. Some make the money, some go out early, and it's always good to have fun playing the game. I don't know about the purpose of life, but I'm pretty sure that it's not contest to see who can get through it making the fewest mistakes. Some people play poker like it's that kind of contest -- they usually have issues.
Life's too short for fast food -- except for Chick-Fil-A. They're good. Chick-Fil-A could bring a howling rooster to my table and probably find a way to make me enjoy it. The guy who started Chick-Fil-A also founded a summer camp where kids sing these lyrics to the tune of the Battle Hymn of the Republic:
I wear my pink pajamas in the summer when it's hot
I wear my flannel nighties in the winter when it's not
And sometimes in the Spring time
And sometimes in the Fall
I jump between the covers with nothing on at all
Glory, Glory, Hallelujah
Glory, Glory, Hallelujah
Glory, Glory, Hallelujah
With nothing on at all.
You gotta love Chick-Fil-A -- no other choice.
Life is different after you follow Davis Blaine for a while. Is he still doing magic?
Life is weird when someone wishes you happy birthday and starts talking about astrological signs.
That's about it.

THERE IS NO HAPPINESS LIKE MINE

Out on the balcony a couple dozen floors above 3rd street -- sunset time -- drinking something with dry vermouth and something else -- over-looking downtown Austin -- swinging on a pleasantly unusual chair-hybrid-hammock type thing -- feeling the breeze that makes it seems about 10 degrees cooler than the 80 degrees showing on the Amtrak thermometer --
There is no happiness like mine -- I've never experienced satisfaction like THIS satisfaction -- and, surprisingly, it doesn't have much to do with the idyllic setting --
It comes from a computer "beep-cling" -- notifying me that I've just finished downloading all 249 episodes of The Love Boat.

VALUES

Any day that the Red Sox win is a good day for civilization. If the Yankees lose on the same day, its a GREAT day for civilization. If the Red Sox beat the Yankees head-to-head, then we might as well be back in the Garden.

LARGE FLIGHTLESS BIRDS ARE PEOPLE TOO

LARGE FLIGHTLESS BIRDS

"Let's go to Chango's," Kim said.
I started spending a lot of time in Austin beginning in the summer of '04 -- it's a pleasant little city -- walkable, bikeable, complete with a good variety of TexMex -- except for the fact that surprisingly many places don't offer my kind of tacos.
When I order tacos, I like crispy corn tortillas filled with ground beef or steak with cheese and sauce. I'm not fond of soft tacos. I'm not very particular about the kind of sauce, and there doesn't have to be any at all -- if the meat is spicy enough. Wouldn't you consider my taste rather standard?
But so many places can't satisfy it. Chango's can't satisfy it, and that's why I'm not eating there tonight.
My girl, my love, my moderating force, my bow from which I shoot my arrow into the world, my teammate in four-way-truth-or-dare-scrabble, my cleaner, my partner, my cute squawking emu -- how do I tell her no?
"No," I said.
"Why not?"
"I don't like the food there."
Hence the conflict, and yet another example of the difference between men and women when facing such an issue. A man would probably suggest somewhere else to eat. We'd eventually agree on a restaurant, and the whole matter would end in a good meal for both of us.
Now with Kim, she won't talk to me for a day or two, and even afterward, she'll never admit to there being a disagreement to begin with. And long, long after this latest failure to peck away at my will, the whole matter may never be resolved at all.
But here's the good part: You see, I had these same situations at 15 and at 25 that I do now at 35; I've become better at handling them. Tonight, I know that I don't have to get over anything -- There's nothing for me to get over -- because I'm not the one with the problem.
She wanted us to go to Chango's tonight. That's her problem. I just finished great crispy tacos without her at La Morada -- genuinely enjoying myself. My patience with her problem will be just as genuine -- when I hear her complain later. And if that sweet squawk ever turns bitter, I'm sure she can find another nest.

THE ELECTRIC KOOL-AID POKER TEST

When I walked into the poker-room, the first thing I noticed was an aquarium as the south wall -- not an aquarium by the south wall -- but a 20' X 12' X 2' aquarium built as the south wall -- full of water and pretty coral and sand on the bottom -- with just a lone, exotic thing swimming around slowly -- grinning, I swear -- and colored like some pipe-hitting abstract expressionist painter had gone marine.
"Swell fish," I said.
I had never been there before. Good poker players at this 1-2 no-limit game -- all of them -- and I had the good luck to catch a couple of flushes on the first two hands, doubling my stack -- then coasting for an hour-and-a-half before --
I pick up jacks on the button. Everyone lumps in, and I raise to $25, and I get two callers. The flop come 8-7-5 rainbow, and it checks around to me. I'm all in for $88 more, and after about a minute of -- I don't know -- thought, maybe -- the player on my right calls with 9-7. He rivers a 6 for a straight.
"Thanks, her name's Beatrice," the aquarium guy said.
"She doesn't have any friends?" I ask.
"No. She attacks and eats up anything else I try to put in there. I've quit trying."

ARETE

Alright now, Fellas -- what's cooler than being cool?
Ice Cold!
I can't hear ya-- what's cooler than being cool?
ICE COLD!!!!
Alright, Alright, Alright, Alright, Alright, Alright, Alright, Alright, Alright, Alright, Alright, Alright, Alright, Alright --
Ok now, ladies -- -- Outkast
Kim and I had dinner, and then I made us dessert.
-- peeled two bananas and cut off the ends. Cut them up into 3/4" slices. Very slowly, over medium heat, sauted a stick of butter, two teaspoons of cinnamon, half-a-cup of dark rum, a little banana liquor, some brown sugar and a shot of lemon juice.
Pulled out a big 2-quart homemade pottery bowl. Added four scoops of rich vanilla ice cream, drizzled with chocolate syrup. Poured in the sliced bananas and sauce on top. Poured half-a-cup of bacardi 151 on all that, and set it on fire.
-- not really the kind of thing you'd whip-up for a midday snack alone --
Got a huge spoon and shared it and the bowl with a good woman. That's civilization, my friends. Do it enough, and someone will build a temple in your honor.
We finished dessert and I snuggled up with her. Some guys would play some Barry White right about now, or maybe James Taylor. But Kim's got herself a real man-
I turned up the volume of the national spelling bee.
"Cacolet"
"That was soooo much sugar in that," she said.
"You ain't seen nothing yet."
"Could I have the definition?"
"A calcolet is a mule-carried military assistance unit for the sick or wounded -- calcolet."
I suppose you might find other means of setting the mood -- better ways than tuning the TV to hear little kids spell unimaginably obscure words -- one after another -- well, I've got my game and you've got yours.
"Could I have the part of speech, please?"
"'Calcolet' is a noun."
"What's the language of origin?"
"French."
"Are they're any alternative pronunciations?"
"'Cal-co-LAY' or 'Cal-CO-lay' or 'Cal-co-LET'."
The boy looked anxious. It was as if his whole purpose in life was to spell words like calcolet -- and strain to do it.
"Could you use it in a sentence?"

100 MILES EAST OF THE OCEAN IS STILL TOO CLOSE

The phonecall came from out of the blue.
"Good to hear your voice again. They told me you were in town."
"I'm going back to Austin tomorrow," I said.
"Can you believe its been 10 years?"
The past isn't dead -- it isn't even past. -- William Faulkner
Suddenly, we're in the desert -- sitting on the burning sand, with the mean sun pounding us from a cloudless sky. There is a little wind, but it doesn't feel good -- it only serves to blow the sand in our eyes. We're just sitting there Indian-style, face-to-face, staring through each other -- speechless and emotionless. Even the cactus plants around us lack character -- they're the kind with just one trunk -- none have the up-reaching arms you might expect.
All I could do is hum a little Jerry Jeff Walker -- If I could just get off of that L.A. freeway without getting killed or caught . . .

POKER PLAYERS BY THE DRINKS

We're all looking for tells -- here's a strategy that I use: You can tell a lot about a person's poker by the drink in front him or her -- I've listed seven types of players -- based on the drinks -- in increasing order of ability (decreasing order of fishiness.)
BOTTLED WATER
So your opponent has ordered bottled water. His plan is probably to show the world that he has arrived for serious poker, and that nothing can interfere with that. Just watch -- he probably won't smile or talk at all. But his poker is probably lame. He doesn't push much at all, even when the situation calls for it -- you can bet him off most hands. None of this applies if the water was unordered, taken from his own bag -- see below.
IMPORT BEER THAT YOU'VE NEVER HEARD OF
Be careful, though -- there is a small chance that he actually likes the Korean nutmeg kyonga-bishu, and not just drinking it as a poser. That's probably the case if you see him have two or three of them.
SOFT DRINK
Maybe he's just thirsty -- you can't read much into it. You may have to actually watch him play cards to get a feel for his game.
ANYTHING BROUGHT IN HIS BAG
The fact that he has a bag shows planning and preparation for the event. He also plans to be at the table for more than a little while. If the player brings the bag to a bar or casino, and drinks something out of it, move him up two levels, because that shows not only planning, but calculated risk-taking skills and the gumption to make his own rules -- he'll usually set the betting tempo in the few hands he plays.
STRAIGHT WHISKEY
Beware -- this man has come for your money. He is a no-nonsense, right-to-the-point player who goes directly after what he wants.
MILK
Any man who drinks milk at the poker table must be feared. I do it myself a lot. The first time I saw someone drink milk during poker was at Bally's in Vegas about three years ago. He was about 50 or 55, and was doing very well -- we took a break for lunch and ate together and talked about the hands -- he remembered every hand for the previous two hours -- completely. And we talked about New Orleans. And he was pleasant -- and he genuinely wished me well in the afternoon session. Milk was his drink of choice. Whole milk.
BRANDY
This player is just like the straight whiskey guy -- with the added advantage of not getting drunk as fast.

THE MASTER OF PANIC

Whatever superstar comes your way is overrated -- by definition.
The Master of Panic is the best coach in basketball -- that's all there is to it. The Orlando Magic sure mix up some sticky-sweet extraterrestrial candy. Lord Phil Jackson can take all that Buddah-nature and shove it up his ass. Here's a koan for Him: What's the sound of one hand fouling?

THE GOOD LIFE

I was brought up to honor all people and nourish my sense of wonder and curiosity -- and I do.
But when this woman with faded teal polyester and bad hair and a bloody mary became nasty to me at the table tonight in a free pub poker tournament -- what can I do?
Life will give you all the bullshit you choose to honor.
I can honor the polyester and the hair, I guess -- and maybe even the bloody mary -- damn -- I'm curious how drinking a bloody mary at 11pm could possibly be honorable at all. I can honor a lot.
But her criticism of me is unacceptable.
I honor all people. Just because she's human, that doesn't make her a person. Personhood must be earned. I'm curious what the level of that bar is -- I wonder if she's there yet. And when I'm curious about what cards she's holding, I may well look at her and ask her, "What cards are you holding?" That's what I did tonight -- it was the best I can do to satisfy my curiosity.
And the best that she could do is call me a jackass. Well, I truly am a jackass. World class, in fact. She's so right. I live on my own terms -- pretty much -- and because of my lack of attachments and obligations, I don't have to answer to anyone at all, much less some drunken teratogeness sitting across a poker table from me. My freedom is not some curious fluke -- it's a plan. And if I should ever change that plan and get some sort of overseer, be assured that whomever it might be -- they won't need to lose a lot of weight.
Sometimes I see a fat woman and wonder whether the fat is permanent or temporary. I didn't get a straightforward answer when I asked her. I guess I have to be around her long enough to find out, or channel my curiosity elsewhere.

A LITTLE MEMORIAL DAY GOOD LUCK

I got the bad beat jackpot, babies! My 5-high straight flush lost to an 8-high straight flush, but I feel like a million bucks (or at least a few hundred).

TIMELESS VALUES

I met a guy at Qua who holds a game in a suite at the Holiday Inn on hwy 183 about once a month or every six weeks or so. Every player pitches in about $9 or $10 for the nightly suite rental, and there is no rake. This seems like the perfect set-up for a bunch of friends -- but there's one problem --
They come from a different world.
They're not little green people with bug-eyes or anything -- but they're alien nonetheless. I roll in a world where:
1. It does not matter what brand of whatever liquid you drink at poker.
2. It does not matter what you wear to poker.
3. The host sets the rules, or at least knows the rules.
4. An 8:00 tournament begins no later that about 8:25.
-- among other things
But not in that world.
For instance, who considers what sort of watch you wear to be important? Who considers possession of ANY watch to be important? Maybe its the same sort of people who consistently put out free bets like 7 and 11 and 13 -- they almost always wear a watch -- pay attention next time -- they're usually watch-conscious.
It truly is a different crowd at the Holiday Inn. I always go back -- not for the company, but because I've always walked away a little ahead -- and everyone's nice -- I guess -- in their own way.

ANIVERSARY

Twenty-five years ago today, I was at the '84 World's Fair in New Orleans.
I was 11.
That was the day when circumstances forced my parents to explain to me the difference between a streaker (I'd never seen one before then) and a nudist (a concept that I was familiar with through my liberal childhood education).
It had to do with the idea of what we do for attention and what we do out of conviction and and what people do with no thought at all.
It taught me a lot.

POKER AT TONY'S

This is a neat table -- six hyper-aggressive players and me -- sitting under the marble-eyed gaze of a ceramic owl -- perched on the patio's stone pedestal -- imperfectly painted -- with half of its nubby left ear broken off by some move or another from apartment to apartment to apartment to apartment again -- he'd be the most formidable poker opponent -- wise and hard with only an ear and a half for smack.
That bird would surely know what do do with this Q-9.

I surely don't.

BRINGING WEATHER TO LIFE

It's all about demographics.

Over 20% of all televisions tuned to The Weather Channel at any given time have been set there for over three hours.
The Weather Channel has a lable for this demographic -- they call them "weather-involved".

GIVING BACK THROUGH POKER

The woman at the corner of this 1-2 PL Omaha table is fat -- and inexperienced in poker -- or at least in Omaha -- and she isn't paying much attention to anything except her cell phone.
"I don't have a lot of money,"she said.
Some people can be best described as weak -- simply "weak". The idea of strength and fitness is so important. It's the most important thing in life. The people who don't recognize that don't deserve contempt -- but they sure do deserve most everything else that comes their way.
You know, some people actually name their children "charity".
My nut flush lost to her gut shot straight flush draw. That's 56 bucks to charity.

FOUR-WAY STOP AT JUSTIN & WOODROW

I'm headed south--
Stopped--
While noticing the cedar limbs--
Overhanging the road ahead of me--
Swaying in the wind--
Covering & revealing and halfway covering again-
That damn ol' Austin skyline--
Just elaborate enough to fit the definition, but so
small--
that it looks about the same from any angle.

The woman on my left pulled up in an '84 Chevette and stopped at exactly the same time I did. Should I be using any of my poker skills in this situation? It sure feels like a poker situation as I'm looking at her sunglasses that cover her whole little face from forehead to lips -- and um trying to read her. Just go, little girl -- end this awkwardness. Put the pedal to the metal or the plastic or formica or whatever the floorboard of that junkheap is made of -- go -- now -- don't just sit there -- I'm not moving -- you have the right-of-way.
The only one having fun is a grinning, sweaty fat man-- jogging diagonally across our intersection -- grasping a half-eaten peach.