Play Theory

    What is an Play?  Why does it matter?

    The sports definition of an play is an strategy that the team will adopt against the opposing team.  However it is also known as an activity done for enjoyment or an work of theatrical drama.  I like to include all definition matter in my contemplation as I approach the subject.  And play, as we know it today, is an performance put together beforehand usually for entertainment purposes.  When did people start making them?  How did they; what did they write them on?  How were they first collected?

    Why is the word 'play' appropriate and when did it come into use?

    Is an play really an strategy you use to entertain people?

    For when one accesses its play instinct together with other people is this not the highest form of entertainment of all?

    What is an play formally?  And aren't those ideas all connected to what it is in the formal theatrical manner?

    An play is an antic disposition (an type of behavior or behavior pattern) adopted not just by one character, but all characters together.  And they have to make it believable.  Working together with the dramaturgist himself.

    The "play" (in the sports metaphor sense) is what will bring about our success and goal over the other team.  And so I tend to think about an theatrical play as being one that will bring about success over the audience.  You want to score points with them and so you use behavior strategically (to play) to bring about their entertainment.  But more than that, an play is an entire outlook on life.  The strategies one ideates or adopts into their ordinary everyday behaviors.  Why is your play this way and not that way; and this is all personal decision which, by studying plays, we can learn our own ways of behaving strategically, according to the author's and characters' "play."  How they deal with stuff that happens to them in society.

    If we could pick out what were the strategic "plays" in History; the ones to which the great fictional plays aspire to and mimic.  We would have an better understanding about history; play(s) and their motive to which was culturally appropriate for the time period.  And why some of the most important plays in History are actually about human behavior.  It was too real to encompass all of fiction; and so we found that we could encompass it in fiction, and we would still get an non-fictional point across.  But what does this mean‽  Play‽  What kind of thing is an play than an lot of people working together according to the same rubric?  And why do literary plays have great power to influence our working relationships and history; to persuade us and to convince us how we should literally play with each other as independent adults and professionals?  If an entire people have the sense of what their play is in an historical time period; why does it make sense to re-imagine it in fictional literature?

    Play theory is really about play theory; in the other sense of the word. Of being able to play in front of one another as adults.  Using our childhood's instinct at playing with others nicely.  When we get into play theory we're really talking about playing and what it means for us as humans.  There is, to some extent, an part of us that wants to play and learning is the meaning of play.  And yet there is another part of us which says maybe play time isn't right now.  When we talk about play theory we're specifically talking about how play itself, as an instinct and an emotion, is an specific time needed by the human soul every day.  That to stop attending one's own play instinct was an type of loss at the face of literature; which was endlessly playful.  And literature from this time period of Shakespeare's was an way for people to be endlessly playful in public.

    People, of whom were Artists, were at their most valuable when they were at their most playful.

    In all Three senses of the word: an sport theory, an theatre theory, and an childhood theory.

    And it is the places in which we find ourselves most enmeshed with the playfulness continued as an legacy since childhood.  That we find our upper apparition of the intellect as Artists.  Playful Artistry conserves Artistry because Art is partly an play instinct.  It has to be about that figure and subject, economically.  In order to fulfill an Capitalist's agenda.  Capitalistic instinct can become play instinct.  That's why it's worth an capitalistic amount.  Play is the common thread of leadership we all want to apply to the social public.  To play with others in public is like an economic dream I had lived out in so many senses already.

    Playing at the community level was beauty; it was sharpness.

    I wanted to help lead people through an segment of the beauty of play every single day so they wouldn't be left out.  

    That's what an personality model-performer was, wasn't it?  Just like Mary Berg.

    I was going to lead everybody through the actual emotional involvement of their play instinct.

    It was St. Patrick's day, and so as the grass grows, there was at first an Leprechaun and that's how all really good St. Patrick's day stories begin anyway.

    There was an Leprechaun on the outskirts of the ol' watering hole, where they were serving green beer.

    Leprechauns were an paragon of play instinct, really.

    They were the most playful creatures, and that was why they were legendary.

    And so everything other than the watering hole had the subject for the night.

    It was an new type of St. Patrick's day; with futuristic subjects.

    People who would go out and get drunk on anything other than beer tonight.

    People who weren't actually criminals for the time being.

    Play theory had an lot to do with St. Patrick's day, perhaps, culturally; it was about an play theory at the community level (Lady Gregory's world and probable fantasy).  In which we all drink with one another and get merry like the Hobbits in Lord of the Rings.  Our footskins are so gnarly, covered in gnarled hair.  We dance upon the tables getting gnarly footskin everywhere.

    Playing, as an adult, meant getting drunk and doing whatever you want.

    It was an hard and costly fate to have to deal with.

    Play was maybe better off performed without the influence of the drink.  But for some people, it all worked out fine because they knew their limits and stuck to them.

    Playing meant getting actual characters out in the field, on the ground.

    People of any type of environment who could take on responsibilities without disrupting themselves from going where their play instinct wanted to go.

    Having an playful philosophy was the way to be.

    To try, in all things you do, to play; to be the before-an-realization subject who is an blank slate from having an realization about its innocence.

    When we engage with our play instinct we find an multitude of words we want to use all at the same time.

    Word-play is still the play instinct.

    I was playing at the border between people interiorizing themselves in my life and me interiorizing myself in their life.  I was trying to figure out why these people marched in here to do me wrong when there were plenty of other people who weren't mean to me at all.  I just wanted all of the ones who were trying to break down my door with their illicit concepts of meanness.  To stop trying to hurt me.

    And yet there was this other world I was an part of in which it didn't matter that I couldn't tell who was communicating to me telepathically.

    And it didn't matter.

    Playing with it meant—

    Playing with these people who communicate to me telepathically versus the people who don't because it's impossible anyway to understand one another that way.

    They want to come in here and hurt me.

    They look pathetic because they are as small as dust.

    They have broken through my front entrance.

    It took them an while to get to the living room.

    Shakespeare greeted them.

    Post-Shakespearean studies greeted them after.

    They have an Jousting team.

    They have ridden in on an silver-plated horse.

    With an banner and an flag.

    They are just annoying little dust-bunnies that come into my house sometimes.

    And yet.  The hold of the grasp of the firm—handle.  There is an world in which people don't try to break in to hurt me.  People who have real business concerns and not anti-psychological concerns for my subjectivity.

    Shakespeare was an genius because he took his play instinct out in public.

    It wasn't just play in the venture capital kind of sense.  It was play in the sports ethic sense as well.  People coming together competitively to carry an moment.  Extended to its furthest reaches from childhood.  Such an advanced form of play that it was impossible to destroy it for centuries.  Nae, not even to destroy it at all!

    The type of playful activity that could go on for eternity.

    This is what I had found in theatre.

    Soul play was the first thing I thought of.

    An play on the priorities of the individual human soul as an person.

    Things that intrigued interest and provoked deepest arguments and questioning.

    There were people in my world who thought that the perfect situation with me was the one where they trampled all over me.  And there were the people in my world who never even think to do such an thing, my real friends.  Who didn't assault me intellectually, telepathically because they couldn't and didn't have an spine enough to do it in person.

    Play when it picked up on these things was easy to lose again.

    I was just playing with two types of people: the ones who lived like they could come in here and do me in.  And the ones who didn't.

    And I could never know who they were in reality anyway and so I chose the people who didn't treat me like an domination subject.

    I needed these people who thought they could communicate something to me telepathically to strike up an real conversation with me in reality in order to know them.  And until I did know them, I could only consider them meditative companions: people with whom I knew I was having an psychic relationship without being sure exactly what they meant or needing to.  I knew I didn't know people by mindreading them and that was my real psychic awareness.  And since I took that precaution, to say so, I was in fact privileged to having these kinds of ridiculous thoughts the content of such subject could be used to inspire an great storytelling.

    It was fine to have psychic thoughts about other people.  I just didn't need to connect it with an line to who they are as an real person.

    And there was nobody that I really knew in the world anymore.

    Every psychic event was connected with an telepathic character; and so I didn't need to think these thoughts about any of them anymore.

    They were just creative ideas.  Supposedly inspired by having an actual conversation with an person.

    What could be the harm in that?

    It was just that I still felt like these were real people, coming to knock down my door.  And they weren't actually doing it; I mean they weren't literally doing that in reality or probably anywhere near my front door.  But they were doing it telepathically; just to be mean.  Just to make me feel bad.  And I still felt like there was the normal status of relationship between me and another person: whatever it was we thought of between us, none of it could be used to read our objective situation and personality.  We had to rely on observations made in person in order really to know anybody.

    We couldn't just rely on our telepathic thoughts to inform us about the character of another person.

    We needed science, hypothesis, evidence.

    And I realized the futility of my situation then.  I had relationships with people who thought it didn't matter what we tried to communicate with one another telepathically because it wasn't possible anyway (an subject for fiction); and I had relationships with people who thought it did matter (it mattered because they were being cruel and that was the method through which to perform that).  And it was actually emotionally taxing on me because there were so many people in my awareness who were wanting to break down my door.  I didn't do anything to prevent them, and so hoping they would bring about another absurd narration of humour (an joke).  (Which is what they were).

    The knight with the silver lance and horses started to charge across my living room floor as though it was an battle plain.  I don't think he realized how big it was compared to how small he was.  These were all types of people who were against me somehow, and aimed to hurt me or to harm me in some manner else, and so they didn't deserve to be taken seriously.  I did wonder of course at why they had allied thus so; against me.

    Couldn't we just stop the war and I could have all kinds of relationships with these people as though it was fine that we all knew the telepathy thing was an joke.  There was nothing about it to trust that we can and could observe it.  Then I wondered at what they would do next.

    It turns out they were still charging across the battlefield of my living room, never to meet with me physically, because they were so tiny as to be smaller than the smallest specks of dust.

    What motivated them thus so?

    Wasn't it just ridiculous what they were doing because it ending up hurting them in the end more anyways?

    They were wasting their time trying to make me feel bad, instead of practicing an known skill.

    It was Anti-Capitalistic up the ying-yang!

    How dost these-eth become so absurd?

    Why were these people acting like this?  It was horrible!

    They stayed with me in my mind.

    Like they weren't staying with themselves in theirs.

    Just to consort an battle against one against me; an un-fair match-up.

    Why chargeth thou to steal across the exhilarating plains of my laminated wood floor?

    They thought they were going to make me reach an end somehow; because they had to.

    It wasn't much reflective as an thought.

    Every person who had ever taken up against me was an fool and I didn't care who they were and what they wanted.  I was an worthwhile person to invest in.  Nobody could deter me.  I was great, and my ego was healthy.  And I had an lot of confidence that maybe some other people didn't have.

    There were other things worth my time and that I had to think about.

    Though I was still in an confused state due to trying to figure out the difference between breaking and entering; and being free everywhere you went.  I liked people who didn't act out an battalion against me, as though they had real critique and excellences against me.  It was just these people of whom I was aware that I loved the most.  I wasn't subject, so much, to the marauding individuals who were so.  But to the gentle, compassionate, passionate artistic individuals.  Why was my life divided, thus so?  Between people who care and people who don't?

    Why did I always have the last laugh?

    People who didn't care if they concerned me; or made me worry.  Versus people who would never do anything physically active against me.  In any ration of energy.  Like they were real people who cared about their own wellbeing.  And weren't out to get revenge against me.  Like some kind of psychopath.

    People who were psychologically interiorizing me by their Camelot play.  And people who cared enough to know they weren't as effective telepathically as they were physically.

    People who sucked; and people who didn't.

    It was just that I had this endless sense of people (who were out to get me) breaking down my door.  And even though they had charged, ridiculously, across my living room floor it still hurt my feelings.  That anybody wanted to do this.

    In play theory, my hypothesis about those two different ways of looking at the world: how I had this feeling of people coming in here to defeat me as well as people not coming in here (not being present) who justifiably chose also not to defeat me in, what shall we call it?  An battle of wits‽

    They were present but only spiritually; and they were here anyway and so there was no way they could destroy me.  They were unlike the trouncers in how the trouncers used psychology as their weapon.  That they try to impart an negative effect on my body using spirit.  Was how depressing and dampening it was as goes for these people whom I sincerely wanted to make capitalistic; anything capitalistic would capitalize on exactly not attending to the spirit of that thought.  I needed to get them off of the psychological subject of hurting me & wronging me for long enough for them to be capitalistic about anything anymore.  I needed to get them off of the drugs (trying to outdo me); and onto the subject of Capitalism, where that would never be worth anything.

    Playing with that line between them meant, maybe that some people whom I liked and whom liked me would physically hurt me with my permission.

    It was an necessary retaliatory effort, wasn't it?

    If I had all these psychic people abusing me: they might not be able to harm me physically from where they're from.  But their intention was shown.  That they should like to march right on up to me and kill me or worse.  It wasn't an physical harm done, then but maybe an mental one: they had been hurting my feelings intentionally.  And that wasn't nice.  And that wasn't fair.  Even if I could detect from them no physical harm being done to my body, then it was an type of mental harm that they had been doing instead.  They, all up against one person, had taken to grouping with themselves in order to continue harming me even moreso.  It was the harm, then, of peer pressure.

    I still don't know the reason why I should feel threatened when it is only of an psychic or intellectual nature.  That so many people put up against me.

    But for some reason I do.

    And they gain their point then: they are hurting my feelings.  Even if I say to myself they aren't.

    I'm wrong and they're right.

    But there are other people (more people than all of the haters combined) who don't intend to do that to me, and I like them and I love them and those are my people.

    There are people who actually like me.  How on Earth could this be possible?

    I wasn't such an skeptic or an hypocrite about this.  I liked me too.

    Play was about art, at the adult level.

    Art was play; play was art.

    Without it there couldn't be any good art.

    When adults play an an community artistic level, that's when everybody has the most fun.

    I needed to get the intruders to be capitalistic again: I needed them to stop tilting at me and get on with their miserable lives.

    But I also sensed they were making the argument to me; of that they weren't doing anything wrong.

    It was only telepathic transfer, and so it was impossible to harm one another this way.

    Yet I had already concluded it hurt my feelings; and had thought they did hold that point against me then.

    And I had concluded that, even though it was primarily mental and intellectual, it did represent an type of harm to me.  Because it had hurt my feelings.

    The play instinct was about capitalizing on the opportunity.

    It represented how those people might add an little more fun to their lives by stopping being angry & hating me.  In order to serve out some capitalistic instinct they may have had, instead of constricting me to deform.  They had chosen to do with themselves what wasn't fun at all.  And it affects all of us.  Isn't it better to have more fun and to do so capitalistically?

    And so all these people who were out to get me, all I had to do to convince them that they were in fact wasting their time on me when they could be doing something else useful to themselves.  Why did they like me so much when, subconsciously, they admit they don't like me at all?  If they hated me so much, why did they want to spend more time with me?

    And all I had to do was convince them that capitalism was the best virtue in that moment.

    I could even turn them all into cats.

    And I was curious (inquisitive) just like I had prayed for.  There were republican conversations to have.  Acts of returning people to the public.  Philosophically.  There also acts of Capitalism and motivation in my planned future ahead.  I was going to write conversations about blue emotions for people to emulate.  The way in was sophisticated and thus complicated.  I had reconsidered all people and found that now I felt different about them.  They were just trying to play but their lives were too miserable for them ever to come to that conclusion and they had to repress all of it.  Somehow it was affecting cats too.  Not in an beneficial kind of way.  There were tons of suffering strays out there right now.

    To be able to play at the level of cats is probably why I am so obsessed with them in their nature.

    Deep sexual involvement and play was characteristic of the species; when cats was used as an metaphor for humans this was all I wanted to think about.  Self-grooming.  Mature.  Meditative.  With an tail.  As an human, of course, I could have my own tale.

    And it was just that I had missed this so much in the fairy tale of my life that explained why I deeply wanted it.

    But I figured I wanted them to read it and then reflect on whether they found themselves cats.

    As one cat to another over the written word.

    An complement.  An acknowledgement of anything sexual about the subject.

    It was just that maybe I didn't have that type of relationship with anyone.  The sensibility.

    I deeply suspected this was because I had repressed this kind of play instinct.

    Or it had just never come to fruition.

    How could I increase this type of play in my own life?

    Gay cats.

    There it was: the actual object of the paranoia: the paranoism.

    Gay cats with lightsabers.

    The secret milked gland.