By LuckyJimm

I'm still working at the same firm, still wasting each day staring at a screen. I was particularly irritated by a rude email from a lawyer last week, and found myself considering becoming a cycle courier instead. My days would be filled with adrenaline and excitement, I'd get fit, lose weight, and be happy. But when I asked for advice on several forums, people said leaving an easy and overpaid job for a difficult, poorly-paid and dangerous one could never be the right decision. I'd still be patronised, but by receptionists and controllers rather than by lawyers. And realistically I have to accept I'm just not fit enough to cycle perhaps a hundred miles a day. So instead I'll keep my pointless, easy job for now, whilst trying to cycle more in the evenings at weekends.

There was an anguished thread on the Gutshot forum over the weekend titled "Think I'm addicted". The poster was Gullanian, a young guy I met at the club a few weeks ago. He talked of swearing he'd never play poker again every time he lost his money, only to find himself craving action and repositing hours later. He can't go a day without playing, His heart races when he feels a big pot but he feels godawful when he loses. He drinks when he plays, and when that happens of course he loses. He said he had no other hobbies or interests, but desperately wants to stop playing and wished poker wasn't a part of his life.

To my surprise I found I wasn't able to offer Gullanian any serious advice, however similar his situation is to my own. I found myself looking for a funny picture to post, or an easy joke. I have become entirely inured to the negative emotions he described, and what he describes just sounds like normal to me. I think the thread made me uncomfortable because I have already made my choice to stick with poker, whatever the negative consequences, whatever the emotional harm. His raw emotions reminded me of my own neglected choices. I could stop, but chose not to. Well, I wish him luck in getting off this misguided path.

I don't seem to have discipline in any area of my life at the moment. There was a drinks trolley after work on Friday and I drank a bottle of wine and stuffed myself with chicken and prawn canapes, though I didn't talk to any of the lawyers or majorly embarass myself. I cycled home drunk, cackling manically, playing tunes on my bike's horn. Then I fell asleep for a few hours, woken by a call from my Italian housemate who uncharacteristically asked if I wanted to go clubbing.

We were at Egg in Kings Cross for midnight, a medium sized club with two main rooms and an outdoor area. He'd bought some MDMA, but for a while there were too few people at the club and the wrong atmosphere for its consumption to seem worthwhile. Finally by 2.40am the atmosphere had changed, the casual drinkers having left, so we took a quarter gram each. It was the first time I'd done it in six months, and it took half an hour to kick in.

I love the first rushes of coming up. I tell myself I should do this every weekend. I apologised to my housemate for having been so beastly to him earlier in the year in our arguments about cleaning. For a brief moment I become a nicer person. Having had no inclnation earlier to dance, it now came naturallly and I had no inhibitions. My paranoia about the thuggish people around us disappeared. I wasn't scared any more. My housemate for some reason kept pulling my hair, since he said it would make me higher. And he would get me to press the palms of my hands against his and push hard. Hmm, maybe. I drew the line when he said he wanted me to press my belly against his and arch my back. I don't care if no-one's watching, it's just too much.

I was tired and couldn't dance for long without feeling myself coming down, and I didn't like that. Before long I was asking random people if they knew where I could get more pills. Nobody did. And since the small crowd was overwhelmingly male I wasn't able to distract myself with looking at pretty girls. So at 5am with apologies to my housemate I left and cycled home in record time. Being in bed felt fantastic; not being able to sleep wasn't so good. I felt muggy for most of the weekend.

Meanwhile I haven't been playing a huge amount of poker, but managed to lose again on payday. Last autumn's winning months seem a distant memory.