The Casino Game of Life
“Gambling is not a vice; it is an expression of our humanness. We gamble. Some do it at the gaming table; some do not. You play, you win, you play, you lose. You play.” –Jeanette Winterson
Dear very public diary,
I am writing to you from a casino. I have found that this environment sparks more creativity and inspiration within me than writing in cafes. Where else can I be found, on a Tuesday night, surrounded by other lost souls awake and active at the ungodly hour of one in the morning, with strong wifi and a smoking deck?
The American spirit, one of true sovereignty, the ultimate freedom to indulge in various vices, beats strongly through the neon heart of the American casino. The freedom land of the seventies, though it has been pierced through the heart by modernization and increased politicization of thought and ideas, is still alive and breathes shallow breaths upon the smoking deck of the MGM grand, a place more magical to me than Disneyland.
And in the master's chambers, they gathered for the feast
They stab it with their steely knives, but they just can't kill the beast
Hotel California, The Eagles
This is paradise, I think, as I gaze upon the horizon, deep into the great spirit which inhabits the sun. I toss the end of my half-smoked cigarette in the bin. The rest is an offering which belongs to the spirits of souls passed. Each ashing, a prayer to a better life, in a better world. The sun asks me to imagine one.
When she was just a girl, she expected the world
But it flew away from her reach
So she ran away in her sleep and dreamed of
Paradise
Coldplay, Paradise
It is also applicable to note, that in a sea of addicts, my demeanor does not stand me out from the crowd like I do during the day in civil society. My condition, alike their condition, is terminal. Very similarly to those within the cancer ward of a hospital, where a red band graced around your wrist indicates to everyone else you are dying, in the casino, I do not wear a scarlet letter on my forehead under the bright lights. It is invisible to the eyes of those with one thing on their minds. Their drug of choice. And it is no ordinary fix.
He deals the cards as a meditation
And those he plays never suspect
He doesn't play for the money he wins
Shape of my Heart, Sting
They slip themselves the bitter pill to get high. I slip it to myself to die. Both are considered addicts. Both of our fates, the same.
Though I do not gamble at the casino while I am here, I only smoke and write, the predicament I find myself in, (life-wise) is very similar to that of a gambling addict. I spend my waking days rolling the dice, putting myself out of my comfort zone to the point where it does not exist anymore, hoping that the grand prize of eternal, otherworldly bliss reveals itself to me, in actuality, not simply just in waking dreams or recurring night visions.
They say that life is a series of situations, and you must make the right decisions to succeed, and be granted, (by divine right) a nice, comfortable world thereupon after. As a first world society we rationalize human suffering by telling ourselves, “They did this to themselves, and because I made the right decision, I am not suffering like they are.”
In a land rich in financial abundance and natural resources, how could we be taught as children to think so cruelly?
This principle has been ingrained within us, culturally, from a very young age. The bleak doctrine of sin and punishment, karma and retribution, can be found almost everywhere in modern society, within church halls, corporate offices, shopping centers, and school corridors. Thus, we have been conditioned into playing the safest bet possible. With safe bets, there is low risk, all the while there is little reward.
Some “get it right” from a young age, follow the rules, play the game of life and winning fair and square. Some learn how to cheat and take everything for themselves without consequences. Some cheat and get caught, and some never do, living the rest of their lives with an overwhelming guilt that consumes them.
Some don’t really care which way the roulette turns, only if their personal void is temporarily filled by a fleeting high.
The unlucky ones play the game and lose everything, and are devastated for the rest of their lives. The lucky few who play the game and win, sometimes get lost and never return from the illusory nature of the game.
No matter the outcome, that’s life, I suppose. However, what happens after it’s all over? Do those who win continually seize the glory of their triumph? Do those who lose continue to suffer from lack and despair?
I am determined to win, with the help of a little luck. It seems as though, as I’ve gotten older, I have come to terms with my suffering because I know I can cash it in at the cashier at the casino of life for prizes such as otherworldly wisdom and strong intuition.
Let’s say you do win it all. (In a hypothetical world.)
What would you have gained in this experience? What would you have lost and wish you had back, instead of the illusory riches that lie in front of you?
Perhaps it is not the idea of winning that keeps the sea of unfortunate souls trapped in an infinite cycle of suffering, winning and losing, ensnared under the sleeping spell of forced air and unlimited complimentary beverages in the casino.
Perhaps it is the joy of playing the game itself, that keeps the great, eternal spirit of humanity alive, through vice and indulgence, even in its dark days, where human ignorance perpetuate continual suffering of sentient Earthly beings, and early deaths for the innocent become commonplace, it is somewhat soothing to know in a world such as ours, something so simple as a game can resurrect what was once thought to be lost fragments of the innocence we once knew as youths.
"The tragedy of war is not only the lives that are lost, but also the innocence that is forever changed.”
War And Remembrance, Herman Wouk
If there is life after death for those players who venture into the unknown, perhaps it is so spectacular that it made life on Earth to be amounting to nothing more than a long, strange dream (of sorts).
Xoxo
Baby Groupie
[Waking Up In Vegas, Katy Perry, Lyrics]
You've gotta help me out
It's all a blur last night
We need a taxi 'cause you're hungover and I'm broke
I lost my fake ID but you lost the motel key
Spare me your freakin' dirty looks
Now don't blame me
You roll the cash out
And get the hell out of town
Don't be a baby, remember what you told me
Shut up and put your money where your mouth is
That's what you get for waking up in Vegas
Get up and shake the glitter off your clothes now
That's what you get for waking up in Vegas
Why are these lights so bright?
Did we get hitched last night dressed up like Elvis?
Why am I wearing your class ring?
Don't call your mother
'Cause now we're partners in crime
Don't be a baby, remember what you told me