insight

L took me to bikram at mission yoga, and the moment of proximate transcendence occurred when the instructor intoned, "let your body do the work." and I did, and I did.

was chastised by a smart player at oaks for this:

one limp, I limp in MP with Td8d, both blinds call.

flop (4 sb, 4 players): Ts9d8s
sb bets, bb calls, fold, I call.

turn (3.5 bb, 3 players): Qc
sb bets, bb calls, I raise, sb calls all-in, bb calls.

river (6.5 bb, 3 players): 2d
check, check.

sb showed 98, bb Q2, MHIG.

I had been talking for most of the afternoon with the guy to my left, who was a thinking, strong player, also a bassist in a punk band and an offensive lineman in college (big dude, black zippered hoodie, de rigueuer on both counts, yes?). about an hour into the session, he whispered, "I know we're not supposed to talk about this, but, have you read... ?" "SSHE?" I replied, sotto voce. he smiled.

but anyway J really disliked my flop play here. "what happened to playing it fast?" he wanted to know.

fuck. I just deleted a lengthy rationalization of my flop call, because it was wrong. the flop was an easy raise. at least I woke up and popped the turn. but the river was also a very easy value bet. I really butchered this hand. miles to go, miles to go.

coda, mission yoga offers naked male yoga, sundays at 4:30. it promises "nonsexual male intimacy." RKK, you have been dreaming of this your whole life, no?

bankroll, $3,734 (it has been a bad week online)
indigestion, couscous and pinto beans.
np, "tgif," le tigre