The mental gymnast has left the building.
Perhaps, it seems more likely that it was never in the building per se. There really is no exercise that would fix my mental ailments, that would probably drive most people mad. As disturbed as my Mind is, there seems to be a couple remote places archived in the back somewhere that can provide serenity or at least a perceived peace that makes it my reality.
If I just wrote about model trains or my layout it would become a sterile boring blog.... By nature, I think model trains are a bit sterile, as an engineered based hobby. All of which I am not. I am messy, life is messy. No amount of sterility can fix it.
A professional poker player with a passion for trains. That's as messy as it gets. My sniping of the unsuspected constantly with a desire to win more than lose a constant driver. Details, even the smallest, a constant companion that compels me. What are the parallels that combine the two in a wonderful orchestrated mess? Poker hands that fail in the end, second best hands, always a threat to the end game. Bad reads, failed attempts in large draws and river game changers. It all makes sense, life is exactly the same. It is never fair, never easy, and always a surprise finish in the end.
How does it all fit? Is it all just a choice? Is it a narcissistic, endulgent, self promotion of nothing that really matters, perhaps? I might not be able to even tell you what "it" is, but what " it"isn't in the end game.
This I know, it is what it is, and coherent random stringing of words to make sentences is only a small piece of the puzzle...
Model trains and the Shasta line are an accumulation of all the above at the end of a run or session. A recouped mental status played out with failures and minor successes. That is what the blog represents, that is the Fab of the fanatic, and where I leave this particular post...
Carry on.
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