Illiterati

(Near) Victory!

So last night I moneyed in my first-ever live poker tournament.  I made the final table with $15,000 chips at Riverside and took out two people for a total of three bounties and eventually went out in 7th place with A7 of clubs, all-in before the flop.  (The chip amount is arbitrary; I won about $200, for those of you who don't know poker.)

I'd like to thank the poker gods for the pocket Aces and for letting me slow play them just this once, I swear, and for letting me suck out with pocket Js, pocket 5s, and pocket 9s to make two flushes and a set, respectively.  Because really (and this is what makes it so infuriating) poker is only partly about skill.

Next time, though, I want first place.

Overheard in Iowa: U haz funnel cloud?

B, on going out in the middle of last night's thunderstorm to the grocery store: If I die out there, I want you to take $10,000 of the insurance money and play the World Series of Poker in my memory.

Me: I can't do that.  I'd be in mourning, I couldn't play poker!

B: I know you'd be sad, but you'd get over it.  You'd meet someone new.

Me: I don't want to meet someone new.  Think of it--I'd
actually have to work on a relationship.

B: Yeah, isn't it nice to have someone to take for granted?

The Sounds of Silence

So I'm feeling much better, but I still can't speak, at least not well.  This is probably better for everyone at the coffeehouse where I sit all day to grade papers because no one can hear me curse out my students for NOT FOLLOWING DIRECTIONS, but it still makes life awkward.  I whispered my way through a dinner party on Saturday and made B order for me when we went out to brunch yesterday.  However, none of this stopped me from cursing, as much as I was able, when I went all in as the short stack with pocket 7s in our local poker game Saturday night only to find out that Jayson, who was on some kind of unstoppable streak that night, had pocket 8s.  He hit a third 8 on the flop. 

Which prompted the outburst. 

Which is probably why I still can't speak even though the cold is almost gone.

Casinos to start having author readings...

...I think I've died and gone to heaven.  Except, of course, no one has asked me to do one.

I Would Have Given Anything to Be There

Word comes this morning that over the weekend, Fence magazine held a poker benefit with professional players Annie Duke and Howard Lederer, who were there in support of their sister Katy Lederer, who edits the magazine.

Why, why was I not invited?  (Other than the fact that they have no idea who I am?)  I would have flown to New York to be there.  I had no idea that Lederer and the other Lederers were related.  My literary-poker axis is spinning.  What a great game that must have been.

Annie and Katy and Howard go on my literary poker fantasy-game list.  Call me if you ever want a game, people.

(Thanks to galleycat for the link.)

Why I Would Make A Good Guest on "Celebrity Poker Showdown"

I would like to now address directly the producers of the Bravo TV show "Celebrity Poker Showdown," and explain why I would make an excellent guest on this program.

1. I can actually play poker, unlike the actors who usually appear on the program.

2. Although I have a huge crush on Phil Gordon, I promise not to becoming embarassing and stalker-y, or make slightly inappropriate comments or climb all over the other guests, unlike Wendy Pepper.

3. I have been known to make the occasional funny quip, enlivening the discourse on the program.

4. I have an excellent charity to play for.

5. As far as I know, no novelist has ever appeared on the show, and I think it's high time there was one.

Now, as for the last entry, I realize that novelists are not actually celebrities, at least not in this country, but technically neither are NASCAR drivers and tennis players, and both of those have appeared on the program.  I'm not foolish enough to suggest an all-writers edition of the show, unlike the all-"Men of Desperate Housewives" program they did awhile back, because having an entire show with nothing but writers would send their possibly already low ratings into the basement. 

Earlier tonight, over a plate of fries, B asked with whom I would like to play if I were going to have my dream team poker final table for writers.  Now I've given this a lot of thought.  I don't know if any of these play poker, but if I could have my way:

1. David Mitchell
2. George Saunders
3. Ian McEwan
4. Stuart Dybek
5. Jonathan Franzen

I pick this list not only because these are writers I admire, but because I think it would be entertaining to sit a table with them.  To be honest, they'd probably all hate each other and end up arguing about first person versus third or the state of the novel or whether or not artists have a duty to include the political in fiction.  And then Saunders would say the hell with that, make me laugh, at which point a fight would break out and I would swoop in and take their money.

There are also no women on this list.  Not because I don't love women authors, because I really, really do, but not many women authors play poker.  (Not enough women authors have Elvis in them.)  Which means more straights and flushes for me.

If time and the laws of physics were not a problem, add to that list Mark Twain, Leo Tolstoy, and Vladimir Nabokov.

I would go all in against Nabokov.  Oh yes, I would.