Vidyah Mode

Someone asks me if I’ve played Attack from Mars on the Switch and it takes me a moment to understand what those words mean. Reflexively I say, “No, I haven’t played video game pinball.” Before even finishing the sentence I laugh out loud at how wrong I am. My initial brush with the silver ball is an NES cartridge labeled simply PINBALL. Age eight, I played that game nonstop until I mastered it and, as with my taste in real-world pinball, the mini games were of particular interest. My statement is also silly because most modern pinball machines are just giant video games with overly complicated controllers.

I don’t relay any of these thoughts to my acquaintance because she’s already moved on. “I’ve played Mars on it and I swear it’s made me better at the game,” she states enthusiastically. I smile and utter platitudes. It seems obvious that learning the mechanics on a computer would improve most peoples’ games. Score is not the only indicator of skill but it might be the most obvious one. I’ve seen total amateurs achieve competitive scores in their first game by just not draining. I express vague doubt at the overall gain and leave out the part where you can’t open-hand slap a Switch. “My current partner has played the video game non-stop,” she continues confidently, “and his score has gone from a few hundred thousand to three billion on the real machine. That can’t be a coincidence.”

Saying a video simulation makes you better at pinball is like assuming you’d get better at playing guitar via Guitar Hero. There are certainly skills that translate between both things such as basic rhythm but no one is going to learn how to play actual music with four buttons. I believe pinball has the same amount of nuance. Being able to time a nudge or anticipate a bounce isn’t something Nintendo controllers can replicate. I smile and posit, “Practice is practice.”

“If you want to play with us sometime you are more than welcome,” she offers sweetly.

Still smiling, “Thanks, I’ll save that experience for when I don’t live in the center of the best pinball city in the world.”

I went home for New Year’s Eve. It’s only been three years and this neighborhood is the only home I know now. Especially funny because I have to move this summer.  Either find a roommate or consider a different area. I’ve always said if I can’t live downtown then I probably won’t live in Seattle. I don’t know if that will hold true or not. Given the social constructs in this tiny little city it’s unlikely I’ll find someone to live with that loves me. After going on 18 years living with my cat, it’s going to take some adjustment. I can settle for someone that’s just polite and responsible. Bonus points if we marginally like each other. Continue reading

Safecracker

Safecracker draws people in on a primal level. A simple objective, mysterious board game, and of course the lure of shiny coins. Fundamentally, that little gold disc popping out of the machine is the closest most people can get to tangibly winning a pinball game. And then there’s the BOGO drink. In my experience, very little about getting that coin is directly related to being good at the game. Regardless, pretty much everyone smiles in delight when Candy shuts up and shows you the money.

Gold doubloons notwithstanding, I keep playing for a different reason. It’s deceptively simple, Safecracker teaches you to stop fearing drains the same way Fathom teaches you to embrace outlanes. Persistently firing balls no matter how many attempts are made, she rewards patience with time. From, there you have the freedom to try whatever you want until the clock runs out. A unique meditative opportunity amid glorified chaos, the single player experience is unparalled.

Needing laundry money and new to pinball, $2 for five games seemed like a solid investment. That’s how I chose Safecracker. I never anticipated how deep it would go. A recovering rage quitter from ages past, Safecracker taught me how to relax and have fun playing games again. I played that specific machine for nearly three months before branching out into pinball on the whole. When I did move on to Medieval Madness and Addams Family, my sense of control felt amplified. Safecracker’s compact playfield is more like a tricycle than training wheels. Getting on a big-boy machine after that is liberating and dangerous, comparatively.



1,5,4,3,2, Six Switch.

Just as obvious as I could ask for.

I’m the troll of prophecy. Shunned and alone, I adopt the ancillary lifestyle with verve. Who else will watch your dog while you go home for the holidays? I’m there to make sure one employee works Christmas Eve. Adopting the best part of the holiday as my own, drinking.

I didn’t consider the long term effect when I got my tattoo. All I knew at the time was how much sense it makes. Now I’m the zebra girl. Not the worst moniker but certainly not a goal I’ve sought.

All I want is someone to make out with on a semi-regular basis. Something solid enough to last more than a week. Someone warm enough to be honest.

It’s more likely I mistakenly snog someone unwitting. January will be lonely either way.

I spent the summer trying to find other people to love. Given my lack of dowry, I didn’t find more than a few tramps looking for a score. I ooze talent but can’t offer anything until a basic credit check. Don’t blame me, a girl does what she can. In the end, I’ve had glorious orgasms by myself. I’ll miss my cat more than any fleeting romance.

Suicide Doll

I’ve lost my phone and I know my cat is dying.

Tonight I asked for a ride home and he said yes, begrudgingly. He was there with a girl. Not something I expected. Climbing into the back seat of his two door jeep, I mentally face-palm myself for my own ignorance. He only fucked me that one time. Why would I think it meant something. I should know, given my appearance, no one can take me seriously.

Why don’t I just give up? There’s nothing serious here. I’m right back where I started and all I have is the shreds of dignity I’ve knitted together with optimism and fortitude. My story still bums people out and I’m not achieving any of the goals I set forth. If anything, I’m wasting oxygen. I don’t see any reason to try, given the inevitable outcome. I wish euthanasia was legal just so I could put my last bit of money toward an easy cleanup. There is no greater gift than minimizing inconvenience toward your family and friends.

BrolaB

A few small bitters in my tea but overall it’s a sweet brew. That’s all I can say about my time working on Capitol Hill. Continue reading BrolaB

Flamingo Stuttering

You came in the first day I worked alone at Raygun. I watched you play pinball out of boredom more than any interest in what you were doing. I remember noticing your tree pose and wondering if you do yoga. My crush was instantaneous and obvious. Also easily dismissed because of the dichotomy between us. Tacit admiration and friendly banter is all I ever expected. That day, you got a ball stuck in Taxi and charmed me into sliding the glass back so you could dislodge it. Assuring me it was a harmless fix, I was chastised for my actions later.

I encountered you sparingly after that. Discovering my own love of pinball in Belltown, I still don’t think I’ve ever seen you at Shorty’s. For me, the game quickly escalated from pastime to hobby to passion. Playing pins is something I do to relieve stress. A form of escapism, if I’m listening to music it literally transports me to another plane. When I’m playing no one can fuck me with me because I don’t care about the rest of the world. It’s my safe space and when I’m there I’m there to play. A long term gamer, pinball is a revelation and no one is taking it away from me.

Which brings me to the part where you completely fuck me over. I’ve seen you enough to consider you a friend at this point. We played in a couple tournaments and you know people that know me. My crush on you still lurking, I know you are a flirtatious person and don’t let you disarm me in casual encounters. Then you show up next to me at Jupiter that night, looking at me like that. I agreed to play with you because I thought you knew better than to mess with me. Was it the dress? Maybe the gin? Perhaps you were just in a bad mood. Either way you decided it was okay to try and get lucky.

Joke’s on you really. You could have used your moves on anyone else and probably gotten action. You decided to waste the impulse on me and start all this useless drama. To your credit, the aggressive making out is more than most people get so easily. Luckily, I’m a fucking lady and don’t go all in on the first date like a goddamn amateur. You are someone I’ve gotten to know for months. That night, you approached me. You kissed me. I deliberately kept a respectful distance before that. I want it noted.

Our moment of passion in the car is only a taste of the beast hiding inside of me. I’m deliberately hard to get to know. Like a tin man in the forest, incapable of interacting with anyone until they allow me to. Everyone approaches me at their own pace. I protect the people I appreciate by not letting them get too close. The friends I keep are curated from equal parts attraction and intelligence. Without heed, your bum rush sorta backfired when I didn’t fall head over heels. Now you’ve landed in the center of the arena with very little recourse. Especially because I met your girlfriend last night.

Marathon

Never stop moving. Just go from one step to the next until you’re done. That’s how I approached the impending month. Scheduled to work every day of August, I knew it wouldn’t shake out that way. Small concessions from co-workers broke it up into 3 legs – 9 days, 7 days and then 11 in a row. That leaves 4 days off, one of which was a dentist appointment. Working eight to ten day stretches feels like a relay race with my rent payment except sprinting and stopping is more like conditioning than an event. It’s not something I can do faster, I merely endure a set schedule. I come up for air by deliberately excavating free time well in advance.

The hard part of working every day isn’t the work. It’s the boredom. It’s being surrounded by people I can’t talk to. Free time is not longer a solid thing. I melt into the moments between obligation, finding time for necessity and luxury in weighted measure. Times like these, freedom is more intoxicating than the alcohol I drink to commemorate the occasion. A day off involves ceremony and certain tributes around my favorite locations. It’s important to maintain a presence when you are the most unavailable.

The strength of my family is the only thing getting me through these moments. Not my blood family, who still seem to stymie my dreams at every turn. The people I can reach out to when I need real help. My co-workers at Streamline and the handful of people I’ve met in the neighborhood. An ex-husband in Memphis and the ghosts of too many dead friends. There’s a certain bartender that likes to remind me how far I’ve come. Even some random dates have provided great companionship at just the right time. These things have laid a foundation more solid than concrete.

I met someone this time last year who just completed his first half marathon. I logically asked when he planned to run a full marathon. He stated that full marathons are silly because they push someone past rational physical limits. I was flabbergasted. To be clear, I don’t run for recreation. It’s a personal choice and I don’t hate on people that like doing it. But when someone chooses to run a half marathon and states that full marathons are irrational, I just assume they don’t understand the word marathon. If you’re measuring accomplishment by a specific factor, what sort of person only strives to complete half of it? This is just one of the many unanswered questions I have for a human I never got to know.