NOTE : BE SURE TO READ OTIS' INVITE POSTED BELOW
We'd just finished our shoot and were standing on the Main Street bridge. The broadest gurgle of the Reedy River was over my left shoulder and the blazing sun on the right. I knew Sunday that this would be my Monday beat. We'd led the newscast for 2 days with warnings of the "HEAT ADVISORY" for the entire veiwing area. Usually when local news "experts" tell you the weather is too hot, cold, wet, windy or dry to venture outside....that's exactly where I end up.
After 2 hours of interviewing roofers and following the friendly staff at "Party Time Ice", we'd come to the part that features me. I stood with my face to the camera and my hand on the mike and prepared to record a tease. Veiwers always need a warning about what's "coming up!" We had a monster story about how regular Joe's were coping with the heat.
"I think its great that you're willing to go on camera like that," Mark smiled.
I looked down at my TV LOGO shirt, and found it so drenched in sweat my giant man nipples were naked against the polyester. Until then, I thought I looked pretty damn good. I thought I had kept my cool.
Beauty in the Eye...
HBO has this docu-garbage about life in the cathouse, the life and times of the average working whore. I hope they all make a good living. Few of them look like they've been living good. Most have a few extra pounds, which draws the eye from the spartan teeth and peroxide hair. Right now there may well be a website devoted to stretch marks and lingerie, but it ain't my bag baby.
I always wonder what happens above the bustier. What does a Vegas whore imagine as her own self-image. The answer we get from mirrors is like that of a tired co-worker who is always "fine" when you ask. You almost always see just what you expect.
The johns aren't much help of course. The fawn over their 3 bill bonk like an Otis in a river of Rogaine. They've contracted a service and are determined to get their money's worth. I'm still waiting for the episode when a client hands over his cash with a death row smile and says "you look like grandma...but let's see if the wrinkles are fun."
Poker players have the same problem. Its easy to believe your game is going tight and the sags are will hidden by a visor and an I-Pod. The other players at the table certainly aren't going to point out the flaws they've found. I often delude myself, through weeks of modest winnings, into believing I've turned a corner in my play. At least I get paid, and there's little time for introspection.
But when I play with certain players, the better ones of course, they're aware of every deceit. I sat to TightRandy's left last Thursday and he read me like a book. Normally I avoid most pots with him because his willingness to play is itself a tell. But after most hands he was able to smell my aggressive bluff. Usually it was the betting pattern that tipped him off. Betting that I thought was pretty damn smooth.
Headsup with BadBlood I ran into it again. I taunted him beforehand, just because that's how I play. I won most of the minor pots. But somehow he knew when my bluff at the turned ace was exactly that. Somehow he knew when I was betting the second pair. I had tells all over my face and he spotted them in seconds. Why was I so unaware?
As much I harp about observing other players, its just as important to watch ourselves. Win rates can lie and you're opponets lips are sealed. On the bridge downtown I only knew how bad I looked because my teammate took note. In a solitary game there's no backcourt assist. To find the flaws in another's game is simple, compared to real INsight...vision into ourselves.
I've played with dozens of players who felt that last tournament win...that one big take at home....that killer night online...put them on top of their game. It's easy to be fooled. Lately I think I've whored myself. I'm blind to my mirror tells.