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

repost from elsewhere

the goblin too, felt he now had to put a little bit more into his posts, perhaps the goblin would do a few more depictions then, somehow he was not seeing what he saw for what it meant, saying "...depictions force one to describe it, which in turn forces one to look at it more closely...", the muse was watching, her trick was either to give the idea to the goblin outright, or to jump in half way through his text and change everything to her liking, which admittedly was normally mad enough to have the goblin running behind her to trying to keep up with the beauty of it, simply, she was like ones granny doing a poll dance, where one doesn't want to actually look, nor miss it for the world


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repost from elsewhere, on posting

"...ah now, one only really wins here when one is truly empty inside..." said the goblin, continuing "...otherwise the slot just laughs and follows you around simply waiting upon one's return...", somehow, for the goblin at least, "winning" was merely going to the point where he felt he had used up all his ideas once more, "...yes, that's my breaking point I suppose..." remarked the goblin now, "...well goblin, are you broke yet, or are there still more posts in you, I always hungry..." asked the slot inquisitively, and what cunning creatures those slots were


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repost from elsewhere

"...hi everyone, yes sorry, still squatting on the thread here..." said the goblin who was taking a break by visiting his old folks over the weekend in england, something the goblin did often enough always remembering to gently shout at the top of one voice, slam the door when entering the room and risk of being slowly drowned in tea and lemon cake, "...more tea..." comes the voice from downstairs followed by a the ghost in the silence that seems to still say "...and have you done your homework, had your bath, and brushed your teeth yet..."


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repost from elsewhere

"... well. I guess I can't really keep track of my posts, but at least I can repost some of those posts on another site like here in a neater order..." answered the goblin looked across at the plume of smoke ushered sideways in the breeze, the day was beautifully bright and inviting, yes it was that, but it was that for a wrong reason the goblin felt, as a ghastly cold awaited anyone reckless enough to go out to the bistro on this very early morning, and yet again the goblin's choice, he surmised, was a stark one indeed, either to "stay home and get roped into a series of household chores by the captain" or "swim it through the bitter cold to the bistro where he could still be called back by telephone" so, as always, the goblin's mind made a quick checklist of probable chores against another list of possible excuses while wondered if running a bath would stir the antagonists from their beds on this "Sunday lie-in", somehow the bath would be a deep one he guessed


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repost from elsewhere

the goblin saw it clearly now, that he had to bow to the pressure of his oncoming old age, as slowly an unwelcome moderation to his lifestyle was being forced upon him, the goblin observed too, how he had struck compromise after compromise between some prison like need for self preservation, and some wish for at least some reckless behavior, simply the goblin lamented the truth here, saying "...how those consequences kill that dashful spirit in us all, where my youth was a folly of "no tomorrow" then..." but the goblin compromises now, he surrenders to his growing old age within his dailylife, "...ah yes, but there will be no such surrender on forumland here..." voiced the goblin in a firm promise


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repost from elsewhere, a moment in the past

the email reads that the goblin's mother (86 years old) might not be able to swallow, the goblin understood that the family would bulk at having her force fed with tubes, so the goblin replied to his father typing "...I know we hope that we haven't yet reached that point but, as always, simply I go along in supporting any decision you take or plans you make, also I think going naturally "without distress" is what my mother would have wanted if one was talking to her before this illness took her reason away from her, so I imagine there isn't anyone who wouldn't wish to go out in dignity so your decision for her would be once more the correct one for her here I feel..." and with that the goblin had to choose another postcard to write to his mother again as she would like to see pictures of the mountains, while dad, when he received it, would then read it to her if she was awake but what was written on the postcard didn't matter, only that she would feel that something nice had happened, the postcard seemed another slot asking for feeding "...so slot shall we tell her of the flowers in bloom, of the blue sky and of the breeze that floats the clouds across the alps then..." "...goblin, let me swallow for her then..." said the slot now in a whisper


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Replace Goblin With "GLEN", And This Post Describes My Point In Life

To Perfection...



Cheers Glen.

 

("...thanks Glenglen..." replied the goblin appreciating the company now, adding "...the fact that I am anonymous means that I can be openly honest with myself in my posts, where I suspect too, that one's internet self, in other words one's alter ego then, is much like some on-line peter pan recording the demise of wendy, in other words one's real self self then, yet both are me like two sides on the same coin, just inner and outer selves perhaps...", and yes the goblin had written about it extensively about it, and yet, like most other thoughts he had nothing was ever conclusive

repost from elsewhere

the goblin remembered kipling's son, and how in the great war the son had used a pseudonym to hide that he was the famous author's son, and then when he died he was buried along with the other soldiers while his father spent his whole life trying to find out what happened, only to die without the answer, and then years later, the record turned up the exact grave of kipling's son completing the tragic story, "...now, had the son lived, or if the father had found the record, there would be no tragedy here, just that tragedy needs the sense of injustice to seem all the more tragic then..." ventured the goblin at it


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("...thanks for reading these posts then..." mentioned the goblin who intended to do one post per fifteen hits, saying "...about two or three posts a day perhaps...")

repost from elsewhere

meanwhile, back in gotham city, batman and robin burst onto the scene, "...drat..." as batman's fist hits his cupped hand "..robin I don't get it, this goblin guy is always one step ahead of us, worse I'm sure he's a linux penguin too, he's got to have a weakness if only we could find it robin, then we'd have him for sure, robin what we need is a plan...", "...batman, what say you that me and my merry men joineth this brigand in gotham forest yonder and there offer council that he may yet steal but from the rich to offer unto the poor...", "...alright robin what's that in english and start the sentence with "holy cow batman"...", "...prithy who sayeth "holy cow batman" in this here age thus, t'is but a fabrication of the mind's eye m'thinks, come let us settle on "haynonnyno batman" t'is wisdom is it not...", the waitress interrupts the goblin's string of thought "...excuse me could you pay your coffee it's 3 francs please, oh let me guess, you're a writer...", "...well sort of I'm a dyslexic with multipersonality disorder and a posting addiction...", "...great I've never met one of those, could I have a signature in case you become famous and then die, thanks...","...here you go then, by the way do you know sometimes I wonder if the gods might actually envy us our mortality now...", "...oh that's too deep for me, sorry, but thanks anyway..."


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repost from elsewhere

and with that the goblin just explained it, saying"...this thread is a book of sorts, and yes there are millions of real books out there, and almost every one of them was better than this one, but they all had one thing in common, they were all dead and published whereas here, where one is both reader and writer now, posters just get woven into these pages...", the goblin then smiled looking at the slot again, "...take that journey to self goblin, while you still can that is..." it repeated to the goblin once more, adding "...goblin, dailylife and that moneygod will just leave you feeling empty and cheap, so who are you really on the inside here, don't you want to know who you are by what you post then, so make each post count now, write in the post itself, and become a livewriter while there's still time for that time was never enough to begin with..."


11 49 720

 

repost from elsewhere

the idea perhaps was “wearing the specs of the site”, but it wasn't so much that the goblin compromised, or changed himself to fit into style of the site so much as the site itself changed him and his view of his posting towards it, “...simply, I slowly become more like those forums that I am active on, that's all...", where the opposite would be some insensitive troll who never changes with the forum/venue, concluding "...so wearing the specs is an important consideration in choosing the forum/venue then, that's all..."


12 50 735

 

repost from elsewhere

the goblin was feeling better, but he understood that life, as one gets older, shuns the elderly for being old, ugly, or whatever, but the goblin knew too, that it was "all up to him now", in that, if he had to become someone old, that is, treated like some iceberg in the eyes of others, then like that iceberg then, only one fifth of him would remain visible as in his dailylife where that other four fifths of him would be submerged in this internet as something far more than either that man in the mirror, or any other of those real-life fettering categorizations could offer, so he simply repeated "...you and I are what we create here, and my internet-self, my persona then, is going to be amazingly deep and real, promise, or I will die trying, no, let's make it both of those aims here, for this is my journey to self here, which becomes one's journey to death too..."


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repost from elsewhere

the goblin somehow agreed with everyone again, "...the flower of youth, pollinated, fruits into mommies" said the goblin, continuing "...men are tricked by beauty, women are tricked by babies and years later one is looking at one's offspring who won't listen to us anymore than we listened to our parents..." related the goblin who had been told to get the groceries by his better half


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repost from elsewhere

the goblin ventured "...if one is not "last" then one is "past", where the great thing about this game is the chance to post again...", the coffee kicked in so the goblin continued "...me, I am just happy that I still have that chance to post something wonderful, no, I might not post it today, nor tomorrow neither, just whenever then, but who knows what lies within oneself until one comes across it, but then again, one won't come across anything if one doesn't first try to post something of oneself each time..."


12 53 800

 

repost form elsewhere

"...good, it's late evening..." said the goblin looking across the bistro passed the noisy bustle to the silent street outside, the cold had simply ushered the living indoors and everything here was as if to say "I am so very much alive by this", romance, loud conversation, thumping music, etc., all lent to a feeling that this bistro was somehow drifting upon the night's sea, perhaps then this happy journey in posts too was what the goblin wished for the members of this forum here, "...bon voyage...." he could hear himself saying wishing them on now


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repost from elsewhere

nighttime casts its spell over the goblin, as he felt once more at one with the darkness, his tread was light now, his senses more acute from the walk he had decided on, the reward was an animal like serenity, a purpose without thought or an emotion without understanding, "...well if they had wondered if you're wacko before, they'll know for sure now goblin..." ventured the sandman but the goblin thought not


12 55 830

 

repost from elsewhere

goblin's lonely harts page:
dyslexic, hunted by ghosts, a mad muse and an ever hungry slot does not seek similar, if interested, you are not normal, contact:
http://www.thispagecannotbedisplayed.com/

my photo:

10 56 845

 

repost from elsewhere

the goblin remembered too, those white chalk stones clearly but there were none where his childhood beach was, he had first seen them and only seen them on the car drive down to cornwall, even now they still conjured up the relentless wind streaming in from the sea to the goblin who, refusing to turn his head away from the view, had born the brunt for as long as he could till, in the end, the teasing cold sea wind had eventually forced the goblin to look away, and in that sole instant, that the goblin had blinked that is, his laughing past had snatched the moment from his then present, "...next time I won't look away, ever..." he had promised himself ever since but the muse just laughed saying "...silly goblin, you can't out stare the sea, you should know that much, ah but goblin, if you look long enough the sea might just wink at you instead..." the goblin smiled at the thought, the muse just had a way with ideas then


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repost from elsewhere, someone who had asked the goblin to post on other threads too

the goblin thanked the poster for the invite, "...I am someone who looks at many hundreds of threads but only ever posts to very few..." said the goblin honestly adding "...in fact, maybe I make one or two posts a day if I am lucky that is but each post is well thought out...", at which point the goblin didn't know how to put it otherwise saying "...well, suppose you felt that your life was short, how else would you go about your posting then.."


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repost from elsewhere

a sunny Sunday and the goblin, feeling guilty that he has spent all day on his computer at home, goes out in the spirit of addressing the problem, turns two corners and walks into the nearest bistro where he connects up his laptop to the WIFI again, where he can almost feel himself utter "...hi honey I'm home..."


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