I was once where you are; watching the words go up into the blue like so many soap bubbles. You feel no care, no urgency, but be warned! in the right hands even soap bubble might be dangerous.
You say the words are floating to no purpose, your attention is fleeting, and there is a limit to how many words I have to tell my story?
Sadly, you are right, the days of the garrulous old narrator are past, so we start.
One of the times that I was young, Yes, I mean exactly that, I have been young many times; young as a flower, young as a tree, even young as a rock. This time I was young as the youngest son of a rice farmer.
Look if you are going to keep interrupting, we will never get started. Watch the words, count them if you must and we will see where they take us.