Hella Hold'em

Nada new today... work, blah.

I played one $10 SnG on Full Tilt tonight - placed second. Nothing particularly exciting. Played tight, and won the hands I played. One guy who I've got lots of fishy notes on took down a nice pot with three of a kind, 3's. After nobody commented in the chat, he goes, "Thank you, thank you!" I would've said "nice hand," because four of a kind is a nice hand, but he won the hand playing Q3 (but it was sooooooooted!) and the board came three 3's. I just can't bring myself to say "nh" when the starting hand is awful to begin with - that is, with the exception of those lucky big blind specials. Those can be nice. This however was not a big blind special. It was a middle position for a raise special. (Q3???? Alrighty then...)

Little fish, big fish, swimming in the water... come back here, man, gimme my daughter....

Sorry. This blog was temporarily hijacked by the radio. Now Nirvana is on.

Eleven years ago this week, Kurt Cobain went missing. Today actually is the eleventh anniversary of his date of death according to his death certificate, though the coroner listed the margin of error at more than 24 hours. This is always a weird time of year for me. Yeah, I'm one of those Nirvana freaks. Always was, from the day I got Bleach in my grubby little hands. When I was 19, four months before Kurt died, my high school best friend and I took a day-after-Christmas impromptu road trip down to Athens, Georgia, to see if we could find Michael Stipe or anyone from R.E.M. (Ahh, the whims of youth!) We couldn't, and we also couldn't get into any bars, being underage, but we did find a cool tattoo parlor called Midnight Iguana. Neither of us had tattoos prior to that. I'm pretty much a wuss when it comes to inflicting unnecessary pain upon myself. But, I had a sketch that I'd copied out of a book or off a web site or something... it was a picture of a sticker that Kurt Cobain drew of Chim Chim the monkey with explosives on his back. He'd given the sticker to Courtney Love the first time they met, despite the fact that she wouldn't give him the time of day (or so the story goes). I thought that was just so sweet. So I got Chim Chim tattooed on my leg (explosives and all). I had the artist draw each of the monkey's hairs individually instead of just shading him in, so it would have that textured 3D effect. It was two hours of black outline ink brutality, but I couldn't have been happier. Then Cobain dies, and it was like I'd lost a friend.

For five years after he died, from April 4th to April 8th, I used to wear this one Nirvana shirt I had (yes, without changing clothes), and I'd drink wine by candlelight each night listening to Nirvana, and then end the ritual by playing a recording I had of Courtney Love reading Cobain's suicide note. Then on April 9th, I'd go back to normal.

I followed Tom Grant's investigation of the case for years. He thinks Cobain was murdered. This is certainly not the place to go into my thoughts on the issue, but I'll just say that some of the evidence certainly contradicts the suicide story. It doesn't matter though.

It's just an old ritual from my coming of age days that I can't help thinking about now that I'm too old to really indulge in such things. It's weird to think back to those days when everything in life had some big meaningful purpose. I used to be huge against censorship - that was my "thing." Not that I've changed - I'm still all for freedom of speech, but with so much else going on in life, there just isn't much time or energy left over to dedicate to those kinds of crusades.

Maybe I'm just in between purposes right now. It seems my big purposes in life these days revolve around making the car and mortgage payments and keeping a roof over my head and food on the table. Important, absolutely - but much less noble than fighting for some big cause. I'm sure I will have greater purposes in the future - having kids seems like it'd be the next big one. But that is a ways off.

What does this have to do with poker?

Nothing, sorry! Tangents. In the mood to ramble. My mom didn't speak to me for a month after I came home with that tattoo. LOL. Ahh, parents just want the best for their kids. She insisted that I'd regret it, "and besides, it's so UGLY!" (See photo link above) Ha! My mom is right about a lot of things, but I don't think she'll ever be right about this one. Eleven years later, I don't regret it. It's a testament to who I was at that time in my life, and during that time I really found out a lot about who I ended up being. How could I regret that? I don't regret any of them. And, they're all in "hideable" places, so....

Ahh well. Time for bed. Though I am looking for a cool card suit tattoo to get. I can't draw to save my life, but I'm on the lookout. Anyone got any ideas?