...when art and popular culture intersect, it's the product of a point
and time and as much a time capsule of a moment as an enduring work.
BG - random thoughts
and thoroughbred selections
Thanks Corson and thanks Fred. I'm erasing the slate here. No lists. No "things" - just going to riff and see what happens.
Let It Bleed is tracking on the iPod... which Dylan compilation would you pick if you could only pick one?
I had to google "You can new jack swing from my nuts" 'cause I hadn't a clue as to what that meant or to what the phrase referenced. The generation gap yawned before me .... Am I in the midst of a mid-life crisis?
Crossing the threshold at the T-Bird there's always a moment of initiation, transition. Stale smoke creeps from the walls and carpet as I enter the first set of double doors. The second set of double doors opens to a scene which never changes - rows of slots populated by fortune seekers looking for the miracle they hope will lift them from the mundane of the day-to-day. A woman passes in front of me, her face a road-map of dead ends and her eyes devoid of dreams. At her side is the oxygen bottle she is tethered to, a pack of cigarettes peeking defiantly from the dirty and worn hand bag she clutches. The electronic ding and ring of the slots is the soundtrack to this weary script.
Invisible, I make my way to the poker room making a subtle adjustment, slipping into my game mode, becoming Maudie, card player and poker room regular. "Hey there, Joy, what's new this week?" I quip as I approach the podium inside the door of the poker room/bar. "Hi, Maudie," she replies. "I can seat you at 3/6 right now. You want to go on the Omaha list or the 1/2 No Limit?" I sigh and decline. The 3/6'll be fine. Being the only limit hold-em now, it'll have to do. I have no Omaha game and the 1/2 NL is an all-in fest - no thanks.
I'm seated with the good-ol-boys, a few with whom I've played before. One is a pure calling station, hunched over and constantly chewing gum as he stares at the board. He never looks at you, never considers what you may be holding. An easy read - he'll play any two suited and any face or ace. Never raises pre-flop and if he raises you post flop, he has you beat. And he will suck out on you. The others aren't much different - passive and play 'friendly'. This particular mix is tighter than usual, though, and so I have some success at stealing the blinds and orphan pots.
The energy of the table is languid. Little conversation beyond comments on hands. I attempt to engage. Fail. Looking around the table, I see old men. But, I realize the age difference between them and myself isn't that broad and yet, I find little with which to identify. These men aren't curious. They are disengaged. Not interested. I wondered when it is that we close the door...when do we cross the gap to the other side? Is it necessary we do so? Is it an aberration if we don't? I'm trying to figure this out when I am jerked back to reality. The young man who sits down at my right (and who is bravely dressed in OSU orange) asks if the man on my left is my husband. I stuttered, "Oh no, he's not my husband..." - nuh-uh, no way.
He and I begin to talk about a mish-mash of things. He's excited - he's going to a pow-wow in a little bit with a buddy. It's only the second one he's been to and he says they rock. We talk easily. I commend him on his courage for his OSU orange attire, being in the midst of OU crimson and cream territory. He laughs and says he hadn't planned on being at the casino, otherwise he would've left the orange back in Stillwater.
One by one, the old men leave and are replaced by young men. I am flanked by 3 young guns and engage in conversation on strategy, pot odds, and Big Brother... We exchange knowing looks and rolling eyes when the calling station at the other end sucks out with a jack-five off suit. At one point, Curtis on my right (OSU Orange has since departed for the pow-wow) takes a pot off of me and apologizes commenting "Of all the people at the table, I didn't want to win against you..." - I've made a friend. His buddy is sitting across from him and I listen as they talk about their respective engagements and impending weddings. The buddy is a Big Brother fan and we commiserate over the latest evictions... this is so easy.
I leave the table - now filled with "younguns" - I wish my new comrades well and cash out. Invisible, I leave the poker room and weave my way through the slots and vacant stares of the hopeful. Another subtle adjustment, Maudie, card player and poker room regular is tucked away as the session's gains slide into my pocket. The evening's gains are reflected in the smile on my lips. Springsteen rocks from the iPod all the way home.
Wanna know how to live forever? Wanna know how not to grow old? Don't divorce yourself from the youth you once were. Don't alienate yourself from the youth you encounter. Embrace the age you are and recognize what you have to offer to and what you have to gain from everyone around you. Never cease to be curious.... keep the door open.
Nay... no mid-life crisis here. I'm experiencing a mid-life renaissance.
