Expect a longer update on Sunday with some pics from my house with Taylor/Stinger/iRock, etc.

But for now, I'm pretty stoked to have my first ever WSOP final table sweat! Our housemate Mikey "shipitthisway" McNeil is at the FT of the $1,500 triple shootout, so we're heading over to the Rio to rail him, drink some beers, and cheer our heads off. And, of course, I have a piece :) Ship $330k one time, plz!

Can't believe I leave for Israel on Monday. I am loving it so much out in Vegas right now. I mean I am so unbelievably happy right now...it is definitely hard to leave Vegas. I'll write more thoughts later.

Love,
Ezra

I have never considered myself a professional poker player. Even after college when my sole source of income for a year was poker, I always considered myself semi-professional. Was I really good enough to consider myself a professional? For the past two years, as I performed my duties for CardRunners, it was a non-issue: I was Director of Marketing. But since May 1st, I've had no job - I'm not a student again until June 21st, and despite May being my worst poker month of 2009, I keep wondering what I am? Is it possible that for 7 whole weeks, I played poker professionally?

I've been thinking about this because of how much fun I've been having out in Vegas. I am loving the lifestyle, hanging out with my friends all day, going out at night, talking poker, thinking poker, etc. There are so many aspects of the poker world that I find utterly repulsive (I think many of the younger players do) but this summer at the World Series of Poker is just so much fun. Everyone seems happy, we're all bonding, and it just feels like one large warm community. I wish I could describe it better - I know that many of my friends, including myself, were dreading coming out to Vegas again this summer, and we're all shocked at how much we're enjoying our time out here. Learning to appreciate our lives, the impressiveness of what we're accomplishing out here, and the opportunities in front of us.

In one sense, poker is this small little niche world, largely irrelevant to any other functions of the world. Yet, at the same time, it is fascinating, intriguing, and unforgettable. I've been talking to Taylor a lot lately about how we'll look back at this period of our lives when we're in our sixties. I suspect we'll smile, and remember these times with a warm nostalgia.

So two more things of interest:

1. Right now I'm 35,000 feet above ground, typing from in-flight WiFi on a Virgin America flight from Las Vegas to NYC (I'm heading home for 3 days for some family issues). I am shocked at how good the wireless is. I played some poker and made $2,500 (thanks Virgin!) and the internet has only been disrupted once. It's extremely impressive, and I've been able to e-mail, IM and more.

2. Last night Taylor and I made our first appearance on "Two Months, Two Million" the reality show that Whitelime, Krantz, Ansky, and Flawless are filming. It was a small party at the Playboy Club at the Palms, and it was a pretty good time overall. It was really interesting to watch them outline the story, talk with the producers, and see how everything came together. Taylor and I made a pretty conscious decision not to drink too much so that we didn't end up doing something stupid on camera (yeah, we're lame like that...) I did lose $100 to freakin Joe Tall betting on Whitelime's weight - I thought he'd been working out everyday and was putting on some muscle, but I over-estimated things :(

Anyways, here's a still of Emil (whitelime) in the pink shirt smiling for the cameras:



Till I land,
Ezra

The past few days of the trip have gone much better than the first week. I got myself stuck about $15k in the first couple of days out here, but have turned it around pretty nicely and am now up for the trip! yay :)

I think a large part of this has to do with finally being situated in the CardRunners house (pics to follow), surrounded by brilliant poker minds, and in a comfortable atmosphere. Earlier in the trip, I'd been staying alone or crashing in people's spare beds at Bellagio, and I just don't think it was very good for my stability. It left me feeling somewhat in limbo all of the time, and I don't think that helped my poker game.

Overall, I just wasn't making many hands, so I was getting way too aggressive in a lot of spots. For example, if I raised 76 and flopped 753, I'd be playing for stacks against aggressive players. This is a pretty tragic mistake against good players, but I think I was just a bit frusterated at never flopping anything decent, and was just going all-in anytime I picked up a decent piece. Now that I'm starting to find my groove again, I'm playing much more confidently and smarter. For example, against tricky, tough players, I'm doing things like checking back overpairs on flopped coordinated boards, for example: 78T, with a flush draw - to reduce variance and also make me more difficult to play against. I always get creative when I'm playing well, but when I'm losing, I'm bet/shipping queens on that some board (which isn't horrible) but increases variance for sure, since you're rarely better than 50/50.

I played the $1k WSOP event on Monday, quickly ran up a big stack, and then ran into aces twice, and AK once to go out. I would love to play more events, but couldn't this week, because I'm flying to NYC for the weekend for my grandmother's memorial service, so it wouldn't make sense to start an event that I couldn't finish :)

I've also been playing the $5/$10 live cash games at the Rio. They are pretty good overall, but I think there's just so much more value to playing online. Now that I'm on a bit of a heater, I might start playing the $10/$25 games and see how I fare. My issue is that just can't imagine that I can make more than $250/hr in the live $5/$10 games. It's probably closer to $125-150/hour. Yes, there are some huge droolers playing live poker, but there are also generally 3-4 tough internet kids who typically steal a lot of pots - it's just tough because you need to play a lot looser in live games to get in as many pots with the poor players as possible. But because the other tough players are doing the same, it makes it basically impossible to pick up these pots when you miss. Meh.

I decided that since the $1k event was just a total scene, I was going to add to the excitement by busting out some sunglasses. I stole these glasses from Nutedawg on St Patricks Day - I bet he's been wondering where they went :)

I know that if I stay in this town long enough, I will inevitably go insane. It's just the way Las Vegas is - it is a town meant for visiting, not for living. A town meant for gambling and entertainment - but most certainly not for employment :)

And yet, there is always something so damn exhilarating about finally getting here. It may sound silly, but I intentionally try to book night time flights to Vegas because I love that unique descent into flashing lights. If you haven't experienced this ride, you must. Las Vegas is in the middle of nowhere, truly. You see nothing but pitch black darkness for a full sixty minutes before approaching Vegas. And then all of a sudden, your plane banks to the left, and lights sprawling further than any eye can see emerge beneath you. It's a city that shouldn't exist. There are natural causes for why this town should have been populated, and yet it has. There's just something special about Vegas.

More to the point, I know I love Vegas because I'm losing right now. I am running awful, having horrible luck, losing gigantic pots as 95% favorites, and yet I'm happy. I'm happy to be around my friends, getting caught up in the hoopla of the World Series of Poker. After my third horrendous day of the trip, I walked back to my room, somewhat sulking and feeling a little sorry for myself. And then I realized that I'm staying at the Encore, the nicest hotel in Vegas, and possibly a top 5 hotel in America. My room is gorgeous - hell my hotel room is larger than my apartment in Chicago. And I'm complaining? What right do I have to feel sorry for myself when my days consist of playing a game that I love, living luxuriously, and staying young with my friends. It's so silly to get caught up in losses or the craziness of it all. In a world of tough times, I have to appreciate when things are truly good.

The first time I ever came out to Vegas, I had turned 21 just 3 weeks before. I stayed at Treasure Island, and was in awe of the Wynn. My parents took me see Avenue Q at the Wynn - I was intimidated by the hotel. The nicest place in Vegas...gorgeous surroundings, perfectly polished floors...would I ever be able to stay there? Would I ever be able to roam the halls with such successful people? And now that I do, and now that the Wynn/Encore are just a routine, it's so easy to forget about earlier thoughts. I believe that success is extraordinaly important for my life. But I also believe that it can be extremely dangerous, when we lose sight of our definitions of success.

I don't know if my life is a success, just yet. But I do know that it's genuinely amazing.

Love,
Ezra Moses

Okay, I admit it - my game is rusty. I didn't play poker for about two weeks, because my attention was fixed elsewhere. It's kind of startling to me how easily I'm able to forget about poker when there are opportunities or people that appeal to me far more than sitting behind a computer :) On the surface, this shouldn't really be surprising. But when I'm alone, I spend the bulk of my free moments playing or thinking about poker. So the fact that I'm just as easily able to drop it, makes my wonder why I emphasize it so much during my free time. I don't know the answer...it might simply the money, it might be desire to improve and get better. And it might just be that poker is how I react to free time. I know so many people that spend their free time lounging on the couch watching TV - I'd rather spend that same time earning money and challenging my mind.

So why do I say I'm rusty? Well, after 2+ weeks off the game, I auto-dropped 10 buyins attempting to make a return. It was actually kind of startling how poor I felt about my game. Now admittedly, I ran pretty atrociously, but my reads were off and my timing was horrendous. So last night, after Shabbat, I decided to get my head on straight, drop down in stakes and play until I'd found my groove again. I promised myself nothing above $600 NL (and obv I was multi-tabling $5000NL a few hours later) but whatever. As expected, I dropped about $4k playing 6 tables of $400 and $600NL which was annoying. But I hunkered down, continued to grind, and clawed my way to back to the green.

Around this time, I noticed that a huge fish from the mid-stakes games was clearly tilted and deciding to kamikazee his way to riches or bust at the $5000NL tables. I'd told myself nothing above $600NL, but couldn't pass up open seats directly to his left, so I short-bought for $1,500 on the tables, and just tried to play super tight. I got some cards, made a few thousand at the higher stakes tables, and continued to win in other games ultimately booking a ~$5k win. It was really gratifying to pound through a few thousand hands and to feel like my game was starting to feel sharp again. It's something that I haven't done in a long time, and I always enjoy a challenge like this.

To anyone who's not in the poker world, it might sound insane that after a mere two weeks, I'm talking about my game being rusty. But that's just the way it is...the players online are so good and so tough these days, that if you're not playing every single day, you're at a disadvantage. The games and reactionary tendencies of opponents are actually changing every week, if not every day. It's kind of startling, but online poker is cutthroat. That doesn't mean it's not beatable for someone looking to work hard - it most certainly is. But with so many talented young people in the game, I don't think you can win in mid-stakes games without spending at least 5-10 hours/week thinking about, analyzing, and breaking down your hands.

So....on to my 2009 WSOP goals. I will be out in Vegas for only about three weeks, and won't be able to play many events. I figure I'll focus on the cash game action and try to make a run in some of the juicer 10/25 and 25/50 games.

Goals:

1. Don't go insane in Las Vegas like I have the past two years.

2. Successfully figure out how to wire money to the Bellagio.

3. Concentrate when playing WSOP events. They may be all day patience festivals, and I need to work on staying calm. I always try to play too many hands, and outplay people. I never give anyone credit in WSOP tournaments. This is why I always run up stacks at the beginning, only to incerinate them in epic fashion. FOCUS FOCUS FOCUS. PATIENCE PATIENCE PATIENCE. Care about your money - these tournaments have huge payouts - often over $500k for first. Why don't you care more?!

4. Win $50,000 in cash games - between online and live in the 3 weeks I'm out there.

5. Work on improving my live poker game - talking more at the tables, trying to manipulate opponents with my speech.

6. Have fun, make new friends, and uphold my dignity. Las Vegas is a foolish place, and I'd like to think I can carve out my own niche of tranquility in an otherwise pulse throbbing city.

Anyone have any good suggestions for goals?

Holla,
Ezra Moses

PS - thanks for all the comments on last blog post. Interesting that dividing by zero almost goes unnoticed.

Thoughts? Source is the book Zero by Charles Seife

Let a and b both be equal to 1. Since a and b are equal:

b² = ab

Because a equals itself:

a² = a²

Subtract equation 1 from equation 2:

a² - b² = a² - ab

Factor both sides of the equation:

(a + b)(a - b) = a(a - b)

Divide both sides of the equation by (a - b)

a + b = a

Subtract a from both sides and we get:

b = 0

But we set b to 1 at the beginning, so:

1 = 0

Short and quick blog update...

Lying on my couch in Myrtle Beach. Got upgraded to a sick 2 bedroom condo, with a wraparound balcony...It is pretty badass. I've played about 30 minutes of poker and have basically broken even to the penny. Luckily I've been luckboxing pretty hard in the stock market and have recouped a TON of losses from the past year. Not worrying about money for once feels really nice...it's basically all anyone's been talking or thinking about for the past year (myself included, sadly)...

Anyways, I'm here till at least Sunday and might extend things for a day or two because the big water park here is opening on Sunday, and I realllllllllllllllly want to go.

Wells, the holy moly sabbath is about to start, so I have to go shower up.

Mmmph I love being at the beach :) Views from my balcony in the next update.

(Sorry this update is the stink)

Ezmo

I basically took two weeks off poker to spend time with with my family for the Passover holiday and then with my girlfriend. I guess it must've done some good to take a poker break, because I'm having one of my best weeks ever (it's actually only been 4 days) booking a little over $20k in wins. I won a ton of coinflips, and was the beneficiary of getting some mediocre setup hands versus bad players (good players might've lose 25% of their stack - these bad players lost 100%). Feels pretty good, especially because it was all at $5/$10. So yay for poker. Hopefully I won't lose it all :)

So I had a reservation to Cancun on May 4th, but I've effectively cancelled it due to swine flu fears. When I write "effectively," I mean that I've cancelled the hotel, but the airline refuses to take anyone's calls. I wish I were joking, because it sounds absurd, right? I understand that there's mass hysteria and they're likely understaffed, but it's not even like anyone can get into the holding system. When you call the number, they just start giving you weirdo error messages. The airline is AIR MEXICANA, and I would recommend against flying them in the future. I'm sure they're all nice people, but they've been extraodinarily unhelpful via live chat and e-mail, and no one can get through on the phone to them. I even talked to the Orbitz Vacation Reps last night, who was helpful but couldn't get through to Air Mexicana either. I decided to take a flier, and ask if he'd actually gotten through to them at all that day. There was this awkward pause after which he responded "actually sir, no one has been able to get through to them since we started our shift at 4pm." The time I was talking to him? 12:30am - 8.5 hours. How can I cancel my flight if I can't get through to them. If I get charged the flight because the line is too busy, I will demand a charge back on my credit card. No idea if that will actually work. Any thoughts? I know I'm being whiny, but it's the principle of the thing.

Anyways, I've decided to re-book and hang out in Myrtle Beach instead. We'll be staying at the Anderson Ocean Club which is supposed to be one of the best resorts in the area. I honestly have no idea if Myrtle Beach is fun for young people, but I guess we'll find out :) If you're a CardRunners member and want to hang out, just drop a comment and I'll try to get in touch with you via PM. Also, if anyone's been to Myrtle and has some recommendations, that'd be hot.

Okay, that's all for now. I'm gonna finish up my work at the office and then head home to finish packing up my apartment. I will miss you Chicago :(

Ezra

Mark my words.

I. will. make. this. blog. great. again.

I've had so many interesting stories over the past two months that I couldn't mention because of my HPSML series. Oh wells. It's not the end of the world for some stories to remain hidden forever.

Right now I'm lying in my bed about to zonk out. It was a long day - my first day back in the CardRunners office after a three week hiatus. It is weird that I am leaving. Oh so very, very weird.

I basically hadn't played poker in two weeks, because I'd been spending time non-stop with my girlfriend. Time with her is so much better. Over the past two nights I've played about 2,000 hands and won five figures. Life is weird. The world is in a "financial meltdown" yet in pokerville, it keeps growing on trees. The money still doesn't make me happy -- I keep expecting that to change. To be fair, winning gives me some satisfaction. But I think I'm going to try playing higher stakes. to really challenge myself.

I have a trip booked for May 4th to Cancun. But now the world fears pigs. I always knew the Jews were right. And they laugh at me for going to Yeshiva. When Shrimp Scampi Flu breaks out, all doubt will fall to the wayside. But would you go south? Is there actually real danger? Or is it all, as my Mexican customer service rep said: simply "mass hysteria."

I wish you a good night. And with a promise to blog once more.

Ezra Moses

Graduating college was one of the toughest days of my life. Unlike so many of my peers who dreamed of adulthood and its associated freedoms, I simply wanted to remain a kid. It's not that I'm not mature - I am. Nor irresponsibility, laziness, the works - it's just that I love being young. I loved being in college. I loved being in an atmosphere of unbridled potential, in an atmosphere where all students are hopeful. Excited for the future, and excited for possibility. To me, college represented potential. It was tens of thousands of energy particles crashing into each other, debating each other, looking to each for inspiration. As I sat in my room after my graduation ceremony, I cried for 10 minutes. I had no control over it. My four years of undergraduate college were unequivocally over. There were no second chances, there was no extension. I cried because I had to force it behind me, and pretend to enjoy a fundamentally different lifestyle.

That said, it soon became clear that I had overreacted somewhat. I didn't have to prepare for a job, and I didn't have to wake up at 7am. I was officially a poker player. I never called myself a "professional," because I never felt like my skills were worthy of that status. If people asked, I'd say I was taking some time off and playing cards "semi-professionally." With so much of the game being a mental experiment, being able to relieve pressure in any way is vital - this was one of my outlets - not taking myself too seriously.

After college came the World Series of Poker, after which I began travelling to a number of circuit events: Foxwoods, Aruba, Niagra Falls, Carribean Adventure in the Bahamas to name a few. My regular travel buddies were Emil Patel (whitelime), Justin Bonomo (zeejustin), Dani Stern (ansky), and a few other associated friends. This was late 2006 and early 2007 when poker was still golden - I was dabbling in games up to $10/$25 NLHE and winning at a decent clip. I don't think that I ever went on a huge tear, but I was making more than enough to live comfortably. I played a number of tourneys on my trips, and sold off action here and there to reduce variance. Life was good and I was loving it.

But as the months wore on, the allure of being a professional poker player began to wear off. The swings were epic. And the pressure seemed to crescendo into horrible nights that would negate weeks worth of hard fought earnings. I was much weaker then. I didn't have the mental fortitude that I do now. These days, I can lose $10,000 in a night, and barely be affected - it's just money, I have plenty, and I am 100% certain that I will make it back. But that wasn't always the case. I remember the first night I lost $1,000 - I didn't sleep. And the first night I lost $3,500 - running out of my apartment looking up at the sky and questioning what I'd just done. Were these overreactions? Absolutely. After all, how did I have the money to lose it? Yes, that's right, I'd won many multiples more playing. But my vision of the world, poker, and money was far more vacuous in those years. To lose money playing poker was almost sinful - think of all the good it could've been put towards.

That was a beautiful way to see the world - and anytime I tell my mother or my girlfriend my losses (which is why I don't do it anymore), I can see the same thoughts going through their heads: think of what you could've done with that money! But as a professional, or (semi-professional) poker player, you can't look at money that way. Bets are an investment. Sometimes, investments lose. Sometimes, you play badly. And sometimes, you shouldn't have been playing at all. But all of these elements factor into your winrate, your expectation, and your confidence. And after thousands of hours and millions of hands of poker, you either have the self-confidence to face your losses or you run away from them. As I've matured and experienced poker swings far more painful than I ever could've imagined, I no longer play in fear. I put my best effort forwards, and if I feel that slipping, I stop. I've always told anyone who would listen - friends, parents, students - that all you can ever do is give a project your best effort. I feel truly minimal emotion whether I win or lose $10,000 - what gives me pride, or alternately, tears at my mind, is the effort I put in. If I think I played my best, it doesn't matter how much I lose. If I played awful, got lucky and win, I scold myself. This is the best way to face the game of poker.

Unfortunately, as mentioned, this was early 2007, not 2009. And my life might be very different if I had been naturally gifted with this thought process. But I wasn't :( I was still just a kid (am I still just a kid?) and poker had been wearing me down. I wasn't as good as I knew I could be, and it was frustrating watching all my friends play higher and higher stakes, while I kept things safe at mid-stakes games. So, when the Los Angeles Poker Classic rolled around, I was determined to play the $10/$20 and $20/$40 NLHE games to really give myself a shot. Everyone had spoken of the unbelievable softness of the Commerce games and I knew I was good enough to beat them.

Arriving in Los Angeles was really exhilarating. Poker was everywhere and the Commerce Casino was buzzing with a mix of big personalities, Hollywood stars, poker stars, and thousands of amateurs. I truly felt at home in the midst of it all. The first three of four days I switched between the $10/$20 games in the casino, $5/$10 online, and whatever tournament they had running that day. My first four of five $10/$20 sessions went alright, and I think I booked a total profit of $3,000 or so - not much, but I hadn't been putting in many hours and the wins felt solid. The following night I was placed at an especially juicy table, directly to the left of two massive fish. I bought in for $6,000 (if I recall correctly) to cover both of them - and you can guess where things go from here. I 3-bet an MP open from one of the two fish to $300 holding 4d5d. The flop came all diamonds. He check/called my flop bet, and check/raised my turn bet on an offsuit ace. It was the ultimate cooler board versus the ultimate fish. I found myself drawing dead in a $10,000+ pot.

I was immediately shaken up for a number of reasons. (1) I think most online players would agree with me that it is far more painful to lose money in a casino than online. In a casino, you physically watch as thousands of dollars are pulled away from you, your pocket, once filled with cash, is now noticeably lighter. In a lot of casinos, in the higher stakes games we play with stacks of $100 bills on the table in addition to chips. It's a weird affect, and I think I play worse live, because I have to face tangible dollars at every decision. Online, if you lose a pot, you have a massive bankroll in your virtual cashier to back it up. Losing all $3,000 cash in your pocket feels far more traumatic than losing $3,000 of a $50,000 virtual bankroll. Plus, after those losses, you can pull up your Poker Tracker results to look at your lifetime, monthly, or weekly earnings - it helps minimize the pain. (2) Poker had been stressful lately, and I had been thinking about where to head next. But in Los Angeles, I was surrounded by poker friends, great restaurants, and lots of action. I had forgotten that my mind was swirling with questions of the future. Losing the pot was a wake up call. It was a reminder that while an entertaining week was pleasureful, it could only mask, not solve, my fundamental issues.

The next day I resolved to rebuild some stability in my life in the form of less travel, a home base, and a steady job. It was about two months to the day from that night in Los Angeles until my first day at CardRunners. It's one of the best decisions I've ever made, and it's quite fitting that this post is made on the two year anniversary of my tenure at CardRunners, as well as my last official day.

So, did poker really save my life? And, if so, how did poker save my life? The simplest answer is that poker taught me how to think. It forced me to handle adult issues, but allowed me to face them through a youthful framework. Poker allowed me to be different. It allowed me independence, responsibility, and potential. Without poker, there's a good chance that I would be in a large advertising firm in Manhattan. I feel like I have so many friends who are going through the motions, who think they're living, but they're NEVER taking the time to reflect on who they are, what they want, and what their emotions tell them. To a point, that's okay - it's okay when we're 19 years old. But as we approach our mid-twenties, we no longer have those luxuries. Carelessness and irresponsibility are no longer options. We have duties to ourselves - to our futures, and to our lives - to reflect on who we truly are and what we're truly doing. We don't have force ourselves to act mature, or stop getting drunk, or turn into a sea of drone-like prudes. No, no, no. We must retain our character. But we also need to think. We need to reflect. If it hadn't been for poker, I think there's a fair chance that at the age of 34, I'd look around my corner office on 34th street, look at all my accomplishments, and realize that they simply weren't accomplishments at all.

I love living. But there's a difference between action/reaction and reflection and thought. My experiences through the poker world over the past four years have forced me to reflect in a way that I doubt I would've otherwise. It's forced me to consider what's truly important - and it's allowed me to view others in a different light. I've revealed probably too much private information through the course of this story. But one thing remains hidden: who I truly am, deep down. Inside. And I have this journey to thank for allowing me its discovery.