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

repost from elsewhere

the goblin thanked everybody, "...in fact I am a very much into this forum, following the main posts here, the nearest I can put it as, is my being like that toy in your cereal packet that falls out with the flakes, something inedible and useless, and yet somehow reminding one of some point back in one's childhood perhaps..." ventured the goblin at the breakfast table in the quiet stillness of the pre-dawn air, just the goblin never could really slept away those hours he had planned for himself the night before in his ageing vanity


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repost from elsewhere

the goth goblin in his sudden transformation was now pondering the dark side of marri's eyeliner while remaining sacrificially gentle, yes but ever so melancholy in his own sombre deep goth deathlike reflections, lamenting "...is this a coffee which I see before me, the handle toward my hand, come, let me clutch thee, I have thee not, and yet I see thee stills, art thou not, fatal vision, sensible to feeling as to sight, or art thou but a coffee of the goblin's mind, a false creation..." as the ravens danced with the bats and the forumbots around the goblin's laptop to a all to a somewhat bemused muse and an overfed slot, who swallowed the scene whole, wondering perhaps, if starting an edit thread at an emo-goth forum had been one of the goblin's better ideas today


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repost from elsewhere, on being asked about the goth's forum where the goblin had started an edit thread upon it

"...no that forum has just started up..." replied the goblin "...actually, apart from what goth looks like dress-wise I haven't got a clue, so I'm wondering if my posting neogothic works by byron and shelley would help..." ventured the goblin adding "...and then I've got some photos of 14th century cathedrals too, and what about "the hundred years war right on to the war or the roses", not forgetting quotes for shakespeare's richard III, like "now is the winter of our discontent made glorious summer by this son of york", perfect don't you think..." mused the goblin knowing that he would never actually post it as he always supported forums starting up even if the mere thought of it did make his fingers twitch in goblinlike deviousness, adding "...but first I need some black eyeliner..."


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repost from elsewhere

"...too true..." replied the goblin, adding "...but actually it's a battle against one's own indifference here, in that first one sets a quota like "one post a day", asking oneself what in my life is worth posting, then one types out a text, perhaps adding a matching picture to dress it, where then one posts the result across as many "last post" threads as one can so as not to lose it, afterwhich one just dies like everyone else does...", at which point most people think "well why bother then" but the goblin knew that that was the difference between a shared and an unshared life, and that most people hadn't the slightest clue what that meant as they were probably too caught up in their dailylife and all that bidding of the moneygod again to simply see it for themselves, whereupon the goblin just spelled it out now, saying "...their muse sleeps I guess, well that's their choice perhaps, but not mine now, ah no, I want to know myself by what I post..."


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repost from elsewhere, 1/3 part

and suddenly the goblin noticed that there could be no escape from Thursday island he knew as the tropical night had descended too quickly but somewhere out there in the still darkness could be heard the sounds of the creature the natives just called the abductress, the goblin, kicking himself, had not believed till now, nor heeded their warnings of her powers of seduction, her tantalizing beauty and her insatiable passion for dancing to "country and western" music, the goblin thought of a place to hide now, saying "...right, quick, under the bed ..." he bent down lifted the bedcover and gasped as her face smiled back saying "...hello goblin, looking for me, shall we dance then, you'll dance for me won't you, it's "country and western"..." as the music started and his body, no longer his, started jigging away


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repost from elsewhere, 2/3 part

still spellbound, the goblin ever dancing to "country and western" music, fought this love-like feeling now rising up within him, yet every passion inside simply seemed attentive to her inescapable looks, her silk soft feel, her sweet smell oh and that angel's voice "...you like our music goblin, don't you just feel like dancing your life away with me now, forever goblin, think about it...", "...no, actually I can't..." he started out to say but then gazing at her perfection, he just lied "...yes the music is moving but...", she gently laughed through the goblin's lie "...think of it, from here at best you'll eventually grow old anyway and die a nobody, ah but no, you could be a hero here, tonight, with me, now, so why live the rest of your little goblin life in a regret that you missed this one big chance since you and I know you want to be a hero, and I can only love a real hero goblin oh but do you really love me enough then goblin...", the music seemed to slow down, their bodies came together and touched, the goblin's thoughts raced through his mind, she was asking the ultimate price in return for her, "...I'm waiting goblin..." running a sharp finger down his back in a tease


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repost from elsewhere, 3/3

still under her spell, every cut-short hero seemed to pass across the goblin's imagination in an endless instant, kennedy, hendrix, dean, lennon, van goth, holly and so many more faces passing in front of his eyes till her voice seemed to break through again "...well my little goblin, this is your chance to never grow old, are you going to be my hero then...", "...I just can't, I have to write more, it's my life to write..." the goblin replied as she broke away form him in disgust and disappointment "...then just wake up you little fool, the rest awaits you..." her contemptuous voice yelled after him as he surfaced to an empty room in the clear morning light, it had been a dream that the goblin had never forgotten so many years now since the time the goblin had first dreamed it


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repost from elsewhere

the goblin picks up the ringing phone and says his usual "...bond...., james bond...", "...ah pups, still that old line then, well we haven't changed, guess life can't change us..." said the goblin's own voice back at him from the other end of the line only that it was him as he had been in his youth, it continued "... anyway I can hear that I lived, so do I marry and have children then, what do I become of myself...", "...well now..." said the older goblin somewhat used to this sort of thing "...well yes I suppose, all that, you simply throw away all your youthful freedoms willynilly for some trappings of family life and those trinkets of the moneygod, you'll be basically happy but you won't quite fit into your own life it seems, mind you, I wonder who ever neatly fits into growing older...", "...cool, any advice then for my future, pups..." asked the youthful goblin thinking the question would please rather than actually wanting to listen, "...if you don't live your life at surface level, I will be proud of you I guess..." the goblin replied knowing he was wasting his breath, "...sure pups, you take care of myself then, ciou..." as they closed the conversation and put their phones down somehow neither really understood the other but they never had



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repost from elsewhere, a british forum's edit thread

"...ah, so you want to know more about english women, mr goblin..." emma said effortlessly ducking under the cyborg's swing that had left a gaping hole in the farm wall "...the trick mr goblin..." she continued dodging the cyborg's every trust and drawing it ever closer to the duck pond "...is..." but the goblin beat her to it saying "...is to get the cyborg to hit the cameraman I suppose mrs peal...", "...well no, I hadn't thought of that I mean, is to play it out till steed gets back from the drinks bar so that I can powder my nose, actually I rather fancy this cyborg's naughty rough ways with me...", "...oh I get it, it's that "english romance" thing I suppose..." ventured the goblin, "...precisely, now cyborg I want you to beg first..." she whispered "...fab, that's it Emma..." said the cameraman "...and cut..."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tvmgrnsaE1U&feature=related"]The Avengers TV intro (1965) - YouTube


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repost from elsewhere, from a "last post" thread

the goblin knew that they would always be friends, "...well the score is more or less the grim reaper's game now, and she does a great job at it..." said the goblin approximating her to a skeleton pointing at an hourglass with one hand while taping the goblin's empty posting slot with her index finger with the other, "...oh boy these score keepers are good..." concluded the goblin again as he once more tried to catch his evasive thoughts, within the time remaining that is


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repost from elsewhere

the goblin knew that he could stop posting on these "last post" threads if he wished, but by now he couldn't stop thinking in terms of things "worth posting" to them, and the goblin also understood that whatever he found "worth posting" usually became just that more precise to him by committing it to text on "last post" threads, ah but often it was the opposite for him too, in that, at times the goblin arrived here with nothing at all "worth posting" only to surprise himself by what he had thought up on the spot in reply to someone, "...so posting is like dancing, where at times one slips into a trance of one's own thoughts, subjectively..." explained the goblin continuing "...while other times, one's mind is 100% here, objectively, but it's stupid to think of "which is better" where one can have the best of both worlds as if dancing between both worlds then..."


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repost from elsewhere

the goblin was wondering why, when one just wants a decent meaningful picture about something from photobucket, one had to wade through a billion pictures of mundane moronic family snaps, "...I mean one types in "the four horses, death and destruction, please" and sure enough up crops up yet more of those photos of new born babies, people straight out of eastenders, and pets..." lamented the goblin as he slowly climbs his way through them again


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repost from a "woman's interest" site's "last post" thread

the goblin joins the club, he has spent a good hour downloading the ISO image of mint linux to burn to some CDs for friends, he then burns the CD, he then boots the laptop on the CD to install mint linux, installs Mint linux and is very happy until he notices that in formatting the hard drive during the install has lost his original ISO image and has to re'download it again

Glossary:
goblin = a geek who gets his hands dirty swooping computers bits
geek = someone who should not be trusted near your computer
CD = something like a 78 but without the needle or gramophone
operating system = remember that high priest who removed bits and wraps one, well something like him then
ISO = a picture of an operating system, those hieroglyphics of the high priest doing his work
boots = something that takes off the sarcophagus lid


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repost from elsewhere

"...wow, now I remember what a day off is..." said the goblin who had been working non stop for weeks now, where outside the grand metropolis of geneva just awaited all its minion's indulgences once more ever at its price, and yet the goblin himself had learned to live without much beyond his bistro's coffee and the WIFI, in fact looking from the outside now, that pigeonhole of working family man beckoned him neatly into it, but no, there was always something about the goblin which didn't quite succumb to this stereotype here, just his persona kept poking out of his dailylife where he and his dailylife often diverged in this way, simply at his age he couldn't buy into the values of dailylife anymore


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repost from elsewhere

the goblin rarely drank alcohol now, yes only very occasionally having one small glass of white wine in the evening perhaps, yet his drinking today was more like "rolling up one trouser-legs and paddling in its surf", something which the goblin did enjoy whenever it didn't give him that headache he so feared, remarking "...ah, but I'm too old to swim directly out to sea any more, no those carefree drinking days are over now, for the sea would just spit out up a shattered wreck in its wake..."


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("...thanks for reading these posts..." went the goblin, adding "...seems that doing one post per twenty hits is not keeping up with the hitcount so I try one per thirty now...")

repost from elsewhere

"...if that is so, I suppose the question then would be "would you like to think only normally here"..." wondered the goblin somehow knowing that that wasn't what he wanted of himself at all, "...well doesn't one's imagination tell you that there's more to life than dailylife, and that at every turning along the road, one has abnormal thoughts that one's reason keeps both in check and under control...", the goblin paused trying to find the right words to explain that balance between one's imagination on the one side, and one's reason on the other, and then continued by saying "... what if just perhaps one's imagination were like the waves where one's reason was more like gravity here, where those waves of imagination keep washing up all types of thoughts upon the shore of one's mind, where the gravity of one's own reason either then anchored them to beach there, or let them roll back into the sea to be washed up at some other time in a different way with another wave of imagination, either to be anchored or washed back once more, so this perhaps for me is my mind now, abnormal, well who knows how other people's minds think anyway...", at which point the goblin asked in return "...so do you still wish to be thinking "normally", or shouldn't you be wanting more from your imagination perhaps..."


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repost from elsewhere

the goblin remembered being asked this before, perhaps many times now, replying "...simply I am over many many edit threads across forums, where, in the short period that I have started writing this reply now, 2 notifications have arrived and by the time I have finished this text adding a picture no doubt a few more will be there to answer, and where it takes me anything from 10 minutes up to about an hour to make one good text since I refuse to just type just anything, plus there is the time to find the right picture too, which is not easy because I don't know which one I want nor where it is, leaving me usually to choose the best fit instead, and only then, if everything seems right to me do I at last post the piece across those random edit threads usually adding a small individual comment in brackets above the reply/repost where need be, meaning that, unlike someone who could post to many threads upon one forum, believe me I can't as this pace as it is is hectic, and I would have stopped posting way back if I hadn't somehow felt this all to be a journey to self here..." and with that the goblin wished well hoping that, now that he had explained himself, it somehow excused him though it never really did


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repost from elsewhere

"...oh yes, stories perhaps, but actually I prefer reflections, where if it's true that every picture tells a story, then every story should hold a reflection too..." mused the goblin who, even so, often saw pictures that seemed to hold no story at all, and happenings that had no reflection within them, "...in fact, the question for me is "if something gives off no reflection can one really claim to have seen it", so all these reflections that I do on these edit threads are my way of showing myself that I have not let this life pass unseen..." ventured the goblin remembering that seeing and reflecting often built up upon each other, for the goblin was still trying for that goal of a credible persona for his old age, explaining "...in youth one flowers where in middle age one fruits, slowly maturing till one drops into old age and death, but what if somewhere within that discarded husk of self in old age one could just retrain some stone of youthful creativity within it, one's persona then, well wouldn't that end alone make all this effort worth it..."


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repost from elsewhere

the goblin was thinking that christmas wouldn't be christmas without feeling bloated, inebriated and dull before crowning it all by watching those christmas television shows too, "...ah yes, but the preparation has to be just right to really get the most out of ones christmas viewing..." remembered the goblin


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repost from elsewhere

"...I suppose that even my newest stuff gets posted up here eventually, but there isn't anything really "new" as whatever I do usually comes from something I wrote or thought from somewhere or sometime before if I allow myself think about it like that that is..." related the goblin whose coffee seems to float the text on here, where he continued "...ah but that's the advantage of being anonymous in this forumland, because the moment one starts to care about whether one is, or isn't, rehashing, one just becomes hindered, as if somehow looking over ones shoulder all the time, caring when how could it matter where one is entirely unknown, moreover, in polishing some idea, in its being rewritten that is, it often turns into a different creature form its parent..." ventured the goblin, who often borrowed from himself, and without shame that he did so too, in that, his pen just followed his mind that often went around in circles like this


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