Thoughts After Midnight

Considering this post from a few days ago, I probably ought to avoid writing anything that could be considered emo. Bear with me, though. I'm not going to recite Marx or confess a sexual inadequacy so that girls will like me (unless that works, in which case I'd do it in a heartbeat). Tonight was the best time I've had all summer, which isn't necessarily saying a lot, given the soul-wrenching monotony and boredom of my job. It started when I went uptown with one of my poker buddies to the Yale Club, where apparently there are Thursday night cocktails all summer. Maybe because it was my first time at one of these gatherings, it felt like a reunion, and I was genuinely surprised at my happiness in seeing old friends---one person in particular. I'm finding out little by little that people I know, and some that I don't know, are reading this website, and I want to thank them all for doing so. Blogging is the most self-indulgent activity possible, a kind of cyber-therapy on the cheap. Not only has this site been the most important thing I've done in a long time, but its effect on me has been truly liberating. Something about the medium has enabled me to express my character more freely than perhaps I ever have before. Of course it isn't going to last long, but everything feels pretty good right now, and I'm going to enjoy the high. Keep reading, and please, go ahead and post comments.

After the Yale Club, my friend and I headed over to the Ace-Point, a semi-underground poker club with no-limit tables. I was pretty happy with my play during the night; I made a healthy profit by the time I headed home, and earned a fair amount of it with well-timed bluffs. I also got to witness the single most absurd hand I have ever seen. About five players saw the flop, including my friend, who was on the button. The flop came 7d9dTd. Before my friend could do anything, there had been a bet, a raise, and a reraise. He was holding the Jd, and figured that at least one of his opponents had to have a better flush draw than him, and folded. On the turn, the 6d fell. Another heavy round of betting, and one more player dropped out. On the river, the 8d fell, making a 10 high straight flush in diamonds on the board. That meant that my friend, with the Jd, would have made the absolute nuts. Instead, he had to watch the players who remained at the end split the pot. It turned out, by the way, that his read was correct. One of them had the Kd. He would have been drawing dead to the straight flush after the turn against that card. The other disconsoling fact for my friend is that we were at a caller's table; with a straight flush on board, he could easily have gotten a fantastic price for his higher straight flush.

Sometime tomorrow, I'll be posting my response to Jonathan. Despite the harsh language I often use, I've thoroughly enjoyed the dialogue, both on a personal level and because it's good for the blog. This latest response will be the last substantive post on gay-marriage issues for a while. I have other things to talk about, I swear. Rather than play the same tune about gay rights, I'm going to institute a new feature, the "Francoism Watch," which will document aggressive efforts to incorporate religious ideology within the civil law, and also particularly boneheaded remarks from various personalities on the far right of the religious right.