rem sequence
I'm playing NLHE at my grandmother's apartment in manhattan, and a love-hate relationship has evolved between me and the four seat, who very closely resembles a laggy but thinking, dapper, egyptian gentleman who put the wood to a 6/12 table at oaks a month back.
so the egyptian open-raises to 1800 (with the blinds at 1/2, this seems excessive, but causes no commotion), a fishy MP calls, and I look down to find three separate hands: KcTc, JdTd, and Ks6c. it occurs to me that, if I could combine these hands to form black kings, I would happily play--and though, according to the internal logic of the dream, this is unethical, it's clear no one will notice. I push together my kings, call the raise [If you're going to cheat this egregiously, at least reraise.--Ed.] and begin counting out chips when the flop arrives, nastily, AQ6 all hearts. Apparently, I tank while pondering this board, because when I look up again, it has come running JT of spades, and has been checked to me on the river. MP has folded, pre-emptively. I check behind, the egyptian shows KJ, no hearts, and we chop it up.
quite put-upon, I begin a lenghty harangue of the dealer, a middle-aged chinese woman. (in this I was influenced, most probably, by the grandiloquent, performative language of the drawing room that forms much of the action in The Idiot.) I announce that the dealer has cost me this massive pot, as I would have pushed the flop. I imply connivance and dishonesty, question her motives, etc. finally, she asks my name, and I tell her. she produces a styrofoam cup of coffee, light and sweet, dips three fingers inside and, in the Orthodox style of benediction, curses me.
L thinks it is a dream about control, but I'm casting about for alternate theories.
bankroll: $2,491 capuanos (thanks to GP for reminding me of the Mighty Quinn's tradition of appending a ballplayer's surname to his bankroll in his Daily News columns; I intend to crib this custom.)
indigestion: found a good falafel joint, finally.
soundtrack: how come no one told me about young jeezy before now?
so the egyptian open-raises to 1800 (with the blinds at 1/2, this seems excessive, but causes no commotion), a fishy MP calls, and I look down to find three separate hands: KcTc, JdTd, and Ks6c. it occurs to me that, if I could combine these hands to form black kings, I would happily play--and though, according to the internal logic of the dream, this is unethical, it's clear no one will notice. I push together my kings, call the raise [If you're going to cheat this egregiously, at least reraise.--Ed.] and begin counting out chips when the flop arrives, nastily, AQ6 all hearts. Apparently, I tank while pondering this board, because when I look up again, it has come running JT of spades, and has been checked to me on the river. MP has folded, pre-emptively. I check behind, the egyptian shows KJ, no hearts, and we chop it up.
quite put-upon, I begin a lenghty harangue of the dealer, a middle-aged chinese woman. (in this I was influenced, most probably, by the grandiloquent, performative language of the drawing room that forms much of the action in The Idiot.) I announce that the dealer has cost me this massive pot, as I would have pushed the flop. I imply connivance and dishonesty, question her motives, etc. finally, she asks my name, and I tell her. she produces a styrofoam cup of coffee, light and sweet, dips three fingers inside and, in the Orthodox style of benediction, curses me.
L thinks it is a dream about control, but I'm casting about for alternate theories.
bankroll: $2,491 capuanos (thanks to GP for reminding me of the Mighty Quinn's tradition of appending a ballplayer's surname to his bankroll in his Daily News columns; I intend to crib this custom.)
indigestion: found a good falafel joint, finally.
soundtrack: how come no one told me about young jeezy before now?
posted by Daniel Habib at 11:05 AM
1 Comments:
psychic premonition?
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