Elizabeth Shueless

As I spend the night guzzling the backwash of my poker accounts, I feel a bit like the Nicholas Cage character in Leaving Las Vegas. Am I donkeying myself to death? Or will I enter rehab and triumphantly return to the felt clean and sober? Maybe I can snuggle with Lindsay Lohan as we exorcise our demons together. (Resist ... urge ... to ... type ... "Hey. I hear that Betty Ford is available."

Having already bled off some of the 'roll tonight playing .10/.25 NL and a card-dead Riverchasers tournament, I'm using what's left in my Tilt account playing $6.50 SNG turbos. I just finished 9th in the first of these when kings fell to A-Q on the second hand. We've played two hands in the second one and I'm still in. A moral victory.

I told the Monsignor on the way to lunch today that I need a break. I seem distracted. I can't get any traction in tournaments and my cash game skills have improved to the point where I've become a danger to myself. Sessions find me chipping up steadily with smart play and giving away those profits (and more) thanks to a couple of inexcusably stupid decisions.

I'm playing Sunday in a $50 deepstack tournament (10K in chips, 20 minute levels) that's expected to draw 70-plus players. After that, we'll see what my poker future holds. Of course I'll be back. But a hiatus, even if for a week or two, is in order.