micahsaul

…so take the time, to make the time.

Just got back from the Black Heart Procession show. So, let’s talk drunkenly about the way things ussed to be:

There was a time, not so long ago, when I’d have hated me. See, I’ve been going to the Bottom of the Hill since I was 16 or so. Scrawny emo Micah would be up at the front of the stage, dancing his little emo heart out. And every once in a while he’d look behind him and see that guy. His nemesis. The anithesis of everything that emo Micah stood for. The 20-something year old dude, wearing a black leather jacket, sipping his beer while stainding by the bar and nodding his head slowly in time with the music. And, oh man, I hated that guy. Whay aren’t you fucking dancing?! What the hell are you doing?!

And I’ve become that guy.

I’m not even sure how it happened. As recently as a couple years ago, I’d have been fighting my way to the front of the crowd to rock the shit out to one of my favorite bands. But then, I don’t know, things changed. As much as I still love live music, it just doesn’t seem as important to be right up front anymore. I can appreciate it just fine from the back of the crowd. Maybe it has something to do with my growing misanthropy (about more will be said tomorrow, likely). But tonight, I ran into an old friend and spent half the night outside, sipping my Jameson, chainsmoking, and catching up. I missed about half the show, but do not feel at all like I missed out. Am I over shows? Am I just too old to deal with that shit anymore? I don’t know. And it does not make me happy in the least.

On the other hand, at least I’m not wearing tight black jeans and a sleeveless t-shirt that says “Sorry, I only date emo boys with broken hearts” anymore. Yeah… as much as growing old sucks, it could be a lot worse. I could still be 20.

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The Game is an insidious one.  The rules are simple:
1) Do not, under any circumstances, think about the fact that you are playing The Game.
2) If you think about The Game, you have lost The Game.
3) Try to make other people playing The Game lose, without thinking of The Game.
4) If you do lose The Game, you MUST inform any other players around you that you have done so; this does not make them lose The Game. Instead, they have 30 minutes to re-forget that they are playing The Game.
5) Now you know the rules, you are playing The Game.
6) Sucker.

We’ve been talking about The Game quite a bit recently, on our smoke breaks at work, mainly pertaining to interesting ways to cause others to lose The Game. Turns out, it’s very easy to get someone to associate a word with The Game. For example, when I hear the phrase “stuck in my head” I almost immediately lose The Game. For a friend, it’s Madagascar (merely because we suggested that Madagascar would be an excellent trigger word).

The same friend used to place an electric drill in front of a co-worker’s keyboard. Somehow, this became associated in the co-worker’s mind with The Game, and would cause him to lose almost hourly.  Auditory aids also work. We have weekly catered lunches at work, and the office manager will walk through the office ringing a large metal triangle when the food arrives. The immediate response of 50 hungry tech geeks rising from their chairs and wandering towards the kitchen is often pointed out to be incredibly Pavlovian (Pavlov, by the way, is another very common trigger-word). It didn’t take very long, of course, for one Pavlovian response to become another, and I now regularly lose The Game between 12:45 and 1:15 on Thursday afternoons.

Of course, there are many other exciting ways you can force people to lose The Game, but remember: only if you are not currently losing can you win.  Good luck.

A WORD OF CAUTION, ALBEIT A SLIGHTLY TARDY ONE:

The preceding blog post should not be read if you do not want to become involved in the most evil game ever invented. Few things are sadder then losing The Game by yourself in the shower, while taking a crap, while embroiled in a deep philosophical conversation, or mid-coitus (if the latter occurs to you, it is probably not a good idea to yell “Son of a fucking whore! I just lost The Game!” This tends to not be the sort of dirty talk your partner was looking for, and it does suggest that your mind is not entirely on the task at hand). If, however, you have already read the preceding post then The Game has you in its sticky claws and you have exactly 30 minutes to forget you are playing. If you are re-reading this post, I’d like to point out that you have now lost the game.

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