The Game

Hamburger, acrylic on canvas, 1985/86, by Andy Warhol

The game comes down to one thing, and it has nothing to do with winning, just surviving.  Akin to a slalom course set on an icy hillside, the goal is to navigate through one lane to the next, skirting obstacles that loom up from hidden positions.  The real crux, is that each obstacle is attempting to do the exact same thing as you are, whether in compromised or advantaged positions, they careen and jockey for a viable lead.  There is no certain win to be found, only a respite from the game.

The whole strategy shifts dependent on something 30 km away happening.  One bumper meets another in an unsanctioned union, or that which is meant to remain in contact with the ground discovers a brief moment of flight ending in pain.   A major artery is clogged at this point, meaning the pent up pressure is diverted off onto another, creating a chain reaction that brings everything to a near standstill.   And the news only gets worse as minutes slip by adding into hours.

The end point waits, steady as an oak, swaying with the buffeting winds about it.  In between these rotational poles exists the turmoil, the congestive uncertainty about what is wanted or desired.   “More!” is the usual refrain, “More time”, “More money”, “More power”, or “More control”.    Each with a keen eye focused on individual goals, the flow retreats, then floods forward in extreme tides of action.   The shells and detritus that litters the ground between each tidal wave, exposes the discarded hopes  to be collected by gulls and combers.

Sure it sounds dour, but not really.  Probably the most natural thing in the world, if not the whole universe.  Aren’t our actions, no, actually our bodies, nothing more than microcosms and spindles of that immense thing that pops out during a clear night sky?   So bullocks those that claim they are outside the game!  Everyone is playing it long before birth, and long after death, until in fact it all purrs to a silent and empty star lit night.

wbh

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About Sarah Seager

I am an artist that works and lives in the wilds of Los Angeles.
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