In Xanadu did Kubla Khan a stately pleasure-dome decree...aka the person from Porlock ruins my run.
Do you know that story? It about Samuel Taylor Coleridge, one of my favourite poets. Bruce Dickinson must have liked him a lot too, because Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner was an epic before it was reincarnated as a guitar-god fantasy. And in keeping with the circularity of this post, Maiden was the inspiration for the name of the oasis you rest at now.
In 1797, Coleridge takes two grains of opium to treat his dysentery while reading a book about Kubla Khan. He wakes from an opium dream and immediately begins transcribing the poem his brain was romancing while as high and clear as Denver on a sunny day. If you've never read it, I recommend two glasses of Merlot - yes, fuck Sideways and its sack of shit about Pinot - and a full stomach before treating yourself to this weird and lyric dreamland.
Sadly, the poem was never completed because a businessman from Porlock, a nearby town, interrupts Coleridge at work. By the time he gets rid of the guy, Inspiration has exited as well. For 200 years lesser writers have been reading this poem and wistfully wondering at the sunlight lost to the chasm, somewhere in those caves of ice...
What does any of this have to do with poker?
Yesterday I had my A-game running full steam on Full Tilt. I was in the 2pm deep stacks 6k guaranteed (my favourite for budgetary and structure reasons). I had all the signs I was final table bound. Early on I had flopped two sets and extracted max value, I won a very profitable midgame race, and most importantly made a lifesaving late midgame laydown when the big-stack MP raiser pushed at a TJQ board that I had paid 3x from LP to see with 89s. I used every second of time and reflected on what I knew about him. I told him what I was laying down and being a hell of a good guy, he showed me the AK I put him on. I was in 8th with 70 left when my queen's got cracked by a smallish stack who called my reraise push with A8o. That's why you need the big stack: to survive the lunatics out there. Still looking great 30ish out of 60 or so and most importantly feeling damn good. My Ace HUD (many thanks Wes and Rav for the recommendation. It helps. Period.) was serving me well and I felt I had a great shot at my best score in a while.
Then the guy with the moving company showed up a half hour early, ie. before my wife got home and proceeded to talk my ear off while I tried to play and still be polite.
I was doing ok until I hit the call button holding pocket 9s. What I didn't realize until too late was that I had called off 2/3 of my stack to the tightest player at our table. I am fucked, I sighed. The flop brought me nothing in the way of hope and he pushed. I suppose I could have folded and tried to regroup with my micro stack, but I called his Jacks and was done. He was a good player, one I am a little happy to say made the final table. I had obviously been avoiding him like the plague. Until I didn't. At which point I promptly got the plague.
The mover left about ten minutes later. Yeesh.
Since this stop is never about the deep insights, let me try to help by focusing on the patently obvious. Don't answer the door when making a serious run.
Beware the Person from Porlock.
They are indeed Poor Luck.
Laytah.
In 1797, Coleridge takes two grains of opium to treat his dysentery while reading a book about Kubla Khan. He wakes from an opium dream and immediately begins transcribing the poem his brain was romancing while as high and clear as Denver on a sunny day. If you've never read it, I recommend two glasses of Merlot - yes, fuck Sideways and its sack of shit about Pinot - and a full stomach before treating yourself to this weird and lyric dreamland.
Sadly, the poem was never completed because a businessman from Porlock, a nearby town, interrupts Coleridge at work. By the time he gets rid of the guy, Inspiration has exited as well. For 200 years lesser writers have been reading this poem and wistfully wondering at the sunlight lost to the chasm, somewhere in those caves of ice...
What does any of this have to do with poker?
Yesterday I had my A-game running full steam on Full Tilt. I was in the 2pm deep stacks 6k guaranteed (my favourite for budgetary and structure reasons). I had all the signs I was final table bound. Early on I had flopped two sets and extracted max value, I won a very profitable midgame race, and most importantly made a lifesaving late midgame laydown when the big-stack MP raiser pushed at a TJQ board that I had paid 3x from LP to see with 89s. I used every second of time and reflected on what I knew about him. I told him what I was laying down and being a hell of a good guy, he showed me the AK I put him on. I was in 8th with 70 left when my queen's got cracked by a smallish stack who called my reraise push with A8o. That's why you need the big stack: to survive the lunatics out there. Still looking great 30ish out of 60 or so and most importantly feeling damn good. My Ace HUD (many thanks Wes and Rav for the recommendation. It helps. Period.) was serving me well and I felt I had a great shot at my best score in a while.
Then the guy with the moving company showed up a half hour early, ie. before my wife got home and proceeded to talk my ear off while I tried to play and still be polite.
I was doing ok until I hit the call button holding pocket 9s. What I didn't realize until too late was that I had called off 2/3 of my stack to the tightest player at our table. I am fucked, I sighed. The flop brought me nothing in the way of hope and he pushed. I suppose I could have folded and tried to regroup with my micro stack, but I called his Jacks and was done. He was a good player, one I am a little happy to say made the final table. I had obviously been avoiding him like the plague. Until I didn't. At which point I promptly got the plague.
The mover left about ten minutes later. Yeesh.
Since this stop is never about the deep insights, let me try to help by focusing on the patently obvious. Don't answer the door when making a serious run.
Beware the Person from Porlock.
They are indeed Poor Luck.
Laytah.
posted by Iakaris aka I.A.K. at 11:44 AM
14 Comments:
who's kubla khan, your great, great, great, great, great, great, you get the point, uncle?
shitty ending....hey just a secret that i thought id let u in on. Fulltilt allows u to data mine. Meaning u just leave tables open and it will get stats on all players. I leave it on all day at all the limits i play at so when people sit i already have like 500 hands on most people. It really helps in cash games.....gl at the tables
i mean leave tracker up and running and it will data mine the tables
Tisk Tisk...you must create a lovely little bubble zone for yourself darling whilest going deep.
However, I must disagree on the choice of Merlot for Coleridge, flights of fantasy such as Kubla Khan can only be digested with something meatier like a Zinf or Cab blend.
Great post.
"And plus there was this jerk-off mountain climber apparently suffering from a few too many brain cells dying at high altitudes who kept yahooing me."
There. I wrote it for you.
Excellent post, my Iron Maiden-loving friend. I dug Rime as a poem before I heard the song...listening to the track was a surreal experience, and one that I was able to use to shut my parents up. They hated my metal music, because it was all sex, drugs, and satan (not that there's anything wrong with that). Gee mom, this band is basing their music on poetry! That can't be evil, can it?
Anyway, your lesson is a tough one to learn, one I've already experienced. Don't answer the door, don't answer the phone, don't do any of that crap. Even if it seems like it will be a minor experience, they always take longer than you expect (i.e. you did a quick fold and ran to the door, only to get stuck there for several hands) and they cause you to make simple errors (like calling a raise instead of limping as planned). Still, you seem to be running strong, so keep it up amigo!
iamhoff, great advice, don't let life get in the way of poker...um, hell, why even have a family, they just get in the way.
hmm...so this is what you've been doing instead of inviting us simple folk over...
Sorry about railing you and giving you the bad mojo...
"Four times fifty living men,
(And I heard nor sigh nor groan)
With heavy thump, a lifeless lump,
They dropped down one by one."
Keep tearing up the tables just like Sammy describes.
Great.
ya the pizza guy has effed me at least a couple of times.
i saw the Dickinson ver of Maiden live a few times. headlining with the likes of Saxon and The Scorpions. 80's metal RAWKS!
BD, ya know, those family-type things do get in the way. They cost a lot too. *grins* I didn't mean to imply that you should ignore your obvious priorities. I'm just saying that you should do what you can to set aside time for poker, time that is free of distractions such as the answering the doorbell, etc. Do I put the GF's wants and needs ahead of poker? Yes, that's why I no longer attempt to play when she's home. If she's gone, then it's poker time and I'm not gonna want to answer the phone or whatever. My .02
Hoff, just busting chops, I knew what you ment.
Hey, it was great to finally play a tournament and make the money with you last night.
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