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

repost from elsewhere

the goblin felt that orison319's secrect undercover work at the hipforum riverdance club was getting close to uncovering their big secret now as he managed to take this one secret video of the forum's ringleaders here, for he was coy indeed, yes he had them all fooled into thinking that he too was one of them then, and somehow too, even the goblin had to admit that his impersonation was very convincing


6 119 1810

 

repost from elsewhere

"...no problem everyone, my fault, guess I am pretty random at times..." voiced the goblin now looking at that falling snow through those large french windows again, where only a fair sized yellow "M" stuck tight upon the frozen glass betrayed any reality here, where ever this growing old cold reality the goblin tried so hard to counter balance here was his virtual escape then, "...me, I deal with ghosts I suppose, most writers do, they pop up offering their candidacy whenever I ask myself "so now, what's worth posting at this point", or while I sift through my thoughts as if to prove, to myself at least, that I too, am not quite as dead as those ghost are...", meanwhile the constant falling snow just seemed like a slowly closing curtain upon the growing old reality outside, simply his dailylife as the goblin often called it was a slow but relentless act


20 120 1830

 

repost from elsewhere

the goblin finds himself watching the US open tennis match between the woman who looks like a runaway farm tractor and the man in drag it seems, "...actually I am all for the reintroduction of women in woman's tennis..." concludes the goblin again


21 121 1850

 

repost from elsewhere

the goblin just reminded himself that the trees pumped coloring into their leaves before they fell, and that all this theoretically wasted effort was just to tell insects which trees they were by the color of those dead leaves that would then rot away into nothing, "...who knows, perhaps like some of those same leaves, I too, am trying to gain color before I finally fall too..." mused the goblin looking across at autumn's short beauty now in his own autumn years


21 122 1870

 

repost from elsewhere

the goblin was happy with whatever dailylife threw at him, "...ah, but to think of dailylife as merely "cause and effect" here, and of the mind as "a mere machine" made up from its parts, is probably as wrong as thinking that some picture was the sum total of number of those painted brushed across its surface..." mused the goblin, who continued "...well perhaps my mind is a controlled madness even, with umpteen necessary and unnecessary speculations and reactions built up first upon the environment around it, and then upon itself in its own reflections here...", something that made the goblin think back to his being anonymous and his own personal goal here, that of creating a gap between his dailylife and that other part of him seemed above those binds then, the part that held fast to its own set of values, continuing "...you see, dailylife hates anonymity because there is no fame and fortune for it to corrupt you with..."


21 123 1890

 

repost from elsewhere, encouraging an admin to stay the course

and then the goblin just borrowed this space to thank xxxxx for not giving up on her forum, repeating "...your forum should be like your home, decorate it thinking that someone might visit, yes, and enjoy it when they do, but avoid that trap of having your home solely for the enjoyment of your guests...", the goblin paused and then suggested "...so why not turn your home into a studio then, or how about a study, or into your garden even..." simply the goblin had been saddened by the number of abandoned forums he had come across where their admins had simply missed the point altogether, repeating "...first and foremost one's forum should be like a storeroom of self of all those things one likes or cares about, simply it has to selfish or it becomes selfless where no one can be selfless indefinitely to those dead forums then..." voiced the goblin who suddenly noticed the presence of the well established trees around him and those visiting song birds that nested within their branches, and yet the trees were never there for the birds sake, concluding "...forumland is a forest of forums, each admin, like a tree has to grow over the years it takes..."


21 124 1910

 

repost from elsewhere

the goblin knew he had to explain more here, "...simply, I am across many random threads meaning that often in replying to one thread an answer can be adapted and used elsewhere..." at which point the goblin remembered that the clock on the wall was a strange creature and had a nasty habit of jumping the minute hand while the goblin wasn't looking "...ah yes, never trust clocks when one is engrossed in posting I say, thieves the lot of them..." ventured the goblin knowing that when the clock stole time it was usually worth it


22 125 1940

 

repost from elsewhere

the goblin himself had been haunted by the old executioner's line est is sic nocens morior, which roughly translates to is it so bad to die, no, not in some silly abrupt action of his part but more in contemplating what is after all an inevitable arrival for all of us, "...well then, is this the point of hemingway's the old man and the sea book, and is that too, what we're doing here on these threads then..." asked the goblin but that old roman line just pulled the goblin onwards ever out into deeper water with each passing thought upon it


22 126 1970

 

repost from elsewhere, the "what are you doing" thread somewhere

funny day today, feels the goblin, who has bought his coffee in a new coffeeroom, and although the music is nice, the wifi works, and the coffee itself isn't bad for its price, this once empty bistro has slowly filled up with women, not a bad thing in itself but each woman had short hair, jeans and a jumper, they would look at the goblin oddly, and then continue their conversations, normal thought the goblin since he was hardy young any more, so the goblin just continued tapping his keyboard while the women laughed and smiled and seems very friendly to one another, holding hands, etc., until it dawned on the goblin that he must be in some tom-boy club "...I'll have another coffee, it's a really nice place you have here..." the goblin said to the girl at the counter slightly shocked, "...your welcome..." she replied, smiling back now, as if knowing where they both stood then


22 127 1990

 

repost from elsewhere

in fact, the goblin sharpened his mind with coffee and WIFI, his life was a fight to reach in and drag "it", whatever "it" was, out, only that umpteen trivial calculations relating to dailylife got in the way, the goblin had to keep reminding himself that one has to live life and not have life living one, saying "...honestly, at times, I can feel myself simply disappearing into the woodwork of some easy dailylife of personal gain...", where somehow that image, of those boys being turned into donkeys in the book "Pinocchio", sprang to the goblin's mind now, save that the goblin was a grownup at this point, and yet that sweet temptation still remained all around him, just dailylife didn't want the goblin to think beyond its concerns


22 128 2010

 

repost from elsewhere

"...feed me goblin, so many ghosts and so few posts...", "...but slot, what if many of those ghosts and still alive...", "...well just post their live ghosts then goblin, that's what the present becomes anyway, besides you promised the muse and had better do it before you become a ghost too...", "...ok alright slot, I remember it's "honesty, a shared life and thick skin" but I never thought this muse pact thingy would be so weird to live through, I mean they're everywhere and anytime...", "...goblin, people have their memories, writers have their ghosts, that's all, and those ghosts own you until you dispel them with you pen and that is all there is to it..." and with that the hungry slot and the haunted goblin just looked at each other as the ghosts closed in for the post


22 129 2040

 

repost from elsewhere

the goblin felt that if one looked hard enough at ones life through his coffee, one might see someone looking back, "...often the question is just how hard one wants to look a the picture here..." he ventured


22page 130posts 2060hits

 

("...have you found the man in the picture amongst the coffee beans yet..." asked the goblin)

repost from elsewhere

the goblin just reminded himself of something, saying "...perhaps people who don't reflect are like vampires then, ever dependent on the blood of others to sustain themselves, but I, deep within myself, want to produce blood, where posts are the lifeblood of a forum as if proving one's reflection to oneself..." and with that in mind then, the goblin posted ever on


23 131 2080

 

repost from elsewhere

in fact, the goblin knew that neither the number of posts nor the hitcount actually meant anything, no what mattered was the fact that in this one lone moment the goblin had posted once more against the part of himself that always muttered "...why bother goblin..", to which the goblin just found himself repeating something, saying "...whatever one does, time's snow will eventually cover one's tracts, same fate for us all there, but still I like to hear the sound of this compacting snow under my shoes as I tread down this thread then, why because all one ever has is this moment here, and ever a simple choice between posting on and remaining silent in the time remaining..."


23 132 2100

 

the man in the coffee


23 133 2120

 

repost from elsewhere

the goblin liked seeing replies, saying "...but no, don't post for my sake, nor for anyone's sake, nor even for the forums's sake, just think of this thread as a bare wall ready for your spray can and spray for yourself..."


23 134 2140

 

repost from elsewhere

by now, the goblin had learned to kept a truce with time, saying "...simple, if I don't trust time, it won't fluster me nor run off on me now, and if I don't wait on time, it won't drag its feet either...", somehow that image then, of time as a small child enjoying some playground in the park, sprang to the goblin's mind now, saying "...ah yes, one lets it free to do what it likes I suppose, but never free enough to let it wander off unnoticed..."


23 135 2160

 

repost from elsewhere

the goblin was simple enough, saying "...well, much of what I write is based on the question what in my life is worth posting, where, if something is, I try to see if I can catch it within a text...", and then the search was on to find some picture that must underline whatever the text has portrayed, saying "...well yes, rather like a clothes statement I suppose...", where finally the goblin would post it away to forumland while storing a copy perhaps to see who he was by what he posted, or to reuse elsewhere too, so all this just his journey to self as he now called it and yet his outlook, moreover his relationship to forumland too, had been changed by it, simply he was lucky to be alive and able to create posts where forumland seemed to nurture those who would create posts


23 135 2180

 

repost from elsewhere

the goblin was feeling mad today, usually a good sign he felt, so he held up and looked a the tin of baked beans which he noted read "by appointment of her majesty the queen" and then wondered if, when, and how, she actually ate them


23 135 2100

 

repost from elsewhere

the goblin's madness continued with his saying "...some things are like peter pan's statue, they mark the passage of ones life, it's like it was there when, as a small child, one aimlessly passes the statue not knowing why someone has brought you there at all, feeling cheated from watching the television perhaps, later one might do a school visit then or try to impress some potential partner with a boat ride in summer or the colors of the park's autumn or a quarrel in winter, etc., later you're bringing your own bored children there too, till finally you just want to go back there alone one more time to recollect the passing times of one's life once more..." the goblin paused for a second, then continued as if counting these statues to himself "...not all of my statues have survived and those broken under the passage of time I have long learned to avoid revisiting, but some, like the statue of peter pan in kensington gardens is exactly this then, as if, like that fictional character in the book, one shares wendy's fate with ones own memories...", perhaps the goblin wondered if these posts too would become like some statue of him then


23 136 2120