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

repost from elsewhere

the goblin was thinking of jimmy hendrix, who, together with janis joplin, formed a tragedy of dying to substance abuse when they had so much talent, but the truth is that the music industries together with the other medias simply embrace and profit from those tragedies, perhaps for the combined advantage that people's attention are turned towards to the dead artist in question, and the fact that the artist is no longer there to get in the way of the producers image portrayal here...", and with that the goblin was readying for work again, somehow beautiful sunny geneva, menaced the goblin's mind with a threat of some inescapable dusty midday heat again, which, if last year was anything to go on, would be unbearable, the muse simply asked "...and how about you goblin, are you tempted by becoming famous in absentia then...", whereupon the goblin just laughed, replying "...ah no, not my style nor on the cards now, but I bet that it's something that crosses every artist's mind at some point..."


44 400 7334

 

You're all in firin' forum this more'n'none! :-D

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qhC0XCwMj1A"]"the bomb" Ayman - YouTube

lol

 

It's as if someone had somehow plugged some electronic device into Storch's brain and downloaded the background music going on in Storch's mind and then put it on You-tube. He wasn't complaining, mind you. He had come to learn how to tap into its incessant driving beat and direct it at others. Was it wrong? Hell, was it even real? He was just playing.

Storch had to admit that the idea of becoming rich and famous had technically never crossed his mind. The idea made it about half-way across, stopped, and then set up what looks to be a permanent camp.

 

You switched videos on me, didn't you? You're attemping to make me look insane, aren't you? Ever been on the business-end of an incessant driving beat? Huh??

 

("...if it any consolation, I really don't think anyone is questioning anybody's sanity here..." pointed out the goblin trying to be comforting now, adding "...no, if they ever did that it would have meant that they had read the post too, where we'd be then questioning their sanity in return...")

repost from elsewhere

"...well goblin..." said the slot, calmly continuing "...it's a paradox of course, but one only truly wins this game when one is utterly empty, when one admits defeat having nothing left within one to post left, otherwise I just laugh waiting for your inevitable return here, so perhaps winning outright is simply admitting to oneself some breaking point here...", the goblin didn't reply, the slot then asked "...so goblin are you beat then, or are there yet more posts from you still...", the silence continued, the goblin was still shuffling his thoughts like some pack of cards in the evening calm, while outside the sound of some odd distant car, at times, cut into continuous chorus of songbirds and his calculations here, till finally, "...well, I suppose slot, that I might try to stop posting if and when I knew that I wasn't posting for myself anymore..." replied the goblin in a moment of honest selfishness, adding "...but more likely instead I would just try to find myself again, why, because this posting has to be selfish or it is lying, has to be me or it is not me, and above all, has to show me who I am by what I post, or it is just a game..."


45

 

repost from elsewhere, another long gone ghost of the past

the goblin's morning had been quiet, where the email had mentioned that the prostrate cancer had moved to bone now, though what exactly that meant hardly sank in as he now realized that he might have to look after dad from this point onwards, dad who, in his turn, had spent these last years visiting the goblin's vegetated mum each week in the home, "...well it could be worse I suppose..." the goblin repeated to himself, continuing "...I mean cancer, for all its faults, does at least announce itself, imagine if it had been some sudden disabilitating stroke..., ...", the goblin broke off from talking or thinking upon it, while outside, that rain that hadn't stopped yesterday morning when the goblin had first seen the mail had stopped now, just the goblin's mental retrenchment seemed complete, where he quickly checked the expiry date of his passport once more along with so many other mundane trivial travel details, knowing perhaps, that this would be a wordless way of saying "thank you" to his parents for his own childhood that is, simply, if it had to be, then it had to be done in earness


45 405 7351

 

Mostest ever my own beating heart thumping on the temple-ate of my mind there ensconced in a cavernous quiet place. Eh.

 

I was kidding Dejavu about trying to make me look insane. Besides, trying to make me look insane would be like trying to make a bald man lood hairless, and I'm sure he understands that.

thedope,

It was really good. Though you start out with a horrific grammar error, the horror is immediiately diluted by the mesmerizing effect of the rest of your words. But then the horror returns in the form of a thoughtless finish. A cavernous quiet place? A cavernous quiet place my ass! Have you any idea how loud the lungs are to any neighboring organs? Know what it's like to hear the constant rush of blood coursing within you and around you 24/7? Or what it's like to be the source of your own incessant, driving beat? You really need to rework the end.

 

Quiet makes room in the end, in the middle and at the beginning for every sound.

Some had managed to get thedope on the junkyard rat in their mind and learned it had nothing to say anyway. Into the quiet comes a still small voice never ceasing to speak but seldom heard amidst the clatter that matters to most.

 

Plus you mixed a few words around in that post. I put them in the right order for you.

Ensconced there in a cavernous quiet place, heart thumping on, ever beating my own mostest, the temple-ate of my mind. Eh?

This has got to be a classic freudian . . . something! I mean, same words, just different order.

 

And in retrospect the end had not quite begun.

 

Dejavu apologized to Storch, for he had switched the track posted not once but twice. :-D

Since we are legion in not wanting to horrify, said Dejavu to the denizens of the thread, if thedope were to adopt his third person, a poor orphan who could do with the nourishment, we could band together and share the responsibility for not scaring the shit out of Stephen King, let alone his living daylights.

He wondered if the goblin had somehow got religion owing to a comment he had made or re-made, he wasn't sure which any more, and about how thedope said he didn't got it, but was studious. He couldn't at all imagine that Storch was religious, but stranger things have happened. As for himself, he'd never got it. Nor had it ever got him.

 

It's dopey i thought if they are legion they are none in particular and I hadn't at all recognized that my third person was such a bastard. Now I'm not so thirsty as wanting to be doped to the point of being well plastered, not forgetting all the while the bastard had been asked after, never in fact having appeared to any one, in person. As an observer he remains forever, unobserved, alluded to none the less.

If only?

Whatever comes, what would one mind be denied?

 

Dejavu had not wanted to speak out of turn, but he had done so inadvertently in encouraging thedope to live up to his lonely namesake. No bastard, but the co-authorized, semi-illegitimate child of utility and redundancy, thedope was intractable, in print at any rate. How many days did one have to utilize the edit function before it becomes redundant? Dejavu was drawn again to the clock. Damn that long and short hand! How he did swiss that people were more loving and less calculating!

 

("...nice reads..." went the goblin)

repost from elsewhere, a religious site's "last post" thread

"...ah yes, that word faith again, but you don't know do you, so what do you actually really know mortals, that you are here, yes, and that your journey to self, journey to death too, is evident, simply all around you now is indisputable as your dailylife is it not, and you could say that you are just the sum total of the trappings of your dailylife here..." mentioned the goblin, thinking dailylife as one's age, how one looks in the mirror, status, money in the bank, etc., continuing "...but me, I know that I am more than that because I keep facing this slot trying to make posts, not as some religion but as a counter-conditioning process to dailylife, so that, after a while, I just see myself from what I post...", the goblin paused, then concluded "...look, "knowing" is all you can go on, and yes you can make pacts with the faiths, just as you can accept the trappings of this dailylife as one's total too, and even amass those trinkets of the moneygod instead, but in the end you'll still be asking yourself "where am I in all this", won't you mortal, because believing is havingfaith in place of actual truth because you have been told to do so, or because it is written as such somewhere, where in fact your sole duty here is to know, so that your journey to self is simply "to know for yourself", not faith then, gnostics don't believe in god, they know him, but they don't know what it is they actually know, hence the journey to self then, but they still know it much like you and I would know death here, yet few go around saying they believe in death, death is just there for those who know it..."


46

 

repost from "welcome new members" thread, elsewhere

the goblin welcomes the new member saying "...actually, it's all hush hush yet I feel I can trust you here, where this site is in fact just a front for the "homeland security service" and their operatives in their ongoing undercover work to root out the threat of cyber terrorism on the internet...", the goblin paused knowing that it was all too hard to comprehend in one go, but he continued "...simply think about it, which site would you least expect a counter cyber-attack to originate from, that is between some ultra smart nerdy eastern block country, the taliban's site, the nigerian spamming site, well any of those types of sites on the one hand, and well, just somewhere like this forum here where the members can, and do, manage to hit the post button correctly from time to time, so that's right then, the members here are really ultra sharp "homeland security" operatives only pretending to be otherwise, very snide of them I know but in fact they're probably the best america has..."


45

 

Enter tar baby then my namesake. I asked tar baby why tar baby and tar baby said, you have polished reflection and people see their reflection in you.

How many times on the edit button tar baby?

She was once twice three times a lady. It takes three scribes of the suns arc to suggest a wave as it rises and falls. Tasted once with my eyes, tasted twice with mandible clenching expectation, and thrice thoroughly swallowed and consumed as hope is nourished to the point of recognition.

We should know by the end of the third trimester.

 

But that there's poetry my dear chap! Said Dejavu, blinking like an idiot. A load of old tosh what? Steady on cobbler, all this waxing oracular could polish you off, added Dejavu, who was pleased to see thedope joining in, third person or not, but couldn't for the life of him imagine what he'd meant by tasting a lady with his mandible.

Dejavu now pondered upon the goblins saying death exists for those that know death. He had no idea who could know death, but the goblin seemed to be suggesting that we do. Wasn't death really a case of its occurrence? Not for anything at all, but rather the only closure of a life that met it in not finding it had enough of itself against it? thedope had recently suggested, nothing more in all fairness, that birth was the cause of death in another thread. Dejavu shook his head, and screwed it on a little tighter. Maybe he'd have to riposte from elsewhere, or at least present here a new pome, that he'd call home, like countless others in the land of the live-writers.

 

Tar baby had burst into popular song via his recollection of the tertium as he triangulated the azimuth. Oops, kind of a mouth fart, that was in reference to the lady like. He remembered liking Ike when he was three, then came Kennedy.

I personally wonder how an idiot blinks.

 

Storch knew that for whatever reason, thedope (I know you chose that avatar to cause others to subliminally feel guilty whenever they address you) was not given to being grateful.