An examination of Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland for today's drama workshop has lead me to believe one thing about the English language... It is a weird, weird, weird... wonderful thing.
That to say what i mean is not to mean what i say.
That to see what i eat is not to eat what i see.
To sleep when i breathe is not to breathe when i sleep.
What makes language even better in this case is that there can be so many levels of meaning in one book... that to read it as a child i might have learned one thing, and that in reading it again now, i learn something else.
I also revel in the freedom which comes from the fact that all the absurdism came from a mathematician purposefully denying logic....
My mind jumps all over. I am perhaps a little mad. Mad as a hatter in fact.
Until next week, when hopefully my thoughts are a little more linear.