The Words Are Building...

I owe y'all two reports. One, the wrapup on my Vegas trip, which could get fairly lengthy (I endured many a teasing in my newspaper days about "diarrhea of the typewriter"). The other, a wrapup of a pleasingly successful just-completed weekend of online tournaments (including four-for-four at cashing in tournaments Sunday and a bounty and T-shirt for knocking Full Tilt pro Jon "pearljammed" Turner out of cracknaces' H.O.R.S.E. tourney for bloggers and other degenerates).

I owe ya. I'll pay ya. I always pay. But not tonight. To be scarily truthful, one thing that got me out of the writing/reporting/editing biz is a combination of writer's block and panic attacks. I point my degeneration (as a scribe) to the auto accident in the mid-'90s that gave me a "broken neck" (doctor's diagnosis, not mine) and had me wearing one of them screw-into-your-head halos for five months. No fun. I still have flashbacks sometimes. No excuse. But that's just how it is. And I'm old. I don't really like writing about me (I MUCH preferred doing game reports and features on athletes and artistes), so the whole blog/diary thing is ... something else. But I do like to write, and commuicate, and I'm getting into it a little -- sometimes a lot.

I love reading the (what's the word?) verbose? illuminating? heart-felt? writings of bloggers like Dr. Pauly, Al, Falstaff, Irongirl and others. Maybe a little of them will be contagious and keep inspiring me. Like an onion, a lot of layers to peel here ... a lot of surprises, good and bad, to be uncovered, developed and dealt with.

Meanwhile, I owe y'all two reports. I expect the one on last weekend can be cajoled and coerced out of me by me in the morning. For now, thank you for being there; time to watch tonight's High Stakes tapes and continue that educational track of my other chosen profession. The poker explosion caught my fancy and gave me reason to live (really) back in the Summer of Moneymaker; I'd finally discovered a new calling that was much more promising than suicide.

Hasta manana...