Conversations at Racquetball

First I played Alexis. She's several seats above me, but I don't think she ever puts her head in the game unless her place is on the line. I easily beat her; 15-7. Someone calls me as I play, I think...

"Miranda? Nei, Nei, Jeg heter Petra. No... I'm Ellie. Like Jelly. Joe and I. Jelly."

Do I remember where Ellie even came from? Those fanciful roots... as easily forgotten as maintained, but I did promise, in so many signatures and usernames, not to change like the rest of the world. So there she is... Elindomiel's there as well. Miranda and Petra and Jelly and Elindomiel.

The best part about being crazy, about chattering away to yourself is that you always get to make the point you want to make, you always get to go the way you want to go. Next I play Tia. A few seats behind me, but I'm sinking. She gets three points on me. I can autopilot when I have the serve, but I should try... I should try to pay attention when she does.

I get the serve back. Then I'm back to nowhere. 8-3. But I don't think "Eight". It's either "Åtte or Otto" and I can't even tell the difference. I find that funny. No reason. She gets four more points. I take the serve. 11-7. Almost like 7-11. I find that funny. No reason. I hit a perfect serve right down the backhand wall. She hits it, but poorly... it bounces and skitters, barely making the front wall.

If I ever really go insane, if it ever goes beyond an extreme case of mind wandering in Racquetball, someone tell me. I might go so far as to write a letter to myself, label it, "Open in case of lost marbles, of a burnt out christmas light." It will tell me all the things I want to do if I'm ever too insane to care. There will be much speaking in tongues. Real and Imagined. And I want to sing this one song. Simple, not horrible, short, and looping. The Windmill Song. Perfekt. I'll sing it all day long.

Just tell me when. I'll be ready. :D