I don't think there's some ground of material being
from which games arise -- not "being human,"
for that, in itself, is a game we play (one of the
bodies-on-a-planet games). When I read of
"Poets Against War," I think, "Why take
man's war games away from him?" but say
nothing much, for Poets Against War
must have their games as well.
But some games mess up the playing field,
destroy the possibility of future games.
War can get out of hand when we forget
it's supposed to be fun -- had you forgotten? --
like standing before the attacking warriors,
daring them to come near, seeing how many
I can touch without harming them -- "counting
coup" -- kitchee kitchee coup! Dying
can be heroic; pain can tell us we're alive.
And all that motion -- Christ! Peace time is
a drag. But when it's no longer fun? When
you're no longer a game maker or even
a player, just a broken piece? Here's
the rule: No one will relinquish a game
(any being better than none) until given
another game, as good or better, to play.
Note: "Kitchee kitchee coup" might be a lake in Longfellow's
"Hiawatha," but isn't. I'm simply toying with baby talk
again (gitchee gitchee goo), and suggesting that teasing the enemy
by touching, not harming, is like toying with a baby. But since
"kitch" has it's own meaning (kind of campy, corny, slightly
pseudo culture, a bit too Hollywood, etc.), a kitchy coup would
might be the takeover of Victoria's Secret.
The best summary I know of what a game is and how games relate
to living is in the opening chapters of the book of a book available
in most bookstores and libraries and at the following link: