Aug the Twenty-Fourth (cont’d)
I read that last entry back to myself and wanted to scribble a few more symbols about it. No, I haven’t gone to bed yet, but today was a light reading day, I have the time.
First, the thought/idea thing. I think, if thoughts and ideas are in fact somehow alive (let’s face it, stranger things are true in this world, and the other worlds than these), they start out as thoughts and then evolve into ideas. I don’t know what makes them evolve, maybe they need to get into the right mind and lay down some roots, but the word thought is definitely more general than the word idea, and generals usually evolve into specifics over time. Hah, it even makes sense alphabetically: there’s no I in thought, not until it finds a mind and becomes an Idea.
Second, the Latin translation for Great Storyteller is Magna Relator, which I pronounce as mah’gna rel’ah’tore. Relator is Storyteller, and English has its origins in Latin. The point I’m try’n’a make is that an archaic translation of storyteller is relator, literally relater. The job of a storyteller is to tell a story, obviously, but it goes deeper than that. The job of a storyteller – the cosmic purpose of the role, if you will – is to relate, both to others and to themselves. Folks read stories because they want something to relate to, it gives them purpose, gives them confidence, and folks write stories for the very same reason. Look at me – when I was reading The Gunslinger a week ago, and even now I still feel like Roland. The first time I read it way back when, I literally said to myself, “I am the gunslinger.” That’s what stories are for, ‘man! They’re so important!
Albey the Mad Poet is a metaphor for Roland of Gilead, in a way, and my Dark Tower? A poetry career. The poetry career, that is, because like Roland eventually gets to the Dark Tower, I will eventually make a name for myself in the world of poetry – and by extension the world of writing – although I doubt I will meet the same fate as Roland does when he lays his gun down at that [le’me check the book real quick] “steel-banded slab of black ghostwood,” the door once unfound.
Kind’a makes me wonder who my man in black is… in the THC universe I suppose Albey’s would be Gobon the In’Fluence. I kind’a like that, actually. Maybe Gobon really was the one behind the Plague of Decay all along. Maybe it was Gobon’s fault that Iuqon and Ram’rl fell at Jericho Tower. Maybe, if it weren’t for Gobon, they’d have never made that final trip. Maybe they’d still be adventuring together even today.
Gobon fled into the endless forest, and Albey the Mad Poet follows. Yeahhhh motherfucker, that’s tight. That’s clean, in the words of Mister King. If I ever do get around to writing that THC book – not go’n’a explain it, not making it real… not yet – that’s how the prologue is starting. No, not the prologue… the Prelude. Yeaaahhhh.
If I ever write it, that is. Which I probably won’t, as I am a poet, not a proser. Proser sounds too much like poser, which is exactly how I’d feel if I were to go about writing a novel. But uh… stranger things have happened, right?
… … …
Anywho, I think that’s all I wanted to elaborate on (for nobody’s sake but my own, lol. Why am I like this?). Specifics aside, I am definitely a writer (read: gunslinger). The blank page is my big iron, the symbols are by bullets. All I have to do is start shooting… after I get sober. If I’m go’n’a shoot, I need to be shooting straight.
Thank you, Journal. ‘Preciate ya. Good sleeps and good dreams~
Hello Commons, this has been the next journal entry from Untitled Bigfoot Project, a novel about a writer who writes a novel about bigfoot.
Untitled Bigfoot Project is part of the Third Spiral, an anthology of sorts called The Here and Now which is comprised of stories told from the various planes of Existence.
Untitled Bigfoot Project is available to read for free in its entirety on my website. Click here to check it out.
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