the home of indifference
How many times have I entereda room, a game, a hand—full speed, only to be remindedthe game moves slow.Until it rushes you with anticipation, abandons you in it’s old rhythms.Cracked vinyl chairs, coasterssticky with old beer, the crickets chirp of riffling chips.
That summer I got very nitty, opening only 5.6% of handsfrom all positions. ATs-AKs, 88+, AKo, and KQs. I spent longafternoons in windowless rooms, flicking cards at dealers, perfecting my aim. When the OMCs requested table changes and the regs started to straddle, I held the game in the muck. That summer I blasted my equity, released aces with ease,folded out all the draws. But for the...
the home of indifference