The internet can be a fluffy place. One of the ways that’s evident is in the circulation of whimsical games, some of which help people learn about each other in trivial or not-so-trivial ways. It’s rare that I’m up for this sort of thing. I’m not a sheep-thrower by inclination. It usually depends on who asks, or on some notional value. Having made the decision to participate, I’m going to make a semi-serious effort, give it an evening, see what I can come up with. Given that I’m unlikely to do this sort of thing again, I want this one to be nominally interesting, with a bit of randomness for good measure.
This game is based partly on (the numerologically significant) 7 items, and whimsically on autobiographical details of some merit, or no merit. I have started by trying to factor in items pertaining to 7s, then expanding a bit in whatever direction suits a whim.
1. I was born in the 7th year of a decade, but not the 7th decade. Nor am I the 7th son.
My 7th birthday may have included cake and a game of pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey, but what I recall about birthdays of that era was missing Billy Bollinger’s birthday party. I am still sorry about that. Very much so.
My 14th (7+7) birthday may have involved clothing or albums. It passed without note, as did everything up to my 20th, when I did something involving an extraordinary quantity of hallucinogens. (More than 7, less than 14.)
For my 21st, just to remain out of step with the prevailing tendency of indulging in one’s first legal binge, I stayed sober, and have pretty much kept it that way, aside from an infamous bottle of gin in Northampton about 2 years ago.
2. I am within 3 months of having lived at my current address longer than I’ve lived at any other. This does not make me a native. I believe the record is 7 years, 5 months (+/- 1 month). This may also be a record for the longest I’ve lived in any one town, but that’s trickier to calculate, as I’ve lived in at least 40 places — including a few stints outdoors — in at least 15 towns. So the cumulative total for some towns may be several years longer than I’ve been here. So let’s stick to the one record.
3. I wish I could say that 7½ was one of my favourite movies, but that would be cheating, and in any case, within the Fellini oeuvre, I do not recall clearly which of the non-linear films (incl. Satyricon and Roma) were more my style, along with symbolic, surreal and experimental film from Herzog, Cassavetes, Greenaway, Lynch, and so many others. The point being that movies should dismantle the stereotypes of daily life rather than reinforce them. A bit like certain drugs, then.
4. Continuing the drift away from 7, but on a more factual basis, 7½ minutes represents the longitudinal and latitudinal dimensions of United States Geological Survey (USGS) ‘quadrangle’ maps. In other words, maps depicting an area 7½’ north-south, and 7½’ east-west, 1/8th of a degree in each direction.
7½’ quadrangle maps themselves have no special significance for me, aside from having enjoyed poring over them at various times and places. But maps more generally are significant in that I am frequently engaged in trying to represent social and spatial relationships in two and three dimensions, and in that I keep hoping I’ll manage the production and installation of several as an experiential exhibit some day.
5. Overtly embodying one’s contradictions is a noble pursuit. It’s no good for the purposes of career development or wider social acceptance, but it does keep one on one’s toes. I’ll leave you to speculate on how that reveals something central to the way I was raised, the person I am.
6. Since we have arrived at no. 6, and have been discussing degrees of distance, it’s logical to mention a few people within my 6° of social separation. In addition, by doubling the aforementioned 7½ minutes we can also drag in my 15 minutes of fame.
Since that 6 degrees encompasses everyone on the planet, it’s sensible to restrict consideration to people within 1 or 2 degrees. But even then, the people I’d mention are not celebrities. They would include my siblings and a few friends. People who know something about me, rather than the other way round. In other words, fame is inversely proportional to recognition, and I apologise if this comes as a disappointment, but I’ve nothing to offer on that topic. Next!
7. As a tonic for the previous two items, let us return to a straightforward item relating to a seventh. Pick the first theme that comes to mind. 7″ vinyl? Okay, you’re on. Have I mentioned records already?
The first 7″ I owned was a gift from my mother called The Ugly Bug Ball. It may have been Burl Ives singing for a Disney movie.
Conversely, the first 7″ I bought was something by Jefferson Airplane called Mexico/Have You Seen The Saucers? Similar, but different, if you know what I mean. And Julian’s right about the way she sang.
Some years later, my collection of singles was expanded significantly through a shop called Singles Going Steady where I latched on to the likes of Wire, Colin Newman, Delta 5, Snakefinger, Tuxedomoon, Sub Pop, Romeo Void, Gang of Four, Flying Lizards, The Teardrop Explodes, Orange Juice. Catchy pop tunes. With a difference.
It’s been at least ten years since I acquired a single, and what comes to mind is not a vinyl 45 but a magazine pullout on something like polythene, 7 inches square rather than round. Was it something from National Geographic? Was it music, spoken word, or a sonic artefact? I don’t recall.
8. I’m not much for going by rules. See No. 5 above.
9. Is there a way of adding a different dimension, a new value, to this game? Can I ask, then answer, a question that shifts the focus and the insight away from the light-hearted, towards a point of sober reflection?
For example, can I say something that sums up what I’ve learned in my time here? Can I say something that reflects positively on my experience of this place over the last 7 years? For example, I could say that I’ve learned how easy it can be to rally people into creating something shared. I’ve observed that at a distance rather than as a result of my own efforts, so it’s not a personal insight.
Closer to home, I have learned that many people respond well to lightly-structured, improvised learning environments where the focus is on the individual and her concerns rather than on the delivery of statistically relevant materials. I’ve learned that people are often surprised to be treated as individuals, whether they are on the giving or receiving end. Students and clients are surprised when I engage them on a personal level, as are bus drivers, counter staff and clerks. Maybe it makes their experience a bit less anonymous, a bit less atomised. Maybe it breaks the rules they’ve come to expect.
10. Let’s mix this up with another game. I have always called it Telephone. It starts with one person whispering a sentence to another, who in turn whispers to a third, who repeats it to a fourth, and so on. The sentence eventually returns to the first person, who then recites the initial and final versions. My take on that game is to modify the sentence as much as possible when passing it along. So that’s what I’m doing with this game: passing it along to one person, with the original rules modified as follows.
The rules are: a) do it by sevens; b) avoid mentioning factoids, mundanities, accomplishments, identifying particulars; c) wind it round upon itself, iteratively; d) break (or ignore) each rule at least once; e) try to make it upbeat, interesting, random, coherent, informative; f) remember that some of (your) story is already public; g) make up a rule for the next person; h) tailor it to suit yourself.
Done.
Edit: should I have added one more rule - keep it as short as you like? I don’t suppose anyone else would be inclined to spend an evening at this.
Tagged play webgames social
