So We're Speeding Towards That Time Of Year, To The Day That Marks That You're Not Here, And I Think I'll Want To Be Alone
--"November", Azure Ray
In honor of my team winning their first games in what seems like an eternity, here's a story about the first game I ever lost...
If you ask my friends and Peter and Dan about "endless summer", they'd tell you about how relentlessly bored we were and how often entire days would be spent in preparation of going out to eat later that night. I'm sure they'd tell you about the nights spent driving around "1979" style, looking for something to capture our interest. I'm even sure they would tell you about island hopping and of driving light's out down long stretches of highway. What I'm not sure they would tell you about or even remember is the few weeks we spent playing a small, unassuming board game called Castle Risk. But I would because those few days, even after all these years, I still look back upon and smile.
I don't want to give off the impression I get all giddy over board games. Yes, I like to play them, and, yes, I probably enjoy playing them more than most and, yes, I do think this is why a good deal of my time is spent brainstorming the next great American family card or board game. But Castle Risk is different. Castle Risk will always hold a special place in my heart for one special reason. It's the game I probably played the most with my brother Francis over the years. It's the game I think of when I think of being bored on a summer day and trying my hardest to alleviate that boredom. Frankly, it's the game I think of when I think of how close he and I used to be.
It was for this reason that, when Peter, Dan, and I could not think of something to do, I suggested the game. After all, I thought, I always had fun with my brother playing it and I didn't see any reason why the three of us wouldn't have fun playing it. So that first night I brought it over, I thought it went over like gangbusters. Not only did we have fun that night, but it was decided, that until we could think of something better, we would play it for the next couple of nights in a row. I don't know--it's a simple game entirely reliant on dice-rolling and probability to decide outcome of battles. If you think about it, that's entirely ridiculous. If people actually believed real war could be boiled down to such simple mechanics, then the war in the Gulf could be over with one all-or-nothing game of craps. However, for that time, the three of us were living that war and every six meant victory, while every one meant defeat. I cannot even begin to count the amount of hours we spent toiling away at game after game of Castle Risk.
Again, call it nostalgia, but those few days playing that game are among the last ones I can remember where the three of us hung out as a group. Since that time, people have moved on and away while some have remained the same, people have grown up and matured, and people have become former shadows of what they used to be like. Such is the nature of the beast. We were never meant to be the same people we once were. However, at the time I remember us all being in sync with one another and being a significant part of each other's daily lives.
I can't tell you how disappointed I was when those times had to come to an end.
We were playing what was to be our last game of Castle Risk at Dan's house and we were all joking about the urban legend of the guy with the hook for a hand. We were all saying how, with the wind blowing as it was and the moon barely an afterthought in the sky, it was the perfect set-up for some homicidal maniac to crash through the windows and murder us all. In much the same manner Breanne discussed how announcing one's fears gave us the ability to brush them aside, I think our joking about the issue of how plain spooky it would be to be outside allowed us the courage to go about our fun without worrying about the short walk to the car. Soon, after all the joking and conversation had subsided, it came time to put away the game and return home. Peter had given me a ride in his car and I followed him out to the passenger side.
The first mistake I made was placing the board game on top of the car in the first place. I should have made sure to place in the backseat like I had done on every occasion prior to that. The second mistake I made was forgetting I'd placed in on top in the first place. My short-term memory, if you've being attention to this blog at all, is simply atrocious. I swear I would forget my hands if I didn't have to type this. The last mistake I made was to be so wrapped in the urban legend of the hook hand guy. Maybe if I hadn't the day could have been saved.
But I did make all those mistakes so the immediate drive home went a little something like this.
----
BUMP! BUMP! BUMP!
"What was that, Peter?"
"I don't know."
"Maybe it's the hook hand guy trying to get into the car!"
"Fuck yeah, let's get out of here!"
PEEL OUT AND DRIVE HOME.
----
And that's how I lost my first game.
Sometimes I think that's the day I lost something else too. Not soon after that we all started college and went our separate ways. I stopped being home to hang out with my brother as well. I think that's the day I began feeling more and more isolated from everyone that used to be a part of my daily life. I think that's the day I started thinking maybe I really was destined to be alone. It wasn't necessarily by choice, but necessity. My logic was that I was alone so I might as well get myself accustomed to it. I stopped caring whether or not I went out with people so much. I started doing more things on my own. I started forgetting how good the good times could be when you had a circle of friends and family with you.
I was afraid to be alone
Now I'm scared thats how I'd like to be
Yeah, I lost a lot of things that day and, just as my heart sank when I went back to where Peter and I had peeled out, only to find the game nowhere to be found, it's taken a long time to get over the loss.
Some days are better than others, but there will only ever be one Castle Risk and one perfect stretch of years when playing that silly, little game made me feel like a complete person.
Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers
In honor of my team winning their first games in what seems like an eternity, here's a story about the first game I ever lost...If you ask my friends and Peter and Dan about "endless summer", they'd tell you about how relentlessly bored we were and how often entire days would be spent in preparation of going out to eat later that night. I'm sure they'd tell you about the nights spent driving around "1979" style, looking for something to capture our interest. I'm even sure they would tell you about island hopping and of driving light's out down long stretches of highway. What I'm not sure they would tell you about or even remember is the few weeks we spent playing a small, unassuming board game called Castle Risk. But I would because those few days, even after all these years, I still look back upon and smile.
I don't want to give off the impression I get all giddy over board games. Yes, I like to play them, and, yes, I probably enjoy playing them more than most and, yes, I do think this is why a good deal of my time is spent brainstorming the next great American family card or board game. But Castle Risk is different. Castle Risk will always hold a special place in my heart for one special reason. It's the game I probably played the most with my brother Francis over the years. It's the game I think of when I think of being bored on a summer day and trying my hardest to alleviate that boredom. Frankly, it's the game I think of when I think of how close he and I used to be.
It was for this reason that, when Peter, Dan, and I could not think of something to do, I suggested the game. After all, I thought, I always had fun with my brother playing it and I didn't see any reason why the three of us wouldn't have fun playing it. So that first night I brought it over, I thought it went over like gangbusters. Not only did we have fun that night, but it was decided, that until we could think of something better, we would play it for the next couple of nights in a row. I don't know--it's a simple game entirely reliant on dice-rolling and probability to decide outcome of battles. If you think about it, that's entirely ridiculous. If people actually believed real war could be boiled down to such simple mechanics, then the war in the Gulf could be over with one all-or-nothing game of craps. However, for that time, the three of us were living that war and every six meant victory, while every one meant defeat. I cannot even begin to count the amount of hours we spent toiling away at game after game of Castle Risk.
Again, call it nostalgia, but those few days playing that game are among the last ones I can remember where the three of us hung out as a group. Since that time, people have moved on and away while some have remained the same, people have grown up and matured, and people have become former shadows of what they used to be like. Such is the nature of the beast. We were never meant to be the same people we once were. However, at the time I remember us all being in sync with one another and being a significant part of each other's daily lives.
I can't tell you how disappointed I was when those times had to come to an end.
We were playing what was to be our last game of Castle Risk at Dan's house and we were all joking about the urban legend of the guy with the hook for a hand. We were all saying how, with the wind blowing as it was and the moon barely an afterthought in the sky, it was the perfect set-up for some homicidal maniac to crash through the windows and murder us all. In much the same manner Breanne discussed how announcing one's fears gave us the ability to brush them aside, I think our joking about the issue of how plain spooky it would be to be outside allowed us the courage to go about our fun without worrying about the short walk to the car. Soon, after all the joking and conversation had subsided, it came time to put away the game and return home. Peter had given me a ride in his car and I followed him out to the passenger side.
The first mistake I made was placing the board game on top of the car in the first place. I should have made sure to place in the backseat like I had done on every occasion prior to that. The second mistake I made was forgetting I'd placed in on top in the first place. My short-term memory, if you've being attention to this blog at all, is simply atrocious. I swear I would forget my hands if I didn't have to type this. The last mistake I made was to be so wrapped in the urban legend of the hook hand guy. Maybe if I hadn't the day could have been saved.
But I did make all those mistakes so the immediate drive home went a little something like this.
----
BUMP! BUMP! BUMP!
"What was that, Peter?"
"I don't know."
"Maybe it's the hook hand guy trying to get into the car!"
"Fuck yeah, let's get out of here!"
PEEL OUT AND DRIVE HOME.
----
And that's how I lost my first game.
Sometimes I think that's the day I lost something else too. Not soon after that we all started college and went our separate ways. I stopped being home to hang out with my brother as well. I think that's the day I began feeling more and more isolated from everyone that used to be a part of my daily life. I think that's the day I started thinking maybe I really was destined to be alone. It wasn't necessarily by choice, but necessity. My logic was that I was alone so I might as well get myself accustomed to it. I stopped caring whether or not I went out with people so much. I started doing more things on my own. I started forgetting how good the good times could be when you had a circle of friends and family with you.
I was afraid to be alone
Now I'm scared thats how I'd like to be
Yeah, I lost a lot of things that day and, just as my heart sank when I went back to where Peter and I had peeled out, only to find the game nowhere to be found, it's taken a long time to get over the loss.
Some days are better than others, but there will only ever be one Castle Risk and one perfect stretch of years when playing that silly, little game made me feel like a complete person.
Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers
posted by mojo shivers @ 1:28 AM
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