Suitedjustice's Ongoing Mid-life Crisis
I woke up in the middle of choking to death again; though to be accurate, it was towards the end of the process--woke up right away in a white hot panic with black spots of permanent unconsciousness swooping in across both sides of my vision.
Calm yourself, was the first important step. My lungs were soaked, steeped in the things that belonged only in my stomach, and locked up tight. My air passage was blocked and burning with bile and hydrochloric acid. No, I don't have asthma. I have a drinking problem.
Spoiler
Though, now that I think about it, is that inhaler thing any good? Maybe I'll try a hit sometime, just to see.
This was last Friday, just a few hours after I'd quit my office job of twelve years to take a shot at playing poker for a living out West in Nevada. This will not be my first shot at gambling for a living; although I have only tried something like this once before, many years ago.
Around the turn of the century I quit college most of the way through my senior year and I moved out to Las Vegas for 8 years. My experiences were somewhat of interest: rampant drunkenness, a stolen lab animal, solid card counting, North Korean meth, time spent with Mormons, advantage slot grinding, a cowardly pass on an FBI Most Wanted bounty, facing contempt of court charges, and dressing up as Albus Dumbledore. You can find that in my BBV thread.
[U][url]https://forumserver.twoplustwo.c...[/U][/URL] .
That thread held up pretty well in BBV, which is not nothing.
Starting meditative relaxation can be problematic when you're dying from choking on your own puke. I sat up straight, blind from the black splotches that had slapped away the weak light of the kitchen stove. I dropped my shoulders, relaxed my chest and upper arms, and then, projecting calm with all my might, I tried my throat. I pictured my lungs and throat opening up just a tiny passage, for just a little air to go by--something to get me started. And they did, untethering just the smallest little rivulet of air, and it made the most terrifying sound as it went through. It always does.
Whatever you've heard from actors pretending to gasp after being choked, the reality is worse. At least no one was with me this time. When that's been the case, the other person has invariably freaked the **** out when they've heard my gasping and choking routine, which only adds the burden of myself having to reassure them through nodding and non-frantic gestures, so that they won't call 911, as I hate the idea of calling the cops.
April 13th of this year was 14 months without me having a drink. During that long stretch I had honestly forgotten why I'd quit. That's right, I had completely purged from my recall the years of nighttime memories of myself almost choking to death, this happening once or twice every couple of weeks on average. Now, the terrifying night wakeups didn't happen even once during the 14 dry months. But 3 weeks back into drinking--oh yeah--there was that thing, wasn't there?.
Now, there was something else I'd forgotten about. And that's the Double Tap. The Double Tap happens when I don't force my drunk and tired and traumatized self to remain awake for a good two or three hours after a choking incident. If I fall back asleep before then, I wake up choking to death all over again. And sure enough, that happened last Friday, and I had to save myself again.
So on Saturday I jumped back on the waggy, and Cinco de Mayo is now my new anniversary date, and that's really enough about drinking. I'm not here to write about that business. I should have been done with it; and now I am.
My flight leaves for Reno in a few hours, and I'll be out there for the next 3 weeks scouting out the live poker games in the city. If I like it, that's where I'm moving to.
Proof that the deer flies are controlling your mind. Part of their plan to wreck vengeance. The first sign was their refusal to mistake you for Bullwinkle.
I hate deeflies. Their bite really hurts and is really distinctive. As soon as you feel the sting, you say to yourself, "****ing deerfly!"
Then there's the next level up: horseflies. Those bastards hurt; maybe not as much as a bee sting, but they definitely get your attention.
Rolling Stone's 467th Greatest Album of All Time: BLACKsummers’night by Maxwell (2009)
This album is not to be confused with Maxwell's blackSUMMERS'night from 2016, so I will endeavor to avoid ranting about either of these titles in all-caps.
So oh great, another album from an unknown-to-me R&B crooner from an era when I'd completely stopped paying attention to new music. Well, here I am to atone for that ignorance.
Spoiler
Gerald Maxwell Rivera, aka Maxwell, is a singer, songwriter and producer who is close to my age. He has been very successful in the business for the last 30 years, so he doesn't need me to hype his goods.
And that is a good thing, because I won't. This genre of music is not for me. I don't own a high-fidelity stereo system on which I can put Maxwell's smooth love songs in order to charm various ladies into spending various nights with me in the throes of passionate lovemaking.
But I get it. I was young, once. And anything that brings more love and affection into the world is a welcome addition. So I listened; twice, as is my rule, and I tried to find some things that I liked.
"Bad Habits" is the first track on the album and one of its popular singles, but upon seeing the title, I shuddered to think that I'd be exposing myself to the original version of Ed Sheeran's insipid, massively overplayed, thrice-cussed commercial earworm.
Fortunately, this song is nothing like Sheeran's, so that was nice.
The singing is fine—Maxwell is a talented crooner with excellent pipes—but I enjoyed the jazzy outro more than the crooning. The YouTube video title bears the suffix of "(uncut)", so I might guess that the radio single cuts out the instrumental end of the song, which is the part I like the most.
"Help Somebody" is a nice departure from the other love songs and sexy mood-setters on the album, and it has a soulful old-school 70s horn section and R&B cadence and feel to it that I like a lot.
Rolling Stone Says:
Maxwell was a successful Nineties neo-soul crooner who went on an eight-year hiatus between 2001’s Now and this 2009 release. BLACKSummers’night betrays no anxiety about the time off; in fact, it ranks among the great comeback records. Maxwell sang about post-breakup desperation as he navigated plush, complicated grooves with jazz players like Keyon Harrold and Derrick Hodge giving his arrangements extra zip.
I agree that the music is a step up from the standard modern minimalist R&B fare. And while I'm not the biggest fan of jazz, I can appreciate it in moderate doses.
Then there's the next level up: horseflies. Those bastards hurt; maybe not as much as a bee sting, but they definitely get your attention.
To me, horsefly bites are as painful as bee stings, but not as bad as yellow jackets. I wonder if kids still play outside. There may be a whole generation that has no idea what we are rambling on about.
To me, horsefly bites are as painful as bee stings, but not as bad as yellow jackets. I wonder if kids still play outside. There may be a whole generation that has no idea what we are rambling on about.
It seems like there are fewer insects in the woods now then when I was a kid. I thought that it may be due to the spraying we do for mosquitos nowadays, but then I found [u]this cllip[/u] from the 40s of neighborhoods (and people) being heavily sprayed with DDT.
So it's probably that I don't go out into the woods nearly as often as I did when I was young.
Spoiler
Ticks are still plentiful, though it seems.
Sweatercunny's Revenge
My Jeep was in the shop Wednesday and part of Thursday. Part of the rubber sheet gasket that protects the shifter console from having stuff fall into it fell itself into the console,
Spoiler
and I had trouble putting the Jeep into park, which is problematic, as you can't turn the vehicle off, if it's not in park or neutral.
The shop did nothing; their parts distributor was a victim of a ransomware attack and couldn't tell them if a new rubber sheet gasket was available or not, so I have the Jeep back until the ransomware attack is resolved. The shift works okay for now, but for how long? That rubber detritus is still down in there.
So yesterday, while I was sitting around waiting for news of my Jeep, two houseflies got into my apartment. Instead of mindlessly swatting them, I put in the effort and caught them and tossed them both out unharmed.
I got my Jeep back and headed to the casino for a short session, hoping that the Buddha would smile upon me for forgoing murder earlier in the day. Instead, Dame Fortune laughed in my face. Dame Fortune cares not for questions of morality, but only for the relentless machinery of chance.
My poker session was breakeven and unremarkable. When I'd finished with that, I started checking the Ultimate X machines, and I found a lot of plays. Specifically, I found some very rare big money plays on the Bonus Streak variant of Ultimate X. That version is heavily monitored by a slot grinder whom I call Sweatercunny. He loves Bonus Streak, and he usually pops in to check on them every few hours.
But Sweatercunny was nowhere to be found yesterday, so I had the big money plays all to myself, and I whiffed on all of them, quite badly.
MGM Springfield $1/$2 poker: 4 hours
(-$1.00)
MGM Springfield Slots: 3 hours
(-$176.30)
2024 Running Poker Total: 294 hours, +$4386.00
2024 Running Slot Total: 156 hours, +$6022.74
2024 Grand Total: 447 hours, +$10408.74
Always kill house flies and laugh while doing so. Swat them into mush, cursing and swearing all the while. Genuine hatred cleanses the soul. Think of it as finally beating the loud mouthed blow hard at the poker table.
Don't worry about the rubber bits, the gears will grind 'em right up. 😉
So yesterday, while I was sitting around waiting for news of my Jeep, two houseflies got into my apartment. Instead of mindlessly swatting them, I put in the effort and caught them and tossed them both out unharmed.
I got my Jeep back and headed to the casino for a short session, hoping that the Buddha would smile upon me for forgoing murder earlier in the day. Instead, Dame Fortune laughed in my face. Dame Fortune cares not for questions of morality, but only for the relentless machinery of chan
Think of it positively : if you had chosen another path and killed those houseflies, perhaps you would of been down a further 500-1k... 😉
Always kill house flies and laugh while doing so. Swat them into mush, cursing and swearing all the while. Genuine hatred cleanses the soul. Think of it as finally beating the loud mouthed blow hard at the poker table.
I think my lifetime kill count on houseflies is way above average, so I'm retiring. I'll not be a flyswatter any more.
Wasps, on the other hand, aren't going to live very long if they get into my apartment. I can at least conjure something of a self defense plea in those cases.
Spoiler
I just watched this little gem of a movie a few days ago.
Think of it positively : if you had chosen another path and killed those houseflies, perhaps you would of been down a further 500-1k... 😉
Terry Pratchett called those inflection points the Trousers of Time.
Somehow when I was young (10-11 yo), I used to crush bumblebees with my bare feet.
Now I wouldn't approach them with boots.
Yesterday, I felt that I was done with flies and other insects as a writing topic. It seemed to me that I had properly exhausted the subject, and I was ready to move on. It turns out that the bugs were not quite finished with me.
I drove down to New London for a funeral/celebration of life for Leandra, who was my friend Will's stepmother. Several of the speakers at the event talked about Leandra's love for animals of all kinds.
One speaker told a story about helping Leandra open up her summer cabin, and how the two of them encountered 40 or 50 live houseflies buzzing around the kitchen. Leandra wouldn't let the speaker kill any of those flies. Instead, they had to very laboriously escort them out.
When they were finally finished clearing the place, the speaker stepped out of the house for some air, only to find herself suddenly encompassed by a whirling column of dozens and dozens of houseflies, all rotating around her in the same counterclockwise direction, in tight spirals.
Just as quickly as they'd arrived, the flies all suddenly flew straight up into the air and disappeared completely into the bright sky. I sat and listened to this story with my mouth agape. Fortunately, no flies flew in.
After the event, i stopped at Mohegan Sun for a quick slot sweep. I think I've already mentioned that Mohegan also appears to have an active Asian Slot Syndicate. It makes me wonder if they and the MGM gang are two branches from the same regional operation, but it's not something that I'm going to be particularly nosy about.
Mohegan Sun Slots: 2 hours
+$93.80
2024 Running Poker Total: 294 hours, +$4386.00
2024 Running Slot Total: 158 hours, +$6116.54
2024 Grand Total: 452 hours, +$10502.54
When I go do 10-20 day Vipassana retreats, we all must follow the Buddhist precepts, one of them being "I shall not kill", even God damn mosquitoes 🙄 I do respect the precept though during my stay there, even if some mosquitoes in Argentina carry dengue. Disclaimer
Spoiler
I f***ing kill them once out of the meditation centre though 😉
Can you get the key out of your jeep when it's not in park?
Does it even have a key?
Don't try to outguess Dame Chance. You will only end up astounded by her cruelty.
When I go do 10-20 day Vipassana retreats, we all must follow the Buddhist precepts, one of them being "I shall not kill", even God damn mosquitoes 🙄 I do respect the precept though during my stay there, even if some mosquitoes in Argentina carry dengue. Disclaimer
Spoiler
I f***ing kill them once out of the meditation centre though 😉
I think we can use self defense as an excuse when it comes to killing mosquitoes.
From the Wiki:
Not sure about those lowball numbers from the BBC news, though. Those are rookie numbers.
Can you get the key out of your jeep when it's not in park?
Does it even have a key?
Don't try to outguess Dame Chance. You will only end up astounded by her cruelty.
The Jeep has an old fashioned key that can only be turned to the off position and pulled out if the vehicle is in Park or Neutral.
You could stall the old manual transmission rigs in gear very easily, but you'd have to get someone to pull wires or plugs from the engine side to shut down a vehicle with an automatic transmission like mine, when stuck in drive or reverse.
once a jeep is out of park and running should a twisted metal object still be considered key?
Many things can be keys if you're clever enough.
A shitty day for results, but a good day for mindset...I called down a serial bluffer on a paired board with a marginal bluffcatcher in my hand, and he showed me the goods. I don't think that I had enough criteria for calling down in that spot beyond "no way he has it here," so I played the hand poorly, and it nearly tilted me, but I got a handle on it fairly quickly, and I did not ragequit.
I picked up a large number of starting hands, and I lost on most of them postflop. At one point, I opened or raised 6 hands in a row, which is quite unusual for me, and the regs at the table must have thought that I was tilting, but I was not. All 6 hands were legitimate starters.
Back at it again tomorrow.
MGM Springfield $1/$2 poker: 8 hours
(-$398.00)
MGM Springfield Slots: 3 hours
(-$57.50)
2024 Running Poker Total: 302 hours, +$3988.00.00
2024 Running Slot Total: 161 hours, +$6059.04
2024 Grand Total: 463 hours, +$10047.04
Freshwater Snails?
Humans need to up their game and start slaughtering other humans in more significant numbers. We canÂ’t even keep up with mosquitoes. ThatÂ’s pathetic.
How are mosquitoes ever killing several hundreds of thousands humans per year? Allergies? They carry mortal diseases?
I don't get it.
I'm of the opinion that mosquitoes are perpetrators in that they bite us without our consent and infect us with Malaria and Dengue and West Nile and Yellow Fever and all the other diseases that kill us.
Freshwater snails, on the other hand, are merely co-victims with us, sharing the water in which people bathe and wash, and the various freshwater parasitic worms that infect and kill us both. If they were capable of assigning blame, the snails could equally blame us for attracting the worms.
How are mosquitoes ever killing several hundreds of thousands humans per year? Allergies? They carry mortal diseases?
I don't get it.
The diseases they carry. This becomes obvious when you live in an area of the world where there is clear mosquito paranoia (and it gets much worse in Africa). The Daily made a solid 30 minute podcast a couple years ago on how the latest generation of African mosquitoes, have become resistant (Natural Evolution) to insecticides, and are thus more deadly than ever : https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/th...
I'm not a huge fan of the Eagles, or just "Eagles", as they wanted to be called, though that was never going to happen given how awkward it was in terms of pronunciation.
"His favorite band is Eagles."
"Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome Eagles."
Anyways, I found this little gem on the Internet, and in this age of Auto-Tune, it's a nice moment.
I have moths in my apartment. Indianmeal moths, to be precise. These little bastards lay their eggs in my food (such as oats and muesli) and are very hard to get rid of. I don't kill flies or even wasps, but I have no mercy for these moths.
Yesterday, I was trying to hunt down one of them in the kitchen. It was flying around close to the ceiling, landed on a cabinet, and flew away not half a second later.
This got me thinking. For a human, it would be impossible to sit down, stand up and be a couple of body lengths away from that spot, all within half a second. I think this is because gravity has a greater effect on us than on small creatures such as moths. So while bugs live a very short life, it feels longer to them (insofar as they are able to experience things) than one might think.
In short, my theory is as follows: Less gravity makes for a longer perceived life.
This would mean that the high life expectancy of parrots is even more extraordinary, since they weigh so much less than humans. And a petite person dying at 85 years old has experienced a longer life than a tall, heavyset person passing away at the same age (provided that their body weight stayed roughly the same during their adult life).
What are your thoughts about this, Suited? Any flaws in my reasoning? Anything I'm missing?
