Up Up Down Down is an occasional column about video games.
Many of you have asked if I am OK. (Many more have pointed out that I am a faggot—thank you.) I suppose writing about your own semi-agonizing experience of having had cancer and depression, and couching all that in the context of your recent layoff, and proceeding to discuss your drug and alcohol use, your passing resemblance to Walter White, your crying jags, your sense of loss, loathing, desperation—I suppose that kind of stuff will illicit such a response. So let me clear something up: I am OK. Further, the point and purview of this sorta regular video game column is not to dwell on my personal shit, because anyone’s personal shit is inevitably annoying. By sharing it you indulge in a certain narcissism that’s tolerable only in the smallest of quantities when and if it’s delivered with maximum humor, self-effacement, panache, etc. etc. It’s an incredibly thin hallway to squeeze oneself down, and I am a very large man, and my attempting such a maneuver is inadvisable to say the lea—
—actually fuck it. I recently masturbated to a video-game avatar.
Lemme back up.