Clown School Break Day 30: Cooperative Games

December 21, 2025 JulianLeave a comment

In which Our Hero collaborates.

My family has recently taken to playing cooperative games. Growing up, we played mainly competitive games. Sometimes team games, but more often individual competitive games.

My partner recently posed the question: What if a person grew up playing mainly cooperative games?

An interesting question.

For one, most sports are competitive. (Sure, some are team-based, but those are still generally against other people rather than a challenge against nature or circumstance.)

For two, most contrived games (as distinct from natural games like science or business) are competitive.

For three, most good contrived games are competitive. Taking board games as a field I know quite well: only over the last ~20 years have cooperative board games taken off, and still they are much less popular and less created than competitive ones.

Bad games are generally not worth playing. They’re unfun and teach poor / useless skills.

Good games are, well, good.

I learned to count and perform basic mental math through the card game cribbage. I’m not aware of a cooperative equivalent that’s as engaging and strategic (and building one’s strategic muscle is worthwhile in itself).

Cooperative games teach communication, team coordination, collective strategy, leading and following, ebbs and flows.

I used to ghostwrite for the founder of the video streaming platform Twitch. He and his brother both sold companies for ~$1B, and they credit their parents’ chore system with teaching them to collaborate and strategize. The chores had to be completed, but the how and the who were up to the children’s choices. (For more, search the word “chore” in this article or this article.)

Collaborative games are excellent. And in the grand scheme of things, many competitive games are really about collaboration on the meta level anyway. Tennis is about (i.e. funded by) encouraging people to play tennis, which is generally good for physical health. Individual competitive sports like running are about setting a new record, thereby pushing human physical ability to new heights.

Perhaps it’s true: Even when we’re competing, we’re collaborating.

Clown School Day 18: You Must Play the Game

October 29, 2025 JulianLeave a comment

In which Our Hero misquotes Shakespeare.

“This above all: to thine own game be true.” —Hamlet, Act 1 Scene 3.

It’s very easy to forget the game.

But the game is the most important thing.

Some performance is only game. Tennis, for instance, is only game: and look how much money that earns.

The Rehearsal

My scene partner and I rehearsed today. We lacked pleasure because we had forgotten the game.

The original game was simple: I make my partner lick a thing. Like when children find a bug and dare each other to eat it.

It wasn’t fun anymore. We knew it was coming. We knew he would do it. There was no tension, no conflict.

So we changed it.

Now, we begin with a eulogy for a piece of the space: “We are gathered here today to say goodbye to the power outlet.”

Then we play rock-paper-scissors.

The loser, as a ritual of farewell, must lick it.

As the scene escalates, so do the lickables. The floor. The bottom of a shoe. The teacher.

We didn’t have a game. Now we have a game.

The game? Rock-paper-scissors.

But with stakes!

The Farce

In Improv class, I realized the rule applies to everything.

We played a farce: a train compartment. One person enters, perfectly normal except for one grotesque tic. They repeat it. Then a second person enters, takes pleasure from that game, and — after a long time enjoying their tic (longer than you think) — adds their own tic, heightening the first. Then a third person. Then a fourth.

The game is simple: take the game from the person before you, heighten it through your play, and pass it on.

Simple is nice.

Simple is hard.

You have to feel the scene. Is it falling down? Are you talking over the game with “train compartment” nonsense? Are you heightening or dominating or smothering?

When everyone played the game, the farce appeared by itself.

When someone forgot, everything froze.

The game makes the show. Always has. Always will.

The Handstand

This morning, I flipped upside-down.

My first handstand (wall-assisted), then onto a peer’s back, who rolled me forward, turning us both into a ball.

A new game: gravity as partner.

I’d forgotten the joy of inversion.

The Father

My father arrived in Étampes today. He wants more than anything to see a class.

I’d love to have him: to share my play space. The school forbids it.

No visitors, no cameras, no phones. We even sign a “no recording” oath, like monks taking vows.

Why so strict?

Because clowning is vulnerable.

I’ve seen people bare grief. I’ve seen them make absolute fools of themselves (and not the good kind).

Once, a student scraped his false teeth along the floor before popping them back in. The room gasped. Disgust and horror.

Once, I yelled at the teacher. Their instruction felt like trash; maybe provoking me was the point.

This isn’t for YouTube. This is for us.

The school protects its game.

It keeps the outside world out, so the play inside can live.

The Lesson

The game is everything: the lick, the tic, the flip, the secret room.

When you forget the game, everything dies.

When you play it, life appears.

Protect the space so you can play the game.

Then find the game.

Release all else.

Play the game.

And when you lose it, start again.

That’s what makes it a play.

Clown School Day 17: The LeBron of Tic Tac Toe

October 28, 2025 JulianLeave a comment

In which Our Hero learns that leadership means getting the simple things right.

THE SETUP

The game is simple: tic-tac-toe.

The complication: teammates.

Two teams of 11 players, across a ten-foot-by-ten-foot tic-tac-toe board. Each team has three handkerchiefs of their team color. At the sound of the drum, the first player sprints to a spot on the board, drops their handkerchief, and sprints back to tag the next player.

When all three of your handkerchiefs are placed, your move is to move one of your handkerchiefs instead of placing a new one.

At three in a row, you win the point.

THE ESCALATION

How is this so hard?

First, foot faults. Were both of your feet inside the square where you dropped the kerchief? If not, your placement doesn’t count. (More than one clown kicked the game board itself, forcing a complete game stop and reset.)

Second, speed. Your next teammate goes when your previous teammate tags them. If you dawdle, the opponents may get two moves to your team’s one: a death knell in tic tac toe.

Third, skill errors. Can you picture the board as it currently is, and how you would like it to be after your play? Can you balance both your team’s desire for three in a row with the importance of blocking the other team?

Fourth, panic. If you’re not sure where to place the handkerchief, you may find yourself overwhelmed by the twenty clowns yelling at you.

THE CHAOS

If this sounds intense, that’s because it is. It’s the most competitive I’ve seen clowns in four weeks of class. One clown classmate commented to me: “Usually you and I are the only two trying to win. In this game, everyone is.”

And the best part: it’s tic tac toe.

You know, the game that even a monkey can play.

When I played this same game in the summer course, I was dubbed “the LeBron of tic tac toe” by a Boston-accented TikTok star who’d gained school-wide notoriety for roasting himself in a Trump impression.

This time, my team came out to a strong start. 2-0 in the lead.

Their team called a time out.

From across the board, I could see one member of their team — a former death row attorney now turned stand up comedian — giving an impassioned speech.

Members of my team jeered at him. I thought of strategic elements I wanted to share — if unsure, play the middle or corners, not the sides; run back quickly to tag your teammate — but kept them to myself, unsure how to make them land. I didn’t want to come off as the pushy, out-for-victory teammate.

The game restarted. Their team came out on a tear. They won three of the next four points, and ultimately took the match 11-9.

All game I mused to myself: What had he said? They started to coordinate so well. What strategies did he share? How did he inspire them to listen to his suggestions without coming off as pushy?

THE REVELATION

At lunch, I asked him. I complimented him on his success, then I asked what he had said.

“Oh, that? Some of our team didn’t understand the game. I just explained the rules.”

There’s a Polish expression I enjoy that translates to “Not my circus, not my monkeys”.

Unfortunately, this is my circus.

And unfortunately, it is not populated with monkeys.

Clown School Day 11: The Joy of Gibberish

October 20, 2025October 25, 2025 JulianLeave a comment

In which Our Hero finally speaks his native tongue

I did it! I clowned! Wahoo!!! !!!! !!!!

Here’s the sitch:

Our head teacher asks for five people who don’t speak Chinese. I step forward. She plays a Chinese song and we’re told to mime along. Then she turns down the music and says: keep going. Continue the song, in this language we do not speak.

I have been preparing for this my whole life.

I’ve always loved imitating sounds. Not faces, not gestures, sounds. The cadence of languages, sirens, shower water hitting my rubber duck. It’s always been a private delight.

Today I let it out. I imitated the music of a language I don’t know, and loved it. The audience loved it too.

It gets better.

On Friday I asked our teacher how to tell when something works. She said: you have to look at the audience and see.

I already knew that, but I needed to hear it from her.

So today I looked. I saw the joy light up their faces. One woman — the same who’d argued with me on Thursday — beamed with glee. My roommate was glowing, proud to see me not only succeed but to know I was succeeding.

And so I kept playing. Kept singing. Kept sharing that joy.

Good news: I have a skill people love.

Bad news: in America, this skill is considered offensive.

Five years ago at a rodeo in Wyoming, I was doing a southern accent for fun. My travel partner told me it was unacceptable. She thought I was mocking. Maybe she was right; maybe she wasn’t. Either way, I stopped.

Now, at last, I’ve found a place where the same instinct — my delight in sound and voices — brings laughter and connection instead of tension and fear.

Sometimes I wander around the house doing silly voices. Usually, people shut this down. But in clown, it’s beautiful.

Or maybe it’s always been beautiful, I just need the right place to perform.

🤡

[My travel buddy of the last two years would like to add this note about me: “I’ve also noticed when traveling that you [Julian] pick up the accent and speech pattern of folks you chat with. I often worry that folks will find it offensive, but, tbh, I think they don’t usually notice and seem to like it.”]

Clown School Weekend 2.2: What’s in a Game?

October 19, 2025October 25, 2025 JulianLeave a comment

That which we call Our Hero, by any other game, would play as sweet.

What is a game?

A game isn’t one thing, but a cluster of traits that, in sufficient combination, make us recognize something as a game. None of these are necessary, but enough of them is sufficient to make something a game. Some of those traits are:

Competition and/or cooperation
Ability to win and/or lose
Use of toys, equipment, and/or pieces
Play
Fun and/or pleasure
Turns
Rules
A self-contained world, protected from life’s other elements
Practicing skills useful elsewhere

The trouble of defining game is the trouble of defining any abstract concept: when we say “X is a game,” we mean it has enough of the qualities we associate with games for our brains to light up in recognition. Hence our endless debates, like whether a hot dog is a sandwich.

Games vary across cultures because the pleasures of play vary too. At clown school, we seek a joy that’s light and friendly; in sport, the joy can be vicious, even cruel. Have you ever watched a professional tennis final? They’re clearly playing a game — but not playing games.

Defining abstractions always circles back to the Supreme Court’s test for pornography: we know it when we see it. Still, shared language demands some definitioning (now a word). And that task grows harder as meanings and technologies evolve: even “simultaneous” doesn’t mean what it once did.

I like games. Always have. And by that I mean: I like whatever fires my neurons to say that’s a game. I like them better than mere activities; give me competition or a timer, and I’m in.

So:

Games are hard to define.
Games share recognizable traits.
I like games.

I recently stumbled upon a definition for game by the philosopher Bernard Suits: “the voluntary attempt to overcome unnecessary obstacles.” Elegant, but too narrow. It fits golf or chess, not politics or dating, where the obstacles aren’t unnecessary, just chosen. I don’t think “dating is a game” is metaphorical; I think it’s a real diagnostic description of how people behave in the world.

Ludwig Wittgenstein suggested that definitional meanings work by family resemblance rather than rigid borders. I’ve always respected the man; nice company to stumble into.

Maybe that’s why I love games: they’re how we practice living within constraints — voluntary or not — and still find joy.

Life, after all, is the longest game we play.

Game on.

Clown School Weekend 2.1: The Cleverness of Simplicity

October 18, 2025October 25, 2025 JulianLeave a comment

In which Our Hero dunks on century-old cinema

Charlie Chaplin is a comedy god. I saw his magnum opus today. It was… fine?

Not great. Not exciting. Not even that funny.

One or two strong laughs — the eating of the shoe, the dancing dinner rolls — but mostly, the movie made me sad. My film-buff friend assured me it was meant to. The pathos is why it’s endured, he said.

So we watch the Little Tramp suffer. The love interest betrays him. Our Hero suffers yet again. The sadness swallowed the play. I felt too much pity and fear to laugh.

I’m certainly more of a Marx Brothers fan. I like the clever. The sharp. The witty. The possible. Chaplin, by contrast, was morose. The Marx Brothers sparred with logic; Chaplin wrestled with circumstance.

I also saw three Laurel & Hardy shorts, and liked them much more. A quest to change pants, failing in ever-new ways. Elegant clownic escalation. Need a new beat: toss a crab in the pants. Simple. Repeatable. Because it was so limited, clever.

Clever comes from doing more with less. Laurel & Hardy did more with less. So did Chaplin, at his best: when dinner guests ask for a speech, he offers a dance instead (because it’s a silent film!). Cue the famous dinner rolls.

In clowning, the game is paramount. A simple, easy-to-understand game that provides boundless fun for the time allotted. Make the game simpler. Then vary it. Expand it. Loop it. Narrow it.

With clown, I don’t want a new game. I just want another well-played round of the same.

That’s what I’m learning in clown school: the joy of the repeat.

Clown School Day 10: How to Win by Losing

October 17, 2025October 25, 2025 JulianLeave a comment

In which Our Hero finally beats himself

I loved it when a classmate called me a douche. It raised a key question: Am I a douche?

To that, I had to answer yes. Because anyone who steamrolls friends at silly games is a douche. And I’d been playing silly games to win, despite frequently being much better than others.

A knight without chivalry is a douche. An assassin without honor is a douche. The powerful, when they flex on the powerless, are acting like a douche.

(He said this after I grabbed a ball he was juggling. Not a big deal. Still, a douche.)

I wrote in my notebook: Stop always playing to win. Try playing to play.

Then we started wall ball.

Wall ball is simple: hit the ball, it hits the wall, bounces once, next player hits. Compared to my group, I’m very skilled at wall ball. Last time I won the tournament (ahem, ladies 😉)

This time, I decided to try play. My game:

Don’t die.
Give the next player the easiest possible hit.

Using this approach, I eliminated only one person (on a challenging shot where a gentle hit might have put myself at risk). Still, I reached the finals.

At the finals, a question arose: keep playing my game, or now play to win?

I chose my game. Either he’d win, or he’d beat himself.

First to three wins.

He won the first point.

He mis-hits. All tied up.

I thunked one off the side.

He botched another.

Two-two. Next point wins.

He fired a zinger to the corner: unreturnable. He wins.

The crowd went wild.

Everyone loves seeing David beat Goliath.

I cheered too. It felt better than winning the tournament. That had been awkward. This was joy. I led the chant: “Speech! Speech! Speech!”

The victor obliged.

I don’t think I’ve ever thrown a game before. This didn’t feel like throwing. It felt like optimizing for something bigger.

I didn’t lose. I won at a bigger game.

Sometimes the point of the game is play.

In theater, the point of the game is the play.

—

Later, our class watched another student play a game on stage with the same man I’d met in the finals.

The student was far more skilled. My teacher said:

“When you play with someone much worse than you, you must have good humor.”

That’s why I’m here.

To learn good humor.

Diveball: Your Next Favorite Game

June 8, 2022June 8, 2022 Julian1 Comment

Today, only dozens of people in the world know how to play this game. In 5 years, it will be massively popular (on the order of 100k or 1M+ players). I’m going to popularize it. I’m publishing this post in part to spread it wide and in part to plant my flag before it becomes huge.

How to play is linked here. (I’ll update that document as I iterate on the particularities of the rules. The basic structure, however, is solid.) I’ve also pasted the current version of the rules below:

Diveball

Materials:

1 pool table
1 cue ball (that’s the white one)
1 7 ball

Setup:

Each of the 4 players stands at a corner.
- Players are on a team with the person directly across from them (i.e. the player with whom they share a long side).

Definitions:

The 7 ball is “dead” if it stops moving.
The 7 ball is “scored” if it enters one of the corner pockets.
Each player has a “kitchen”, which is the one-forth of the table closest to them. The boundary of the kitchen (the “kitchen line”) is formed by connecting the second dots on the side of the table. (Players who share an end will share both a kitchen and a kitchen line.)
A team has “possession” when it is their turn to play.
A player performs a “shot” when they touch and/or release the cue ball such that it hits the 7 ball.
A player performs a “pass” when they transfer the cue ball to their partner (without the cue ball touching the 7 ball).

Play:

A team wins a point in one of three ways:
1. Making the 7 ball dead during their opponents’ possession
2. Scoring the 7 ball (note: scored only applies to a corner pocket).
3. Their opponents commit a foul.

“Possession” works like this:
1. The serving team begins with possession.
2. A team passes possession to their opponents by touching the cue ball and then the cue ball touching the 7 ball.
Serving works like this:
1. Set up for a serve by placing the 7 ball in the middle of the kitchen line opposite the server.
2. A legal serve is one where the cue ball hits the 7 ball, then the 7 ball hits the back wall before it stops, goes into a pocket, or hits a side wall.
3. A server has three attempts at a legal serve.
  1. If they fail, the opposing team receives a point and the
Note: the 7 ball is not scored if it enters one of the side pockets. Instead, if this happens, no teams score any points and the player who hit it into the side pocket chooses the next server. (They may choose any of the 4 players.)

Illegal actions (i.e. “fouls”):

Touching the 7 ball.
Touching the cue ball when it is not your possession.
Touching the cue ball while it touches the 7 ball.
“Playing from the side” – i.e. failing to have both feet behind the horizontal line that determines the end of the table when making a shot.
“Playing in the air” – i.e. failing to have at least one foot on the ground when releasing the cue ball in a shot that prompts the cue ball to hit the 7 ball.
The cue ball contacts the 7 ball while any part of the 7 ball is in the releasing player’s Kitchen.
- To avoid violating this kitchen rule, you should pass the cue ball to your partner when needed.

A game works like this:

Randomize the first server.
- After each point, the partner of the player who last legally transferred possession serves the next point.

A match works like this:

Play “best two out of three” games (i.e. the first team to win two games wins the match).

Clarifications:

If the cue ball goes in any pocket, the point continues. Whichever team has possession had better fish it out fast!
If the 7 ball jumps off the table, award no points and serve afresh.
The 7 ball is only scored in the corner pockets. If it’s hit into a side pocket, no points are scored and the player who hit it into that pocket chooses the next server.
The 7 ball is only deemed to have “stopped moving” when it is no longer rolling nor spinning AND the cue ball is stopped or touched by a possessing player or touches a wall.
- Therefore, the balls do not have to collide before the 7 stops moving; a team need only release the cue ball before the 7 ball stops moving, so long as the cue ball hits the 7 ball directly thereafter.

Travelog Thursday 191031 (Redacted version)

November 6, 2019June 20, 2020 JulianLeave a comment

Start: Parked outside [redacted], New Orleans, Louisiana.

End: sleeping in [redacted], New Orleans, Louisiana.

Exciting Events:

Wandered around New Orleans dressed in a couple’s costume: I was Draco Malfoy & Smidge was Dobby the House Elf.
- Drunk wandering is just as pointless as I remember. Trying to find that friend, avoiding places with covers, etc.
Felt twice like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
- When [redacted] and I were playing connect 4 as the night was coming to a close.
- Wandering down Bourbon street sipping a delightfully fruity daiquiri.
Talked through [redacted]’s life goals and how he should choose a career by ability, not passion.
Did two [redacted].
Phone with [redacted] to tell her I [redacted].

Real Realizations:

People are the same everywhere. The difference is interests, topics, opportunities. Same people, tho.
Sleep deprivation keeps people wired and happy.
I don’t enjoy dressing up for Halloween. Too much effort, too little value.

Quotent Quotables:

“I’m gonna be a cow.” -[redacted].
“The first thing to attack in your enemy is their communications.” -[redacted].
- I like this quote for its wide-ranging reach. Whether playing chess or in war with a country, the first thing to destroy is their ability to think. You knock out that ability by knocking out communications—between them and another or within one, itself.

Commonplace occurrences:

Work for [redacted].
Did [redacted]’s dishes. What a gift.

Disappointing doldrums:

[Redacted] with [redacted] feels oddly fractured again.

Delicious Delectables:

Cooked a steak and sweet potatoes for [redacted] & me.
Chicken tenders at dinner.

Alluring Activities:

Hanging with [redacted].
Sleeping late.

Travel Log 191020 (Redacted Version)

October 20, 2019June 20, 2020 JulianLeave a comment

Start: [Redacted], Pflugerville, TX

End: [Redacted], Pflugerville, TX