Today I pass another milestone on the drudge towards death…. well I guess that’s how I’d put it at other times but fortunately my upbeat mood continues and the outlook at the moment seems quite rosey. Yes, I’m 48 today (probably in stones as well as years, thank you depakote). I’m still busy producing music, here’s one of my recent songs, it’s a kinda bipolar blues…. Once again I’ve launched myself on Bebo and MySpace in the hope of finding a musical niche for myself…. so far there has been only one response. But just in case there us a sudden demand for my musical talents I have prepared for performance and bought a kickass valve amp that will blow your head off at 40 paces. Apart from making music and wandering through cyberspace, I’m basically...
This will be my last post before I take a break for just over a week in Ibiza with Mrs A.I'm gutted at missing Sundays Britbloggerment game ( on Stars at 9pm bst,password:donkament) though a weeks break from the poker will probably do me good overall.I played a wee $6 turbo at 'Stars to warm up last night ( no joy) before scanning my current sites for a juicy table.Party poker won the day and I sat down for some $50 nl shennanigans.I'd chipped up a little when I was dealt 9c10c in late position.Nl can be a funny old game.Big hands tend to win small pots and the most lucrative way to win money is calling raises with speculative hands and hitting big against big pairs/AK/AQ etc.It's a balancing act though, because if you called everything hoping to hit buy-ins would leak away fairly...
I’m still overactive and not sleeping much. Now 4 hours sleep might be OK for your average Joe but my very nature is that of an obnoxious slob and my norm is about 8-9 hours and more like at least 12 at the weekend. I woke reluctantly and certainly grumpily, early this morning. It was still dark but through the faint orange glow of the streetlight seeping through the curtains I made out the silhouette of an old man at the end of the bed holding a scythe and an hourglass… what the fuck does he want… am I dead??? Oh no… he’s a bloody metaphor signalling yet another birthday... shit. Forty seven years ago I was dragged from my mother’s womb (very much against my wishes by all accounts). I was born in “the big”.“The big” was a bed settee in our living room, two floors up...
