Tag: Crayola

Day 994: The Game Of Milton Bradley’s Life


I confess: I am but one week away from commemorating my 40th year on this planet, and I have yet to ever play The Game of Life. This is not due to some ethical or existential objection to simulating the course of one’s existence upon a square slab of cardboard, but rather due to my friends and I having spent our youthful recreation time with Star Wars toys and kindly ol’ Super Mario. I never got around to playing Candyland either.

As beloved as this board game may be, with its plastic minivans, its cruel cash-drains and generous paydays, buried deep within its roots is a transformative story. The original version of the game, concocted by Mr. Milton Bradley himself, elevated the concept of gaming from prescriptive quests for moral elevation to a more practical and modernized measure of success. More importantly, it came packaged with choice.

The Game of Life as we know it (well, as you probably know it, since I’ve never played the thing) features one early decision: go to school or get a job. After that, each soul is subjected to the whim of the spiteful spinner, suggesting that life is but a cavalcade of random collisions, and that we are always at the mercy of the fickle flick of fate. Mr. Bradley’s outlook on destiny was far more empowering.

Milton Bradley, 1860s

Tracing the Bradley lineage would suggest that a rather dreary definition of “life” could have taken center-stage in his outlook. The family tree was planted in America in 1635, and since then its bark shows the hatchet-marks of murder, Indian attack, kidnapping, and at one point hot embers being poured into an infant’s mouth. When Milton finally squeezed his way onto the planet in 1836, the Bradleys were a little less prone to being butchered, but far from being economic titans. Read more…

Day 205: Deconstructing Astral Projection

The following is a free-verse poem I wrote about astral projection. More important than its message is the message you can only see once you’ve mastered your own cerebral air-travel. Yes, this means there is a coded communication hidden within the poem. Seek it out if you can. I’ll post the answer in tomorrow’s article.


Astral projection. Believe it or don’t believe it.

Some call it (though not I)

Travel. Or Truth.


Religious interpretations abide and confess:

Afterlife, heaven, the soul’s ascent into Funkytown (lucky, lucky soul).

Life after death? The great clouded hall?

Probably not, young caribou.

Really, more likely the natural flick of a brain gone numb;

Out-of-body experience,           but…      can we just turn it on and off?

Just think. Yes or no.

Experience, having been experienced.


Classical thought scribbled in bloodstone Crayola,

(Theosophist, so and so)

Intermediate world between heaven and earth; earth and hell;

Only a way-station between launch and stretch; cosmic agoraphobia;

Nowhere and everywhere at once, none and all,

In the realm of devil and angel.

Sprits.             Booya.


Could a link between the soul and the body exist then?

Occultists say the body travels through nested spheres – so

Maybe similar to concentric circles of koi…

Perhaps existence itself. Think on it.


Life beyond life; a cryptic

Esoteric existence formed between the

Thought and reality – a cosmic, trickling falaj –

Emanationism, yo.

  Read more…