PASSAGE 01
Call me Starchild.
The opening begins with a person looking back. The language folds time, memory, and identity together: a life is being reconsidered while its telling is still taking shape.
Call me Starchild. My life is spent in retrospect/grade. I'm in finality finally put to the task, a task that appears a trivial inconsequence has me helmed by the overwhelm.
I'm certainly not sufficient as some self-help guru god, crisis shrink man or circus comic. I've been trans-warped, maybe morphed into that which to my recollection was never me, well I mean the me that I thought I was.
It didn't happen early on, the change in the how or what I understood myself to be. My self-described sub sub precognition would be epitomized as a topsy-turvy metronome. A Foreigner belonging to the likes of Scotland Yard has done His number on me in the unfolding of His supernal form. Form=casted, I drop into your conscious domain of neither here nor there, conquistador of quizmore.
The notes beneath the writing
The surrounding introduction note considers what a preface, introduction, and foreword can do for a reader. It places the opening address beside collected literary criticism about how to invite someone into a work. The quoted criticism and Carroll’s own prose remain distinct parts of that notebook.
An editorial summary of the accompanying notebook material.