My application was accepted, and I am now a twitizen!
My twitter name is TheTommyAngelo. See you there!
(Some guy in Germany is “TommyAngelo” on twitter, or I’d have take that name. Turns out he named himself after this guy.)
My application was accepted, and I am now a twitizen!
My twitter name is TheTommyAngelo. See you there!
(Some guy in Germany is “TommyAngelo” on twitter, or I’d have take that name. Turns out he named himself after this guy.)
Just got back from a week-long orgy of food, bocce, music, talking, listening, and laughing that could technically be called a “family reunion” except that there’s no “re.” It’s just a union.
At the annual Angelo love fest, I usually hear about 20 jokes and remember none. As an indicator of just how much sharper my mind has become over the last few years, I managed to bring one tiny one home with me. It’s very short. Ready?
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I started playing gin a few years after I had become entrenched in the Columbus poker scene. One night I’m sitting around before the poker game, playing gin, and Hanz walks in. Hanz was this ancient Jewish guy. He had some great lines. They all had a certain Hanziness to them. For example, at the end of a hand, when a player gets caught bluffing, lots of times you’ll hear them say, “I got nothing.” Anytime Hanzie heard someone say that at the end of a hand, he would always say, “You got nutting? You can sleep wid my wife!”
I had recently started playing gin, and I’m sitting there playing, and Hanzie walks in. He looks at me real surprised.
“Since when did you start playing gin?”
There was something pushy about his tone, so I reacted accordingly. “I been playing a little while. What’s the big deal?”
“I’m just surprised, that’s all.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well,” he said. “I just can’t believe you would play a game where you can’t fold.”
Many of my conversations with my buddy Alex begin similarly:
Hi. Whatsup. How you doing. Henry Poole Is Here divx
It doesn’t matter who starts the initial hellos. All that matters is who ends them. If I start talking next, the conversation can start anywhere and go anywhere. If Alex starts talking next, it goes like this:
HIM: … sigh… Carry on Camping download buy The Mexican
Trois 3: The Escort psp I got my money in with the best of it 4 out of the last 5 big pots, and lost them all but one.
ME: So how much are you ahead?
See, he always starts out with a negative report of some kind. Every single time. When he tells me about a hand, it’s always a hand he lost. And when it comes to patterns in the data, it’s like this: He might be in the middle of his best session of the year, and he will extract losing stats. Alex can change black into red.
Sometimes, seriously though, its hurts to hear it. He really gets himself worked up over absolutely nothing. And the sick part is, he knows it. He knows it’s 100% mind clatter. He knows he can … poof The Hunchback of Notre Dame II rip Funny Money buy
One day I was thinking about Alex and I thought man it’d be nice if I could come up with a gimmick or something that worked like a faucet. If only I could turn off the flow of sewage going through his mind and out his mouth, just for a few seconds now and then. Hmmm. Okay! I have it! What is the source of his suffering? It’s the thinking he does about bits of negative cash flow. So I’ll just offer him positive cash flow, to think about positive cash flow! I’ll pay him money every time he tells me about a hand he won. This is brilliant! And it’s guaranteed to work. There is no way he can be in the middle of telling me about a pot he won, while at exactly the same time be dwelling in misery and woe over a pot he lost.
Just one problem. It wouldn’t work. Well, it wouldn’t work at a price that I was willing to pay. Which is entirely the point of all this. How many dollars would it take to get Alex to tell a good win story? I was in position to force him to put a price on his addiction to his pain.
What I really wanted to do, besides tighten the faucet if possible, was to show him what he already knows – that he’s a total fucking moron for suffering like he does.
So here’s the deal I offered.
“Hey Alex.”
“What.”
“I’m going to make you an offer you can’t refuse.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“Every time you tell me about a hand you’ve won, I will pay you $10.”
::: suspicious silence from alex ::: Watership Down movie Imagine That rip
I continued on…
“And there’s more. You can just tell the hands to my voice mail. As many as you want. And you can tell them real fast, like, “I had pocket aces and won.” That would be a whole hand.”
At this point, a frenzy was mounting, as we both realized how completely Alex was in the process of being had.
“And, if you want, you can just make up the hands. You don’t even have to have played them. The bottom line is – for every hand you tell me about that ends with you winning the pot, I will pay you $10. If you tell me 100 hands, I will pay you $1,000 cash.”
It was a couple months ago that I made this offer. I’m still even.
About once a month or so, when I’m sitting on my meditation bench in the morning, my hands get big. They get, like, really big. Approximately house sized. And sensation seems to subside, except that I am keenly aware of my hands, and everything else. My whole body gets big too, sometimes bigger than a house, but no matter how big my body gets, my hands seem to remain bigger than my body. All the while my focus is on every little scrap of breath, while at the same time it’s on everything else too, including the occasional thought that might begin to pop up, but they hardly have a chance of growing in this environment. It’s all quite something. The borders between me and not me become less defined. It’s not an easy place to describe, or to arrive at, but quite simple and easy to reside there once there.
Before last week, my favorite bumper sticker was:
Atheists are beyond belief.
That one has held the top spot for something like 15 years. And then I heard this one, in a talk Jon Kabat-Zinn gave to a room full of Google employees. (You can see the whole talk on YouTube.) Here’s the saying…
Meditation: It’s not what you think.
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