Something in the water

Yeah, about once every five weeks or so seems about right. It's been that long since I wrote here, and if memory serves me, that's been the pace as of late. I think about shutting this down completely, yet that seems too drastic. It may be nostalgia for the good ol' days of posting every day that keeps me from doing so, those days we all fondly remember because a game was always at-the-ready and there was sure to be a hand to be discussed. We developed a kinship around a flop.

For some, the game maintained a strong grip. For others like myself, Black Friday took the wind out of all my sails save the jib. Health issues didn't help, and may have even been partially exacerbated by all of the adrenaline and cortisol released into my system on a daily basis. Yet the breeze behind that one lone sail I reserve for keeping some small degree of contact with all of you, cheering you on as you succeed at the game, or just to check in from time to time.

I have a 5 hp outboard for my monthly home game and online practice. Big enough to play; too small to make the effort to tell you about it.

I am aware that many of my posts have an air of melancholy about them. This one is no different, except that I'm feeling pretty good, all things considered. I'm taking a lot of photos, both continuing my field burn series and shooting a lot of the offbeat stuff that really floats my boat; I'm painting in preparation for bombing my Saatchi Online page with tons of new work; my show in September is all ready to go except for building the shipping crates (fun!) and sending it off; and, I'm getting a good amount of work done around the farm.

No, the pall today is likely the result of what is going on in the lives of others. I have a friend who is so close to suicide that he has asked to be hospitalized; another friend's husband is back on crack and one of her daughters is stealing from her; another friend's husband is an alcoholic who has her terrified to move; and then add my wife's menagerie of fucked-up friends to the roll. Granted, this shit has been going on for ages. And I could list more. The difference is that I'm not in that same boat anymore. Not so much, anyway.

Now I listen. I try to only offer advice when asked.

To be honest, I've detached a bit, albeit (as they say in Al-Anon) with love.

As I write this (and yes, I've been in Al-Anon for over a year now), I make an association with another part of my life that I quite enjoy, and that is doing studio visits with other artists. (I was invited tonight to do just that with four or five graduate sculpture students at an art school in Chicago when I am there next month. I will be paid for doing it, but truth be known, I would do it for free, and have done so many, many, many, many times both in and out of the academic setting.) Typically, one starts by having a look around at what the artist has prepared for the visit. I may offer a short comment, usually positive, about a piece, if for no other reason than to put the artist at ease. Then I will say something along the lines of "Tell me what you were thinking when..." at which time the artist has the floor to give a rationale (or not) and provide me enough information to ask more pertinent, pointed questions.

I ask these questions not to point them in a direction to align with my point of view or interpretations I may have, but rather to allow them the space to think deeper about what they are doing, to hear themselves say things aloud, perhaps for the first time, and then roll it about on their tongue to see how it tastes as they say it. Yeah, therapy of sorts, no?

Back in the day, a popular theme among poker bloggers was how poker was a metaphor for life. Christ, this used to bother me to no end! While it may have been more a matter of my own issues than what I perceived as an exercise in triteness, the possibility of an element of truth might have been the greater bugaboo. The possibility of truth? How about a hard, cold one?

I have always thought the matter of luck in poker to be over-rated. Skill mattered; luck seemed comparatively irrelevant. I have even gone so far to proclaim I don't believe in luck, even though I surely have forgotten numerous instances in which I have been the recipient. Of course, I remember the bad luck hands more readily. Still, I suppose I'm enough of a sucker to believe that in the long run, skill, like hard work, is what really matters. Nothing wrong with that.

Away from the table the same thing should hold true, no? Hard work, skill, good and bad luck are at play in any given endeavor. For my friends whom I mentioned above, for myself, and for all of us, the mixture varies. And not to contradict myself, but I would say I've been pretty lucky. Not always, and there have been times when I didn't think I was graced in any manner of my liking, but like in poker, the long game is paying off, and as we know, not all of that is luck; nor is it all a matter of our own choosing.

I think this qualifies as a ramble, no? But like I said, it's been five weeks or so.