I am a neophyte. An acolyte of a different temple. I am a worshipper of words, not a shaman of sounds, and my inexperience puts me in a new place entirely.
[I wrote this because I said "I am a worshipper of words, not a ----- of sounds." And I can't remember what it was and it kills me. Shaman is as close as I can remember.]
[I wrote this because I said "I am a worshipper of words, not a ----- of sounds." And I can't remember what it was and it kills me. Shaman is as close as I can remember.]
This reminds me a bit of *The Phantom Tollbooth.*
ReplyDeleteThat's lovely. Would that it were. I don't have the mental stamina at this point in my life to be so consistently and objectively kooky.
ReplyDeleteEh, we already have a few books like that, anyway.
ReplyDeleteI love the alliterations, though. It's like when I read and the narrators/characters/whathaveyou all have different voices that aren't mine. (I really hope you guys know what I mean.)
ReplyDeleteAnyway, I like the cleverness of this.
I really liked it, but I wish I knew what I said instead of Shaman. UGH LOSS
ReplyDeleteNow I understand Coleridge.
ReplyDeleteTotally. Except I'm assuming you're not forgetting because it was opium-induced and someone knocked on the door. But yes, it's frustrating.
ReplyDelete