He cared less, so they cared more. He said it was beautiful. I knew he was broken.This was his game.

I wait, you play. You speak, I cave. I promise, you break. You game me, daily, you play me.

The right method of philosophy would be this. To say nothing except what can be said, i.e. the propositions of natural science, i.e. something that has nothing to do with philosophy: and then always, when someone else wished to say something metaphysical, to demonstrate to him that he had given no meaning to certain signs in his propositions. This method would be unsatisfying to the other - he would not have the feeling that we were teaching him philosophy - but it would be the only strictly correct method. My propositions are elucidatory in this way: he who understands me finally recognizes them as senseless, when he has climbed out through them, on them, over them. (He must so to speak throw away the ladder, after he has climbed up on it.) He must surmount these propositions; then he sees the world rightly. Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent.

Strauss admits to being obsessed by his mother's rejection, and with the resultant rents in self-esteem. The Game echoes with disturbingly abusive comments leveled at his adolescent self, a self he feels was unacceptable. With bravado, he expresses regret that he didn’t rack up more sexual conquests in his teens; in person, he expresses a truer regret that he was intimidated by life itself.

You either learn to play hard ball or you become the ball.

Tricks ripped and you tripped, tricked yourself by falling slowly.I’m the winner in this game,unable to stoop to your level of shame.Unwilling to reply to your words of ache.

This isn't a game," he repeats. It's real. What you do here determines your survival. He pauses. "And the survival of every other person on this planet.I laugh.He doesn't. And that tells me he's either serious or seriously crazy. Please let him be crazy.

SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVILNow please let me introduce myselfI’m the wealthy charming manBeen here on earth for many, many yearsMany hearts, faiths and souls I stoleI was around and watched Jesus ChristHad his faith, doubt and painConned goddamn Pontus PilateTo wash his hands and doom his soulThrilled to meet youDo you guess my nameThought I’m in hell but no I’m right hereThat’s the puzzling nature of my game

Of course. I died today, and now I'm going to fight aliens with a light saber. Maybe after that we can look for mermaids. Or unicorns.""No," he says. "Just aliens."Was that the barest hint of humour in his tone?