i played drunk chess with B last night.
we were both playing sloppy. i would look eight moves ahead with some pieces and not others, or i’d look ahead with a piece that i later saw was blocked.
B said, “you doubled your pawns.”
i said, “shit.”
> “it’s okay, you can take it back.”
“no, it’s fine. my mistake.”
> “no, you can take it back. i feel like this isn’t fair. you’re drunker than i am.”
“okay, sure.”
we traded piece for piece until i moved my bishop right into his queen’s path. he grimaced as he moved it into place.
he said, “check. i’m sorry.”
i said, “oh god. no, i mean, you win.”
> “that was not a fair game. we can play sober some time. or at least equally drunk.”
B took the hardest math class at stanford — the class math majors take for honors credit — he took it as a freshman and got a B.
“it’s okay, man, you won.”
> “you can really learn some simple strategies to get better. like moving your pieces to the middle.”
“i’m sure. i want to learn. it’s a game.”
> “yeah. it was never more than a game for me. i never studied it.”
“i don’t want to study it.”
> “we should play sober.”
“we should.”
