I Used to Play Poker

I used to play poker.

These days? I try to clear bonuses that I never succeed at, and lose more than I'd gain anyway.

I sit at a real desk and play at a virtual table, but don't actually apply anything that could be called sense. I play the cards I see in front of me, ignoring the notes I've taken on those around me.

I let a known bluffer chase me off on the river just because I don't have a hand, even though my non-hand is better than his missed flush.

In short, I still don't really care. And my reduced play time shows it.

Perhaps as the days grow shorter and colder up here in the Great White North (note: not that white, not that north, but still great), I'll find myself drawn to it. But if it wasn't for the fact I'm filling my evenings with TIFF films these days, I'd be more inclined to watch some DVDs, play some video games, or read a book or 17. Somehow, those all seem like nobler pursuits.

I think I need to stare down an MTT with focus and determination and actually go deep in the fucker to get the groove back. I think I've forgotten what it's like to win, and to feel the adrenaline of putting it all on the line and caring about it.

Because dammit, I want to be in the zone come December.