sidebrow

from Dead Letter Game

The habit of repetition is the first object: that pattern of threes, for example, but other strategies emerged too, the worst requiring an exhaustive self-emulation to the point of emotional breakdown. And often some cataclysmic event was required to break the spell, or I’d go on in some mode indefinitely, convinced that I had cracked the code when really I had simply found yet another way to rally behind old habits dying hard.


One must practice, true, but things went wrong when the object disappeared behind a series of rote duplications. Copies of copies of copies, ad inf., until the illness came or someone knocked on the door.


Which brings me to the second object: love.


It’s rather embarrassing, but I have to ask: When young, how else begin? What else motivates so readily? Death, maybe, but not with so many bills to pay. Love is cheap, or rather easy to please, and for a while it makes the game worth playing.


True, winning in most games is the object, but love is the object worth winning for. When this game finally turns over (as promised), I’ll find a way to love it and maybe you will too.


Love repeated; repetitious loves; love’s repetitions, etc. This game recreates (does not repeat!) the patience with which I lived out those days, in love and repetition, always on the lookout for the next good move.