IntoTheHallowedHallOfLoss

-->

If you are excited by the idea of losing money on fees while banking there are other means of getting rid of cash. The easy way. Grab your savings and follow me…

1 + 1 is nothing

From the moment you enter the Crow Casino, that curious cash register on the Yarra, that dimlit, dimwit, Hall of Hope, the emphasis seems to be on expressions of getting lost in opulence. This is to be my first ever visit deeper then a frontal look. I am about to enter the guts of the beastie. The place of money machinations. The glimmering dark where folk like to think they get rich. And unseen folk do...

The enticing entrance hall, three long black gleaming limos casually parked out front, is all glass, polished black granite, diffused lighting, Chandeliers, reflections, reflections of reflections, soothing yet energetic sounds of running water, lines of lights emphasising forms and blurring reality and sheets of light emphasising the expense of the architecture. To the ordinary punter all this is very impressive, to the throng it is the start to an Alice in Wonderland type of getting lost experience, down the black hole, down the black hole… goes the cash...

In the second hall, a little deeper into the dragon, we come upon the main portal of income doom. The sound of water, to silence the warnings of the immanent purse attack, increases. This space is darker, larger, is all reflections.

Off to the side of this Hallowed Hall of Loss, the godlike brand names of the retard retail industry strut their stuff. Here, anything from a humble pair of undies to the black shiny business case, aided by clever glass case presentations and state of the art lighting, is elevated to the level of High Art. That and the increased overlay of mirrors are there to remind us how ordinary we really look, and are. Better go and get some of that easy winning cash...

I move further into the monster and soon arrive at its heartless centre, the place where, in the main, my age group play havoc with their savings and food budgets. Having been fooled all their lives to toil for little they are now fooled, once again, out of the little they have left. This central space is huge and buzzes with a weird ambience. In its generosity this tribute to Jeff Kennett’s creative spirit has designed plenty of space for the income challenged. More then plenty of space. Here everything is based on the magic concept of ‘More’. Here also the concept of ‘Mirage’ replaces the expected concept of ‘oasis’. Now you see it, now you don’t. Now you have it, now you won’t…

In all this noise and coloured confusion the absolute calm and immaculate appearance of the croupiers mesmerises. Their hand movements beautiful and ballet like. Cards and coins tumble and slide with great precision. A almost Zen like feeling, next to which the mindless banging away on the slot machines is decidedly ugly...

I wander about in wonder. Where am I?  It is both fascinating and depressing, this central gaming room for everyone where it is neither day nor night, but where I experience the twilight zone of questionable comfort. Where am I? While hundreds are having fun loosing money I already experience despair. Here where many lights flash, where the sounds of water has now been replaced by that of cascading coins, where every surface is reflective, where a confusing soundtrack penetrates everything, a feeling of not knowing exactly where you are is cleverly created. Where am I? Anywhere, but definitely not in my own reality...

A black ceiling filled with starlike lights creates a heavy type heaven set amongst the sounds of hell. In all we, the public, are in a totally confusing and overbearing mind-numbing place which gets under your skin, into your bloodstream, takes over your nervous system so that, not long after arrival every possibility of rational thought has been banished by the keep-sane delete button.  An ambience of both stressed relaxation and hurried calm reaches into every corner of this cosmic cash space…

Well beyond the sounds of win and loss a hardly noticeable, but insistent, frantic modern jazz track adds to the feeling of general mental disorder, entices us along the seams of our purse into it, melts the credit cards, becomes careless with our coins and turns our notes into nothing. Trying to block out this maddening all-around sound, the small voice of reason has no chance in (this) hell…

Walking about this losers paradise I do not notice shame or any other expressions of emotion, such as frustration, anger, despair, annoyance, but a more an atmosphere of passive acceptance. After living life you die, after living gambling you loose, same damn thing, no? The addicted are all in the same boat, not up, but down that proverbial stinking creek, are all among family, though little familiar interaction or conversation takes place. The only exchange which seems to take place is solitary, the exchange of cash for the dubious fun of losing…

In this inner sanctum of madness there are of course the occasional winners, the coins rattle loudly into their metal containers for all to hear, there to be swept up and deposited right back in the false hope of more, more, more. The deadly chant of the gambler. But here more turns out to be definitely less, unless you mean the real winners, which are there, hidden behind the dark reflective glass of this feast of feral fun and parlour games…

However, there are positives, the food is cheap, there is totally comfortable seating everywhere, stewardess-like game flight attendants serve complimentary drinks to the reality disabled and, just like the size of the winnings, the drinks are miniscule. Quick refreshment, get on with the real stuff of the game, the two cent game…

Most of the machines attended are those of one and two cent games, there are others, but these seem to be the most popular. Just imagine, five games for only ten cents, FIFTY GAMES FOR JUST ONE DOLLAR. And, here you don’t need coins, those annoying reminders of your real earnings, of the hard work you had to perform to earn these coins. No, here we use play money, make-believe money, and just like the make believe money there are only make believe winnings, because you better not believe that you get out of there with more then you entered. Additionally, and as a real plus, the time it takes to play a game is about the time it takes to push a button. Two cents…two cents, an inventive way for the government to get its pensioner cheques back…

There are no clocks, but for me it is definitely time to leave. Now, where was it I entered, everything looks the same, there are no hints of where you are, everything is reflected,  same people, same loss ration, same hellish sound track…Arghhhh…

When I finally walk out into a glorious Melbourne spring evening, it is the outside which appears unreal. An unreal winner…

and I? I am the loser, I came I to the casino with my wallet and when I got to the train station I was san wallet. Lifted from my pocket. I didn't play a game but still lost, that is the true magic of the money munching machine……