Solitaire

isomorph December 11, 2024 at 22:22 1 views 0 comments
Solitaire
This is my story. Aren’t we always self-obsessed with our own story? Civilized, modern, industrialized humans are born to be selfish and self obsessed with our own story - to be the hero of our own story. If we succeed at that, then we think we are a hero to everyone within our solipsis. Somehow, that idea is supposed to give us hope. The hero saved the day. Or, the hero will save the day. Or, the hero is saving the day. What did Elliot say about time present, time past, etc., or whatever? The concept ‘hero’ somehow gives hope to endure. Hope for what? Someone told me that hope is not required to survive, but courage is, because hope needs a great deal of self-deception to survive. I remember some poem about a guy extemporizing on an instrument of his own creation: he built a musical building from notes produced on his organ, but “it is gone at last, this palace of music I reared.” Is that all that these hero stories are? Well, this is my story and I’ve never seen myself as a hero, even in my own story. I don’t think I have ever become invested with any hero story, though I have tried. Everyone else was doing it, so they must know something that I don’t know, so I tried it. Was that like Gautama’s story? He became invested in others’ stories to the point that he knew more than his teachers, only to find out that they didn’t really know the story.

This I my story. I’m no hero. I have certainly never been mistaken for the Buddha, or any kind of hero. Apparently, my story ends with me playing solitaire almost all of the time now. My mother taught me how to play. When I came home from grade school, I found her always playing solitaire on the big claw-and-ball-foot oak table in the kitchen. Her work had been completed for the day until her little task came home, so she played solitaire. Once I had grown a little, that massive oak table grew a little smaller, year by year; but the memory was massive, so it took a great deal of conceptual space in my mind. Looking at the same table later in my life, it did not appear to be the same table, and it was so much smaller than the memory. And now when I play solitaire, isn’t it the same as when she played? She used real cards on a real table. I’m playing on my ‘desktop’ with ‘cards’ that flip and flop, and move with the click of a button. The ‘click’ is real, but the desktop and the cards aren’t real. I suppose ‘real’ is not the right word, but analog and digital. My mother’s solitaire was analog and my solitaire is digital. Doesn’t that sound like the musical building constructed of notes that are heard and then gone, never to be known in that particular context again, but only known in memory. Yes those notes could have been recorded and replayed, or some genius musician could have heard the notes and played them from memory, maybe so well that it might be hard to know in one’s own memory which was the original. But that is not the original.

So, this is my story, I don’t mean the story of my life, I mean the story I am telling you. There is no hero. We’ve established that I’m no hero and there is no hero in this story. There isn’t much left this late in life that I can still do, so I play a lot of solitaire. It’s not my mother’s solitaire, or even the memory of my mothers solitaire, but I can play it because she taught me how to play, though not this digital game I play. I suppose the memory of my mother playing and teaching me to play solitaire is something like me playing this digital solitaire, except that it will never be as massive as that old oak table, or as massive as the memory.

When I started playing this digital solitaire and I would lose, the next game that came up seemed to be mocking me and the deck was stacked against me because I just lost. I came to realize that there was no algorithm behind the game that was plotting against me, it was just the game that existed. I learned some ‘tricks’ to help me win a few games; but, I was never going to win them all. Early on, I decided to play the hand that was dealt, and I learned that there are some hands that are not winnable no matter what tricks were employed. Some hands were completely non- starters; you could go through the deck and there would be absolutely no plays. The red light would come on without having been able to use one card from the deck. Some hands were complicated, but moving some piles around, and maybe bringing a card down from the finish pile you could make some more moves and save the hand. Sometimes the red light would come on and I would keep playing to make more moves. The red light would stay on but I know I had some more moves. I made my moves and sometimes I would win, but sometimes I still lost. The game isn’t always right.

I decided on certain parameters after I had been playing for awhile. I would never bring a card down just because I could. I never brought any card less than a four down from the deck as a general rule unless the lower card allowed me to make more moves. When I first started playing, I would play low cards from the deck, but I found out that those plays often trapped me in a dead-end, so I decided to move nothing lower than a four card. I’m sure there are other players who are better than I am who might laugh at the way I play, but in the end, nobody is going to win all of the hands that are dealt. Anyway, I’m only playing to pass the time. How I played depended a lot on how I was feeling. I would always play, but sometimes I would just sit and keep running through the deck even though the red light said I had lost. Over and over again, flipping cards and staring at the red light.

Other times, I could get a run of winning hands. Like I said, some hands are not winnable, while many hands can be manipulated into a win if you can see the moves. Also, there is always the option of checking out of the game if you see that you have no winning hand, but I decided some time ago not to do that - just play the cards as they come. I never thought much about my score, I just played and tried to get to the point that I could hit the auto button and watch the cards fly up the the finish pile and ‘YOU WIN’ would flash on the board. I noticed that I got some high scores and I don’t know what I did differently, so I started trying to get those high scores again, but when I win I usually get 29,000, or there about. My high score was over 51,000 in 88 moves, but I don’t remember doing anything differently. I never remember being ‘in the zone’. It doesn’t matter now because I’ll never get the high score again. With the cataracts I can’t see the moves or even recognize the cards sometimes. I don’t have the pattern recognition anymore.

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