Thursday, July 09, 2009


So it's small things that get you excited, small triumphs, little steps on the road to wherever.

So the other day I'm playing poker. I've just moved up to the 22s and as usual, when I move up, I run really bad. I had lost a couple of hundred bucks, which is not much, but when you have painstakingly won it a buck at a time, it feels like a lot. It's a feature of poker that losing seems a lot easier than winning.

So I'm losing, and the little whiny child in me is saying, let's give up poker. We're not good enough and now we're getting our comeuppance.

But there's a stronger me: an experienced, smart poker player, who has studied and learned. And that guy looked around the table and said, hang on, no one here, literally no one, has the first clue how to play an STT. And my edge, my ability to win, is strongly expressed in being able to say that, to know that I am the only player there with the ability to win money over the long term.

Today, I got a bunch of new work. The local paper's chief sub has offered me casual shifts and my people in Singapore have given me a new project. And I know, if I let myself know it, that if I don't give in to self pity, I can survive, and better than that, thrive.

The monkey can get fucked. Because I know that happiness is not illusory. I know that I am the guy who can write a wicked bassline, beat the 55s in time, edit anything, massage you into paradise, fuck you till you're sore, win. I can win. I knew it in an instant.

And I came second. (Sometimes that's like winning [insert winky].) It's enough. I am going home. I am soon going to be walking the streets of an English city, and everything will be okay. All that ails me will vanish, and I will have my pear tree.

Yes, fuck the monkey. I will have my pear tree. I am telling you now, you can count on it. Bear with me; where I have it in my power, you will have yours too. Can we not rise up? Can we not overcome our monkeys?

I know it won't last. I know I'm manic and the crash awaits. I don't care. You will never understand. You will never know that it is all worth it. It's like a cycle. At the top, I love you. I love you so much I am bursting with it. At the bottom, I hate everyone, myself the most. But I wouldn't trade it. I mean, I couldn't trade it.

I feel like laughing maniacally and I don't care. LOLOLOLOLOL. See? Tonight, Zenita was trying on her new hat, which Mrs Zen bought for her, because we will soon be in a place that is cold for months on end, not just the odd night (and I am sitting out on our back verandah on a midwinter night, in a light jumper). She was so perfect, a little hippie chick, beautiful and spirited, real and tangible. I do not know how to tell you how much I love her. You would have to feel it to know how it is.

How lucky we are! Us dads, how lucky we are to feel this overwhelming, wonderful love we have for our girls and our gentle, beautiful boys. How lucky we are sometimes to be winners, to rise above it and be, for a moment or two, better than the world we have been marooned in. Three cheers for us. Fuck the monkey. He does not cheer. He leers and hopes to see us fail. But if we live, and have hope, he cannot ever see us fail. If we live.

I will have my pear tree. Come with me. We will have it together. I have stopped being shit when I lose. I have learned that losing is just one more step on the way to winning. I am better than the world I am a stranger in. I will be home soon. Fuck the monkey. He is not coming with me. He is not coming. He is going to stay here. He belongs here, the miserable cunt. Come with me. Let's succeed. Let's be people we can fall in love with. Let's be manic forever. Let's win.

Let's win. We're good enough. Look around. No one at this table has a clue. We are not opposed to them. We are just who and what we are. We do not have monkeys to hold us back. We have a strong, deep understanding of love, and that is our salvation, nothing else, and nothing between us and winning, always, winning.


At 11:06 pm, Anonymous Anonymous said...

fuck you till you're sore.

LOL you're confusing sore with bored.

At 11:49 am, Blogger our man in Canberra said...

Up and at 'em Doc.

Shock the monkey and the Peter Gabriel he rode in on.

At 8:40 pm, Anonymous Anonymous said...

boots sez:

"And that guy looked around the table and said, hang on, no one here, literally no one, ..."

You might be starting to get it.

It's you and the table, just you and the table. There might be other guys hanging out there, but it's just you and the table. Always.

The table is the world. The world unfocussed as one thing. Just you and the world. Always.

You're not playing against the other guys, you're playing against the world, its parts unfocussed until it's just one thing.

Of course you'll have your pear tree. There is no monkey, it's just a part of the world, and when you focus on the world the monkey goes away.

When you have your pear tree, as I have had mine for some while (though mine has pinecones) don't think you're done yet. The pear tree is another part of the world.

You and the table, that's all there is. All there needs to be. When you beat the table, the other guys there, sitting at the table, will think you've beaten them, but you haven't; theirs is between them and the table, just like yours is.

Eventually you'll learn to win the game without the cards, that the world will give you whatever you need to try and get you to lose your focus on it and look at the monkey.

You're gonna be fine.

"I know it won't last. I know I'm manic and the crash awaits."

The crash is the world's way of telling you it's won a hand, that you've lost your focus on it and started looking at the monkey.

Fuck the monkey.


Post a Comment

<< Home