far too much writing, far too many photos

[continued from previous entry]

I stepped back out into summer sunshine thinking about card games, found myself remembering two games in particular that I’d been affiliated with, both long gone, both based in Cambridge, Mass., during the years I called that part of the world home.

First: a monthly game organized and hosted by G., my best buddy, one I became part of during the year and a half he and I shared the top floor of a 3-family building in West Cambridge, a stone’s throw from Fresh Pond. One attended mostly by local theater folk (logical given G. worked as a director, me as an actor — and when I say I worked as an actor, I mean I actually at times lined up paying gigs, situations that thrilled the bejesus out of me despite the pay being less than world-class), including some affiliated with the more respectable, prestigious corners of that world, and one no longer working in that world, having shifted into television (the local Faux affiliate, working as an anchor in the local Faux News broadcast, probably making more $$$ than the rest of us put together). A game I think had a fairly long history before I happened along, G. and I the most constant attendees during my tenure. Low stakes — nickels, dimes, quarters. Which suited me just fine. The point, mostly, was a good time, though if one attendee kicked ass in a serious way on any particular night, gloating of a loud, exaggerated kind was accepted. Stacks and stacks of low-stakes chips provided the same glee as mounds of chips representing big bucks would, with the added benefit that each player’s stake was $5.00, guaranteeing no one would leave the table in dire economic straits.

The game didn’t feature much in the way of serious alcohol intake (though every now and then someone would show up armed with a bottle of hard stuff and fill a shot glass from it a few times). Ditto re: cigars. Plenty of junk food and conversation, though. Fun.

After a year, year and a half, G. began shifting his life to N.Y.C., attempting to get more serious about his directing career (and, I think, his life in general). The game became less regular, finally vanishing altogether when G. made the shift to the Apple as a full-time thing. Or at least vanishing in relation to me, G. having been my link. He disappeared and the rest of them disappeared, taking the game with them.

And me — finding myself with no roommate, a quiet flat, no card game — I got another game going. With several guys I’d known for several years. Friends, not acquaintances. A group of anywhere from four to seven that began gathering once a month, each month at a different attendee’s squat.

[continued in following entry]

EspaƱa, te echo de menos.

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