The dialogue in my head, lately, ricochets. That's not the same as being scatter-brained, instants of losing incidents, incidents of losing instants.

Thoughts aren't lost, but like a silver ball that bounces off tiny pillars wrapped with wires that send out signals to a larger machine that keeps track, my thoughts bounce off of one another. I can feel myself trying to keep track of the ball, trying to move the ball toward the pillars without "tilting" the larger machine, throwing it off balance, losing the points I've racked up toward winning another game, or simply sustaining.

To control the ball without over-controlling the ball.

The game, I guess, it the thinking game. There is a difference though, my pillars, my thoughts, my silver ball of a brain that ricochets from thought to thought and must be kept from falling to the bottom of a slanted surface where it will be lost, is contained in a space restrained only by the limits of my time here, and it remains un-walled until my time here is done. Not only does it remain unrestrained, bound only by my death, which it hasn't met and cannot predict, there are new thoughts forming constantly and they in turn create opportunities for my brain to make new connections.

So my brain is this ever expanding game that I partake in but am not wholly in control of, although I like to believe that I am. There is momentum that builds in thoughts I try to steer, to maneuver. When I try to write them down they continue to move, to ricochet. I have some say in how they move from the mind to the page to the mind again. (They are never still.) I have some influence, I create some force, but I mostly follow the ricochet of the ball.