oh how I hate editing posts, so let's do it together

repost from elsewhere, one of two

"...you see..." the goblin explained, continuing "...it isn't enough for me to create one's persona here, one has to create an effective harlequin to narrate the scenes too...", outside, in the now unused streets that this sunday morning offered those few passersby under some gray sky dullness that was all too typical of geneva's early spring, a longish day awaited, one that would just follow its unadventurous course as always, inside the bistro though, it was different, in that the goblin's coffee, being half drunk by now, fueled a mind that was ready for posting across forumland for all that anonymous critical acclaim and recognition by his fellow posters that only one as deluded as himself could possibly crave for, save that the bistro's WIFI at this point was down again, "...plan B then..." said the goblin who fell back to second fiddling by preparing something to post later, concluding "...for me, these "last post" threads act both, like a spur goading me on to post on, and as a benchmark to aim at, no not "what do I win here", more "what am I losing if I don't" which keeps me at it...", the harlequin then narrated the bit about the falling near freezing sleet, viewed from the window, and how it barred the goblin's physical escape from the bistro at the very moment the WIFI had now returned, "...guess I'm stuck here on this thread with you mortals MYAHAHAHAHAHA, cause I'm certainly not going out in that sleet then..." wailed the goblin squatting on last spot here again, for slowly the sleet turned into snow as expected


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repost from elsewhere, two of two

the goblin was thinking about this now relentless curtain of cascading snow, which had taken over from the sleet some hours ago, knowing that as long as it fell like this he, together with those around him, was stuck in the bistro sharing the same emotion of disbelief at it, "...for now is this winter of our discontent made whole by the view from this window..." joked the goblin not really laughing much as umpteen glum faces somehow looked forlornly up to the heavens for a moment's rest bite, out-glummed only in intensity that is by the bistro owner himself who knew his "takings" wouldn't merit his "hours" again, and in this, what better target for his griping than those squatting laptops users the goblin wondered, nope, the goblin didn't really need to wonder, no he just needed a cloak of invisibility at this point


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repost from elsewhere

the goblin is thinking about the global downturn again, which somehow seemed to contrast perfectly with the clear blue sky over the white mountains of this sunny morning then, save for the sinister cold hidden well within it too, "...perhaps, at this point, a coward would close his eyes and cast his thoughts elsewhere, changing the subject in his mind, whereas a fool would still seek out those distractions that most people rave about passing his life that way then, but only someone mad would venture to record it for no more reason than the fact that he was here and that this was happening around him..." concluded the goblin, as mad as ever, as the storm of recession grew perceivably closer still


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repost from elsewhere

"...so all I have to do is post to win..." remembered the goblin as he looked at the slot "...yes, but not just anything please..." the slot replied, continuing "...feed me well, forget the others because if you start to write to please them, then you'll no longer be yourself now, so trust in yourself and continue our little journey to self here goblin, it's all that matters in the end isn't it...", the goblin felt that the slot for once was right, it was his journey here and his alone, yet he always liked the company of others too


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repost from the "taking care" thread, elsewhere

the goblin's innerman looked on, somehow he wanted the thread to return to the topic of one's outerman which was after all what someone had asked about, for the goblin knew that outerman was often the only person some people could see of themselves, their outerman being both how they looked in the mirror and the sum total of their actions, outerman always seemed to depend on how he looked in other people's eyes, he was a cheap self trapping madam bovary type, and all so necessary in a life that dealt with other people but innerman would laugh at all this saying "...so when was the last time you took a journey to self and fed the slot here, for the slot is always hungry..."


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repost from elsewhere

the goblin loved his life at the moment, he had been called out to vevey this morning because someone else had been taken ill, his group visited the alimentarium(food museum) but that wasn't it for the goblin, no, the goblin simply loved the view across the lake of the mountains now and could well understand why Charlie Chaplin had chosen that house up upon the hill looking down at this, in fact chaplin's statue in front of the museum related nothing of his fall from grace, his years in exile here, and of that boarderline personal life with those under age girls again, all of which seemed far more interesting than any of his films, even if most people only knew of chaplin's films, so the goblin simply said "...it's seeing behind the object, the background of someone perhaps, that brings the object into focus, just I feel thatchaplin was more of a character in himself than anything he ever portrayed..."


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repost from elsewhere, just sharing

"...ah no but thanks anyway..." said the goblin who was an awful dyslexic, his ability, if the goblin had any that is, only came from his keeping at it, not for fame, nor fortune, nor even for readership now, no only because the goblin knew, that if he was lucky, an old age awaited him, one which could all too easily become as lonesome for him, as it was for those he saw in the old age home next door, "...but suppose one created a persona here that never aged over the remaining years, one that with practice would grow ever more fluid and realistic, surely that would be reason enough for this relentless posting would it not..." ventured the goblin, knowing that his own creation had been this goal all along, and yet it had turned out quite differently from planned now, for the goblin was here yes, and yet it had in its turn molded the person who was writing this too, concluding"...funny then isn't it, how a really credible actor is swallowed whole by the part then, leaving nothing of himself behind, it's like I want the dummy, not the ventriloquist, to be the one that is remembered between us..."


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repost from elsewhere, again

the goblin smiled once more looking out across the bright snow to the mountains beyond, "...and what, may I ask, do you think all this then, that we are writing together here, if not some live shared book of sorts, with each one of us intricately woven within its sprawling pages..." mentioned the goblin now, adding "...simply the times, perhaps with the advancement of technology here, have once more returned writing to something like those short episodes found perhaps in victorian journals where dickens and doyle held the reader's imagination in the palm of their hands...", the goblin paused knowing that there was something more, and tried for it here, relating "...look again, do you not notice that the actual distance between the persona, the piece, and the response has gone, simply they're all just one and the same, so one doesn't humbly submit something for appraisal and approval any more, one posts it directly, and one becomes what one has posts...", the goblin's coffee tasted deep now, unpleasant even, it's sweet bitterness held him tightly to the point he had just made, and how clearly he saw it too, continuing "...frankly more people are interacting forumland here, than if any one of us were to go cap in hand to some puffed up publisher somewhere for their ever declining readership now, for isn't the truth that those medias, publishing included, are losing market share to our internet, so this online ongoing trend is upon us, and that's why too, I keep forgiving those old dorks who ban me from their writer's forums and who adhere to their hallowed gospel of appropriate penmanship for ever so correct writers, for I'm just a livewriter here, posting with you within this live element of forumland just as you are too, moreover, what can be more published than this then, and to what wider audience in the long run than forumland now, oh unless you mean facebook, but facebook goers wouldn't even read this far, nah my writing addiction is bad yes but not that desperate, besides, facebook is for those with a face whereas I have no face, I just write..."


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repost from elsewhere, the "writing hints" thread, subject of acceptable length

day whatever, the usual thing, those cleaning ladies ever calling across the tables of the bistro to one another somewhat reminiscent of creatures across some enormous forest canopy while the goblin himself, tucked neatly into the corner, tries to type keeping his mind focused on the question in front of him, and to ignore them long enough to make a valid reply here, ah but who is he kidding then as the moment the goblin opens up the slot here, umpteen tangents offer their distractive seductive candidacy for his post instead, "...no I want to offer sound advice to the humans this time, be off with you now..." he voices out loud, though fortunately the cleaning ladies around him don't speak english and are all too used to the goblin's sudden outbursts, so he waits upon time now as the cursor blinks away the moments, simply the goblin is waiting for that feeling like a retracting wave that is always followed by a sudden gush of vision like thought, in which he will jot down the resulting words, rereading them whenever he loses track, "...goblin, can I swallow this down yet, I'm hungry and do remember that those humans these days don't have much of an attention span, you'll be lucky if they've even read this far, remember it's about twelve lines max goblin..." reminded the slot to the goblin as the next bout of raw portuguese is hurled wildly across the bistro canopy again, the goblin ducks to avoid it, that is, while hitting the post button feeding the slot here, somehow his post was done he knew, yet he still wondered if anyone actually read this far, surely no one was ever that desperate


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repost from elsewhere "Last thing your character said to you" thread on a writer's site

"...goodie..." said the goblin knowing that there was nothing that quite equates to really supporting a forum like actual posts here, as the little child drank her hot milk with a smile now hidden behind those large white rings that had formed around her mouth, the bistro, almost empty, seemed quiet at this point, the goblin just continued "...but a dialog needs to be coupled with narration, or it will still look and feel like first person, albeit in inverted commas, or with the names written to the left that is, so one needs to portray the situation imaginatively on the one hand here, while bringing the characters to life with the other...", not the goblin himself understood any of this, as his eyes were still on the little girl waiting her chance to wipe her mouth firmly on that sleeve or whatever while her mother, seated opposite behind some splayed newspaper, repeated some mantra of "...yes, yes, oh really, and what did you do next dear..." to which the little girl, equally oblivious, gaily recounted her rather short "life's story" complete with exploding hand gestures for the umpteenth time, which was cool the goblin thought, save that he knew that he still had to find some "dialog text" to post here so he waited upon his muse again but his docile mind, like that slowly setting sky outside, seemed a continuous blanc, somehow the goblin just envied the little girl her unquestionable ability then


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repost from elsewhere, the lupusbots "last post" thread

the goblin often wondered how xxxxx and the other lupusbots, could put up with him, but he liked it here, and them too, somehow the goblin needed to feel their courage each time, and take it for his own at times, for if they could "read on" like this, then surely the goblin too, could "write on" with them then, "...well it's the last person to post here wins thread isn't it, where this site, together with this thread too, is only for winners here...." ventured the goblin knowing that winners needed something to win against that is, continuing "...and while one has this little moment, which is, after all, all that any of us really has anyway, one can't lose this game for one can always post back winning it again and again..." said the goblin ever sketching what he encountered, adding "...funny how this simple defiance of silence on my part, and of one's situation on your part, makes heroes of us all like this, so who's for winning then..." asked the goblin as if already knowing their answer


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repost from elsewhere, the "what are you thinking" thread

the goblin was thinking that if one pays danegeld, then more danes will just show up, much as in the case where if the government offers some amnesty to illegal immigrants a new influx of them will come, "...so these bailout packages too, are simply those same amnesties or danegelt then, that send a message to the banks that their bad loans have an intrinsic value that the government is willing to underwrite here, so if anything those bad loans become a safer bet than their good loan counterparts if simply because, for the lender, there's no worry about any default on the part of the borrower, because the loan is met by the government instead, and if anything too, shareholders are more likely to then invest now in those banks that are too important for the government to let fail as long as they have bad loans on their books now..." said the goblin feeling that it was clearly a case of good money spent on bad here, and that it sent a signal to banks, and investors alike, that bad lending practices were excellent fiscally policy if and where the government fears the dire consequence of it


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repost from elsewhere

morning, and the goblin's bistro session is full swing now but his thoughts were still random, simply he was finding his depth again, explaining "...actually, you win each time you post something, yes, but in fact one wins wherever one posts too, oh yes, not just on some "last post" thread now..." continuing "...and yet, isn't dailylife always calling one away with its needs each time, until one notices the duration of time rendered to dailylife against all that one has, or moreover might of, posted on forumland, feeling cheated perhaps, blaming oneself for not having posted more often at more depth then...", the goblin was being rhetorical now, looking at himself again, where he knew he never won against anyone else here, for they too had their own journey to self to make, just that the goblin was fed up with conceding to his dailylife, with all its too compelling petty concerns, yet more time then, sighing "...oh, and dailylife my dear humans is passed master at creating all sorts of plausible reasons for one to break off one's journey to self here, in a life that is ever shorter than one supposes..."


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repost from elsewhere

the goblin was thinking, no, more like begging in fact, that the fed, or the bank of england, or whichever other financial institution, would just stop announcing through ourdearmedia that they have once more lowered their minimal lending rate to whatever new rate now, "...the minimal lending rate simply has no bearing to whether a lender will actually lend in this case, for if they won't lend the money in the first place, then surely at whichever rate that they won't lend money at, is actually irrelevant, and means nothing now..." ventured the goblin at the media's hype, perhaps wishing for something a little more tangible from the powers that be now


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repost from elsewhere

"...so this then is my liveable contradiction..." mentioned the goblin, as a somewhat lethargic clock waited upon its passing seconds once more, somehow a cold morgue like kitchen was at this point the very centre of the goblin's silent still universe at this point, well, for at least for the short duration before the others in his family awoke, where and when, no doubt, they would just perform their ritual of readying for work, school, whatever in earnest around him, perhaps even at times dragging him into their plots with various requests and questions, until they too, ready, would simply depart leaving the goblin once more typing to a now half drunk coffee and his jumble of disconnected fleeting thoughts, "...should I tell the readers then..." asked the goblin to himself now, continuing "...confess to them that is, that although they might want more of me, that this is all of me that there is, just another nobody stuck within his little dailylife doing the same old crap that everyone else does..." but the goblin had always been trapped like this, caught between a promise to his wife of an unequivocal anonymity towards forumland, and by that other promise, the one to his muse that he would make that journey to self by posting onwards, "...so this mask becomes real enough, where this does indeed become a liveable contradiction in practice..." voiced the goblin in the vague morning light


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Don't stop now!

Unbeknownst to you, I have been copying your material all along. I have also taken it upon myself to rewrite it, paraphrasing to just the degree necessary to call it my own. So, if you possess anything like a Christmas spirit and a charitable nature, you will not stop.

 

("...be my guest, take whatever you wish and good luck too..." replied the goblin thanking storch then, adding "...either way I'm running far behind the hitcount now, the idea being a post per 25hits so here is some christmas ones as you requested...")

repost from elsewhere,

the goblin guessed that soon he would be unable to post too, that christmas food would just bury his mind completely, yes the goblin was aware of his own limits, understood the stupidity of eating like a hog, drinking like a fish and watching television like a zombie, and yet somehow christmas wouldn't be christmas without the goblin doing just that and shouting "...oh yes, I can still do it folks, just you watch me now..." only to be amazed at the depth of his own self-delusion a couple of hours later


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repost form elsewhere

"...alas, not a whole list but I do have a wish then, that just perhaps now, and only once even, if I could have a dream, and within that dream to suddenly find myself reliving some that christmas day of my childhood, and just to be able to say a clear "thank you" to all of them there, and have again those senses of sight smell touch and sound that are so dulled in my adulthood today, and where too, all these adult calculations towards whatever consequences could just melt away to some childlike elation that just being part of my whole family as it once was..." mentioned the goblin as if reaching back, adding "...so now, if you ask me what do I wish for christmas, I'd like to emulate their benchmark for sure, but that dream would be something, no perhaps it would everything even..."


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repost form elsewhere, the heavy metal site's "last post" thread

“...well, it just happened in an instant, and he was just there right in front all of them, it was like wow, he was absolutely electric, as this god like voice just took over from the music with a microphone that seemed to the capture both speakers and those onlooking fans alike, its unbridled words crashing into ones conscience like a wave of perfection, at perfect pitch, he sang “...I'm dreaming of a white christmas...” as a primeval surge went up from the gig joint at that point, continuing “...just like the ones I used to know...”, I tell you this guy could do no wrong now, the fans were simply his as if transcended at this point, fed on an ambrosia that only a real artist like this could offer “...where the treetops glisten and children listen to hear sleigh bells in the snow...”, magic!, you'll be hearing a lot more of this guy for sure, just remember the name "bing crosby" and that you heard it first here folks


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In fairness to yourself, you should consider that there was a week or so (maybe longer) when the view-counter wasn't working. Just sayin'.