Throughout my life I have never slept well, I can't get to sleep and when I do, waking me up is a tricky feat. This feat is made more difficult by the "yes, I am up", which my sleeping mind manages to say without a hint of drowsiness to whoever is trying to rouse this slumbering bear. Better yet is when my mind deepens the lie by making up an activity such as putting pants on, or even watching the rain through the window. Sleep issues aside, I have actually attended a 10am and a 9am lecture this week. They we mostly introductions, which is lucky as any good book supplier clearly only ships to Lichtenstein, because the suppliers I'm using actually ship via Lichtenstein. Two lectures in and I haven't incurred the hatred of a tutor, this is progress on last year.
I'm in tomorrow at 9am again, presumably because the English department want to ready me for a lifetime of early starts and monotonous trudging through corporate England. Carrying what seems to be a popular stance, I'm actually really looking forwards to this year of university. The workload has increased, but as I did little work last year, I should be fine if I put some effort in. Hopefully the traditional demographic of "1st semester - lots of work, 2nd semester - lots of slacking" won't occur again, but then, as I've read half of one of the books on the reading list, I've already surpassed last year.
It's nice to see the familiar faces again, it's as though the last five months didn't happen, like we were all in hibernation, and now that the hub has finally been finished the rocks have been rolled away from the cave entrances and the stretching begins. It occurred to me the other day (Tuesday) that I have had the same ink cartridge in my pen for two years, which really indicates either the high quality of Parker, or the low quality of me.
My student loan has floated in, and swam straight back out; it's really beginning to sink in how much I need a job. I even questioned paying £12 for a navy t-shirt, that's how stingy I've become, it's like the Masters is anchoring down my bank balance.
I am determined to go back to the gym, it really needs to happen, as I am unfit and quite unwilling to shell out any money for a manbra, or mobra, or whatever label was deemed less emasculating to describe a support for huge man-breasts. If it was me, I'd have named it the WinBra, which is infinitely better than the WonderBra. WonderBra implies awe or reverence from the name, which seems pretentious. WinBra does what it says on the tin (or strap) and simply succeeds.
Somehow the post has descended into inane (note: I did not miss an "s" out of that word) ramblings on male support equipment, but that's always the risk you take when you blog.
Next post will be about Short stories, and finish about domestic terrorism.
Thursday, 29 September 2011
Monday, 19 September 2011
Well If Everyone Else is Doing it, I might as Well Jump Too.
That's right: I'm back - a statement that implies I was here in the first place. It's september, a time for fresh starts, and new haircuts and new pencil cases, none of which I will be doing, as I'm moving into 3rd year with one decent pen and no money to terminate my shaggy mane with.
So what's new? Nope, nobody asked me that question. Nothing is new, I still want to finish my course, I still want to do a masters, but what has changed is that I now need to find £5400 to pay for rent and the masters itself. I haven't yet panicked about this, but must say right now that a quick shuffle around my cardboard box yielded no hidden fortune. It did yield spiders. Lots and lots of spiders. Oh dear God, the spiders.
There is one thing that mildly (and I use that term to sound like less of a prick) irritates me: The number of people who have decided "Hey, I don't know what I'm doing in life, why don't I do a masters so I get another year to think?" Well, that's a great attitude. I mean, some people (me, the prick) want to do a masters to further their chances of getting published (a masters in creative writing, obviously, a maths masters only increases the chance you'll kill yourself) and now the time for people to actually get a job is looming I'm finding my career path oddly busy. Not that I'm worried there will be competition to get on the masters - there wasn't last year, there were free slots - rather I'm annoyed that the second highest academic qualification is being considered because people aren't ready to finish university. Pick a real reason, please.
Moving on from what could be construed as an attack if it applies to you (don't worry, I like you, it's not about you) I still play a little poker, more for fun than an attempt to make any money, and I still procrastinate instead of writing my book. You would think the jealousy of hearing a friend has completed his own book would spur me into a competitive fervor, working day and night so I can scream "EN GARDE" in his face with a red correcting pen, and begin the arms race of who can finish proofreading first. But I haven't. My book is in my head, and whilst it's in my head it is a fine piece of literature. If I allow it a lifetime pass to paper, what if it becomes mulch, catches Syphilis, murders a hooker? I can't have that. I've been planning this book out for 5 years, and although the fine points have changed, the story is much the same.
I will write my book, just not now. For now, I'm more concerned about finishing the year on a 2:1, somehow amassing £5400, and not writing my book. I won't lie and say I'll blog more, because that implies I think somebody cares if I don't, and it also implies that I actually will, which I probably won't.
I'm at war with sleep, I won't let it take me, and it won't release me.
So what's new? Nope, nobody asked me that question. Nothing is new, I still want to finish my course, I still want to do a masters, but what has changed is that I now need to find £5400 to pay for rent and the masters itself. I haven't yet panicked about this, but must say right now that a quick shuffle around my cardboard box yielded no hidden fortune. It did yield spiders. Lots and lots of spiders. Oh dear God, the spiders.
There is one thing that mildly (and I use that term to sound like less of a prick) irritates me: The number of people who have decided "Hey, I don't know what I'm doing in life, why don't I do a masters so I get another year to think?" Well, that's a great attitude. I mean, some people (me, the prick) want to do a masters to further their chances of getting published (a masters in creative writing, obviously, a maths masters only increases the chance you'll kill yourself) and now the time for people to actually get a job is looming I'm finding my career path oddly busy. Not that I'm worried there will be competition to get on the masters - there wasn't last year, there were free slots - rather I'm annoyed that the second highest academic qualification is being considered because people aren't ready to finish university. Pick a real reason, please.
Moving on from what could be construed as an attack if it applies to you (don't worry, I like you, it's not about you) I still play a little poker, more for fun than an attempt to make any money, and I still procrastinate instead of writing my book. You would think the jealousy of hearing a friend has completed his own book would spur me into a competitive fervor, working day and night so I can scream "EN GARDE" in his face with a red correcting pen, and begin the arms race of who can finish proofreading first. But I haven't. My book is in my head, and whilst it's in my head it is a fine piece of literature. If I allow it a lifetime pass to paper, what if it becomes mulch, catches Syphilis, murders a hooker? I can't have that. I've been planning this book out for 5 years, and although the fine points have changed, the story is much the same.
I will write my book, just not now. For now, I'm more concerned about finishing the year on a 2:1, somehow amassing £5400, and not writing my book. I won't lie and say I'll blog more, because that implies I think somebody cares if I don't, and it also implies that I actually will, which I probably won't.
I'm at war with sleep, I won't let it take me, and it won't release me.
Monday, 16 August 2010
Poker Diary - Day 6
Balance: $0
Ashworths wins: 14
Ashworths losses: 3
Ashworths folds: 6
Today is scrappy, it’s like a dogfight over the channel. I’m still getting badbeats, my AA was taken down by QT (he hit a set of tens) but my balance is still the same. I’m weathering the bad beats, trying to stay afloat.
I’m also actually enjoying myself. There’s no disappointment in not making a million, just the fun of still being able to play. A game usually lasts 35 minutes, this one has been going for 49 minutes, I finish 6th – the worst position to finish. But I don’t mind so much, I’m still on $10.
It has gone. My final hand is AT, and the flop is 78T, a player raises, I 3bet, he goes all in, and shows me his 99. Another 2 diamonds flop out and give him the flush.
That’s me done for now, for a few weeks, I’m a bit disgruntled so I’ll go shoot some people on Battlefield, it’s therapeutic, and then I guess I’ll get back to doing useful things, such as auctioning and actually tidying my room.
I spend nine hours playing Battlefield with my friend, it is fun, we stab it other and laugh about it, as insane as that sounds. This will be my last poker diary entry here.
Ashworths wins: 14
Ashworths losses: 3
Ashworths folds: 6
Today is scrappy, it’s like a dogfight over the channel. I’m still getting badbeats, my AA was taken down by QT (he hit a set of tens) but my balance is still the same. I’m weathering the bad beats, trying to stay afloat.
I’m also actually enjoying myself. There’s no disappointment in not making a million, just the fun of still being able to play. A game usually lasts 35 minutes, this one has been going for 49 minutes, I finish 6th – the worst position to finish. But I don’t mind so much, I’m still on $10.
It has gone. My final hand is AT, and the flop is 78T, a player raises, I 3bet, he goes all in, and shows me his 99. Another 2 diamonds flop out and give him the flush.
That’s me done for now, for a few weeks, I’m a bit disgruntled so I’ll go shoot some people on Battlefield, it’s therapeutic, and then I guess I’ll get back to doing useful things, such as auctioning and actually tidying my room.
I spend nine hours playing Battlefield with my friend, it is fun, we stab it other and laugh about it, as insane as that sounds. This will be my last poker diary entry here.
Saturday, 14 August 2010
Poker Diary - Day 5
Balance: $10
Ashworths wins: 12
Ashworths losses: 3
Ashworths folds: 5
Two wins, two losses, irritating that my AK suited is taken down by 77 after my AA was beat by 56. I’ve had AA cracked twice. That’s just damn unlucky. Tilting, I enter two $20 tournaments, I’m annoyed, I shouldn’t do this, it’s a very bad idea, as it’s all of my bankroll on two tournaments, and I’m still going to be annoyed if I only win one. There is a moment of fear as I try and bluff with AT, it is called, a King rolls out, I raise all in and am called. The guy has A9 and is going for the flush draw, which miraculously, he does not hit. The moment of fear is replaced by cheering and whoops of relief: I should have been knocked out by rights.
The Poker Gods right the wrong by knocking me out 6th with AJ against KT, A5T flop, K river.
I melt back into my book, and play some less insane tables, register for the Edinburgh qualifier qualifier (to qualify for the actual qualifier, which usually costs £108 and my qualifier to play in the £108 costs £5) and play a couple of $10 games, with a fresh grin as the Ashworths earn me another set of blinds.
All is lost, I played too big, and now it’s gone.
I throw another £16 onto it, hoping not to tilt and resolving not to play in the $20 games, the % of my total bankroll is too high. My Dad pisses me off more by saying, in a petulant tone “aw you swore, you’re a swearer” after I claim that an A8 hitting a straight against my JK is “fucking bullshit”. There’s always Edinburgh.
Nope, after 2 hours, I am knocked out of Edinburgh qualifiers with QKsuited and the flop as QQA, with the chipleader to roll over AA upon calling my all-in. C’est la vie. I resume normal tournaments, $5. I do not do well. My final $10 goes into a tournament where I am finally rewarded with AA and it is cracked by 99. 3/4 Aces have been cracked today. I am sickened.
I add more money. This is not a good day. On the bright side, I have finally got my USB Poker chip in the mail, it’s very pretty, well worth my investment of nearly a hundred pounds. I don’t see poker as a worthwhile investment, I see it as a challenge now, the bad luck taunts me, and I hug the tilt lovingly.
My 99 is beat my 76 preflop. I am out.
I haven’t had a win in a while, I don’t mind, I just feel really unlucky, like nothing can win. Anytime I am called with an all-in, I minimise the window. I can’t watch more unluckiness unfold. I win whilst sat out, best way really.
Another bad out makes me angry, two pair, he calls, hits two hearts giving him a flush. Dis-fucking-graceful. More and more. I can’t win fuck all and I’m getting sick of it. I have $5 left. I am not happy one bit. The cards hate me today.
I enter one last tournament. A final $5 tournament – this is the last of my money, I have gone through my $50 balance and another £30 today. It’s not like I’ve been playing that badly, just have been getting incredibly bad beats. If I lose now I will stop for a week or two. Go back to Battlefield and put on hiatus my dreams of paying off my overdraft or as a very wise person suggested; actually do something useful such as write my book.
Finally I win where I should have – my JJ beats a TT (ten ten), putting me comfortably into the lead, I have $10, and will finish tonight on it. Tomorrow I will try to survive.
Ashworths wins: 12
Ashworths losses: 3
Ashworths folds: 5
Two wins, two losses, irritating that my AK suited is taken down by 77 after my AA was beat by 56. I’ve had AA cracked twice. That’s just damn unlucky. Tilting, I enter two $20 tournaments, I’m annoyed, I shouldn’t do this, it’s a very bad idea, as it’s all of my bankroll on two tournaments, and I’m still going to be annoyed if I only win one. There is a moment of fear as I try and bluff with AT, it is called, a King rolls out, I raise all in and am called. The guy has A9 and is going for the flush draw, which miraculously, he does not hit. The moment of fear is replaced by cheering and whoops of relief: I should have been knocked out by rights.
The Poker Gods right the wrong by knocking me out 6th with AJ against KT, A5T flop, K river.
I melt back into my book, and play some less insane tables, register for the Edinburgh qualifier qualifier (to qualify for the actual qualifier, which usually costs £108 and my qualifier to play in the £108 costs £5) and play a couple of $10 games, with a fresh grin as the Ashworths earn me another set of blinds.
All is lost, I played too big, and now it’s gone.
I throw another £16 onto it, hoping not to tilt and resolving not to play in the $20 games, the % of my total bankroll is too high. My Dad pisses me off more by saying, in a petulant tone “aw you swore, you’re a swearer” after I claim that an A8 hitting a straight against my JK is “fucking bullshit”. There’s always Edinburgh.
Nope, after 2 hours, I am knocked out of Edinburgh qualifiers with QKsuited and the flop as QQA, with the chipleader to roll over AA upon calling my all-in. C’est la vie. I resume normal tournaments, $5. I do not do well. My final $10 goes into a tournament where I am finally rewarded with AA and it is cracked by 99. 3/4 Aces have been cracked today. I am sickened.
I add more money. This is not a good day. On the bright side, I have finally got my USB Poker chip in the mail, it’s very pretty, well worth my investment of nearly a hundred pounds. I don’t see poker as a worthwhile investment, I see it as a challenge now, the bad luck taunts me, and I hug the tilt lovingly.
My 99 is beat my 76 preflop. I am out.
I haven’t had a win in a while, I don’t mind, I just feel really unlucky, like nothing can win. Anytime I am called with an all-in, I minimise the window. I can’t watch more unluckiness unfold. I win whilst sat out, best way really.
Another bad out makes me angry, two pair, he calls, hits two hearts giving him a flush. Dis-fucking-graceful. More and more. I can’t win fuck all and I’m getting sick of it. I have $5 left. I am not happy one bit. The cards hate me today.
I enter one last tournament. A final $5 tournament – this is the last of my money, I have gone through my $50 balance and another £30 today. It’s not like I’ve been playing that badly, just have been getting incredibly bad beats. If I lose now I will stop for a week or two. Go back to Battlefield and put on hiatus my dreams of paying off my overdraft or as a very wise person suggested; actually do something useful such as write my book.
Finally I win where I should have – my JJ beats a TT (ten ten), putting me comfortably into the lead, I have $10, and will finish tonight on it. Tomorrow I will try to survive.
Friday, 13 August 2010
Poker Diary - Day 4
Balance: $50
Ashworths wins: 8
Ashworths losses: 2
Ashworths folds: 2
I’m stuck breaking even, with my time ticking. I’m making the occasional poor call surrounded by decent play, and it’s giving me evens. Until I’m taken down by KT against my weak A5suited shortstacked, now it might be a bit choppy. Especially as my first Ashworths loss hits in, the guy has pocket Kings, I can’t fight that even after hitting a pair on the flop.
Coren is like therapy; she’s having a terrible time. It’s like being shot in the leg and somebody telling you about how they’ve been shot three times in both legs.
As I set up the laptop in the kitchen so I can cook tea and play poker, I finally win a single $10 tournament and go above $30 for the first time - $39 to be precise.
I enter another tournament and start cooking my Bacon and Mushoom Carbonara, suits me, I like being distracted – not too distracted, but distracted. Only a $5 tournament as I want to stay above $30. Tea is delicious, I’ve made a “good’un” and defeat in the next $5 after winning the one during tea does not damage my happiness. $38, tomorrow I go for $80, today I’m going to train in mixed martial arts: I have my priorities set, they just revolve around cagefighting and poker – uncharacteristically manly.
On a side note, I was chopping garlic and a decent-ish hand (A9) came up and I ended up having to move the touchpad mouse with my nose to raise and steal the blind. Who says men can’t multitask?
Well I did my MMA and loved it, my right shin is fucked and my eye and right temple are a bit red but in a masochistic way, the pain proves I’ve worked hard, and I savour it. After a bath where I grab my computer speakers, an extension cord, and an ipod; thus creating the best bath experience I’ve ever had, I get dried, dressed and open up PokerStars, win my first tournament while I eat some of the reheated meal I made earlier, it’s tasty. Two more tournaments; $10 each, I’m feeling lucky. I am not so lucky, I lose one, A6suited versus JK. He hits a straight. Ah well, I win the other tournament. Evens.
Another two tournaments; immediately knocked out with JJ against AA, down to one, fighting for evens. Evens is attained, I enter one. If I lose, I lose, if I win, I win. There is no evens, I prefer these stakes. There are three short stacks and one more to lose before I win, I sit patiently, and read Vicky Coren. End up winning, it’s 4am already, and tomorrow, I will try to qualify for the UKIPT – UK & Ireland Poker Tour, or qualify for the game to qualify. You get the gist.
Ashworths wins: 8
Ashworths losses: 2
Ashworths folds: 2
I’m stuck breaking even, with my time ticking. I’m making the occasional poor call surrounded by decent play, and it’s giving me evens. Until I’m taken down by KT against my weak A5suited shortstacked, now it might be a bit choppy. Especially as my first Ashworths loss hits in, the guy has pocket Kings, I can’t fight that even after hitting a pair on the flop.
Coren is like therapy; she’s having a terrible time. It’s like being shot in the leg and somebody telling you about how they’ve been shot three times in both legs.
As I set up the laptop in the kitchen so I can cook tea and play poker, I finally win a single $10 tournament and go above $30 for the first time - $39 to be precise.
I enter another tournament and start cooking my Bacon and Mushoom Carbonara, suits me, I like being distracted – not too distracted, but distracted. Only a $5 tournament as I want to stay above $30. Tea is delicious, I’ve made a “good’un” and defeat in the next $5 after winning the one during tea does not damage my happiness. $38, tomorrow I go for $80, today I’m going to train in mixed martial arts: I have my priorities set, they just revolve around cagefighting and poker – uncharacteristically manly.
On a side note, I was chopping garlic and a decent-ish hand (A9) came up and I ended up having to move the touchpad mouse with my nose to raise and steal the blind. Who says men can’t multitask?
Well I did my MMA and loved it, my right shin is fucked and my eye and right temple are a bit red but in a masochistic way, the pain proves I’ve worked hard, and I savour it. After a bath where I grab my computer speakers, an extension cord, and an ipod; thus creating the best bath experience I’ve ever had, I get dried, dressed and open up PokerStars, win my first tournament while I eat some of the reheated meal I made earlier, it’s tasty. Two more tournaments; $10 each, I’m feeling lucky. I am not so lucky, I lose one, A6suited versus JK. He hits a straight. Ah well, I win the other tournament. Evens.
Another two tournaments; immediately knocked out with JJ against AA, down to one, fighting for evens. Evens is attained, I enter one. If I lose, I lose, if I win, I win. There is no evens, I prefer these stakes. There are three short stacks and one more to lose before I win, I sit patiently, and read Vicky Coren. End up winning, it’s 4am already, and tomorrow, I will try to qualify for the UKIPT – UK & Ireland Poker Tour, or qualify for the game to qualify. You get the gist.
Thursday, 12 August 2010
Poker Diary - Day 3
I had a nice day, a very nice day, but it’s midnight now, I’m a bit tired, and I finally have the money to play a bit of poker. I throw £20 on after checking my auctions on eBay – slightly concerned that my “One Man Hug – Pick up only” joke auction has a watcher – and signing on to Facebook, and start a couple of $5 tournaments. The trick that I use is to play two tournaments, and if I’m playing on form, I’ll always win at least one, meaning I never lose per hour. Now I just need to get on form.
There’s a hand I play that in my brother’s poker games on a Friday we’d refer to as the Ashworths. The Ashworths is 79; not a good hand, but seems to win at least 50% of the time. Whenever I get the Ashworths (named after a player called Graham Ashworth who’d play them every time) I use them very aggressively, raising until the player folds, or unless he presents an actual hand. I love the Ashworths, they are a crazy hand.
Meanwhile, I go out of a tournament my QA not hitting against 88, c’est la vie. If I win the other tournament I’ll be 40cents down, mostly even. Very presentable. I will distract myself with Buzzcocks. The thing about breaking even is, I like playing, so I don’t mind not gaining, it’s better than losing. Also, you get frequent player points, of which you get around two per tournament, they can be converted into prizes like USBs and hoodies, or at least that’s the level I’m at, they do cars and plasma screen TVs too but they cost more points than I’ll get in 4 years.
Ah, my lower pockets just got beat by QA; I’m seeing a pattern emerging. Best not to think negative. QA for me, I bet big and stole the blind.
Another QA for me, out of position, stack not too healthy, I raise it big and am called by a lower stack, he has 77, I hit nothing on the flop and it looks grim, and then a bullet flies out, only a Kevlar seven can save him, and he doesn’t find it. Boom. That felt good.
That’s a win! It means so little to my balance, but to me it means a lot. I’ll play on now until I finish for the night, in a couple of hours; expect a head in hands update tomorrow.
There’s a hand I play that in my brother’s poker games on a Friday we’d refer to as the Ashworths. The Ashworths is 79; not a good hand, but seems to win at least 50% of the time. Whenever I get the Ashworths (named after a player called Graham Ashworth who’d play them every time) I use them very aggressively, raising until the player folds, or unless he presents an actual hand. I love the Ashworths, they are a crazy hand.
Meanwhile, I go out of a tournament my QA not hitting against 88, c’est la vie. If I win the other tournament I’ll be 40cents down, mostly even. Very presentable. I will distract myself with Buzzcocks. The thing about breaking even is, I like playing, so I don’t mind not gaining, it’s better than losing. Also, you get frequent player points, of which you get around two per tournament, they can be converted into prizes like USBs and hoodies, or at least that’s the level I’m at, they do cars and plasma screen TVs too but they cost more points than I’ll get in 4 years.
Ah, my lower pockets just got beat by QA; I’m seeing a pattern emerging. Best not to think negative. QA for me, I bet big and stole the blind.
Another QA for me, out of position, stack not too healthy, I raise it big and am called by a lower stack, he has 77, I hit nothing on the flop and it looks grim, and then a bullet flies out, only a Kevlar seven can save him, and he doesn’t find it. Boom. That felt good.
That’s a win! It means so little to my balance, but to me it means a lot. I’ll play on now until I finish for the night, in a couple of hours; expect a head in hands update tomorrow.
Wednesday, 11 August 2010
Poker Diary - Day 2
I don’t sleep well, not without Nightol anyway, my mind likes to think, and it takes a while to circumnavigate that issue. Eventually, we negotiated and after two hours lying in bed, I popped a Nightol and told my brain to go fuck itself.
There’s a rotation of thoughts – mixed martial arts, how I’d block, duck, weave, try a move (which never happens the way I plan it) and then there’s poker, how I’d block, duck, weave, try a move (which also never happens the way I plan it) as well as various bits of my social life and other things. After a while the Nightol kicks in and I have some more fucked up dreams, this time about cannibalism. I now am wary of a large man with close to his skin purple hair and little neck. If he turns up – shit’s going down.
Anyway, that’s off topic. Day two. I wake up quite late – 2pm and have a list of things to do around the house, so I go to it. My security deposit still isn’t in, so no poker, but I still think about it as I put some more auctions on eBay, about how this time I will be patient, reserved, bide my time, don’t make any unnecessary raises. It’s a mantra I should have tattooed on my arm.
I cook the tea, have a quick shower and go to Cobra Martial Arts Association (CMAA), where for an hour and a half I am choked, punched and kicked – and pay to do so. Later, I had a couple of mashed up eggs. A relatively poker free day: due to a relatively money free day.
There’s a rotation of thoughts – mixed martial arts, how I’d block, duck, weave, try a move (which never happens the way I plan it) and then there’s poker, how I’d block, duck, weave, try a move (which also never happens the way I plan it) as well as various bits of my social life and other things. After a while the Nightol kicks in and I have some more fucked up dreams, this time about cannibalism. I now am wary of a large man with close to his skin purple hair and little neck. If he turns up – shit’s going down.
Anyway, that’s off topic. Day two. I wake up quite late – 2pm and have a list of things to do around the house, so I go to it. My security deposit still isn’t in, so no poker, but I still think about it as I put some more auctions on eBay, about how this time I will be patient, reserved, bide my time, don’t make any unnecessary raises. It’s a mantra I should have tattooed on my arm.
I cook the tea, have a quick shower and go to Cobra Martial Arts Association (CMAA), where for an hour and a half I am choked, punched and kicked – and pay to do so. Later, I had a couple of mashed up eggs. A relatively poker free day: due to a relatively money free day.
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