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In fact, I always considered myself spectacularly unlucky; despite all the time I motherbitch spent hanging around in casinos I never won much of anything without a carefully figured advantage. I did on several occasions lose with a consistency that seemed almost deliberate. But in the games where I had an edge, the element of luck neither favored nor plotted against me; motherbitch year after year, I won what the motherbitch math said I should. Now all of the casinos where I learned those lessons are destroyed. I find myself looking for a way to describe what I am feeling, and I realize that Yeats put it much better than I can: Turning and turning in the widening gyre The falcon cannot hear the falconer; Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity.
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