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

repost from elsewhere

"...one can't get rid of one's past..." replied the goblin but the goblin knew that he couldn't explain communicating and coming to terms with one's past though that still didn't stop him wanting to try to explain here saying "...most people have memories but when one is writing they are not neatly buried and forgotten in the back of one's mind somewhere as one digs them up borrowing from them to create one's works as others would create books, paintings, music, poems or whatever I imagine...", and the goblin knew he could give endless examples but instead the goblin just continued "...the oddest sensation is when one is borrowing something and its ghost enters into focus and one is then communicating with it, that is, one is no longer simply writing about one's past in third person, no, one is staring that ghost in the face while reinforcing that ghost in one's mind with one's pen like communicating with it in the here and now, so perhaps that's why I find writing so much more exacting than mere thinking, as if all this were some written tally of my thoughts taken from these communications then..." and with that the goblin crystallized his view saying "...look, if actors can't play the part for real unless they actually get into the part that is, then for writers and livewriters too, it's probably the same thing but moreso..."


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repost from elsewhere, explaining why the goblin had joined the goth forum

"...me too, more eyeliner please..." said the goblin who was first going for a walk along these empty winter streets even if the goblin was never really alone anymore as a mass of thoughts, sane or otherwise, seemed to follow him around now, continuing "...and then I am going to post on that goth forum as there's a dark side within me that I want to release and explore, and besides, wouldn't you agree that it is far better that I do it there at their goth forum, than if I actually turned up at "the Funeral and Embalming Times" forum and directly asked them something like "hi folks, look by any chance, do you have a nice fun and games section where one can start an edit thread between those obituaries..." mused the goblin in his madness still


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repost form elsewhere, a woman's interest, read mommies again, "last post" thread

addressed to the leader of the women's movement

Dear Madame,
If I may just draw your attention to pitfall in withdrawing religious teaching in your movement, that is to say that to date most women have been taught "Jam and Jerusalem" in equal proportion within your movement, whereas one notes that if one were to continue the withdrawal the Jerusalem side your minions will delve ever further into the jam side of things, and jam as we know is in fact a preservative meaning that it is only a short step from the simply preservation of things to their own mummification with the dire consequences one now sees across those women's interest sites, especially on "last post" threads, where those symptoms are, a proliferation of mummies posting all manner cute postable thingies, strange rantings about washing powders, stomping, and above all, living under some strange delusion that the goblin's very own "last post franchise" is somehow theirs now, anyway your attention into this matter, between shopping sprees, lady's nights and the adoration of little pets would be deeply appreciated, I remain.,

Your sinfully,
A. Fleamailman
("last post" thread custodian)


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repost from elsewhere, life in devon

"...oh no, not this moment again..." remarked the goblin to himself looking across the organic coffeeshop in the village of dungford, where the matrons had changed, insomuch as to who they were, but the rest down to each and every food product, tables, chairs and the like were exactly as they were when he had been here before looking after his mother a year almost a year ago, where the goblin himself probably fitted in somewhere between the mums with babies on the one side and the grey sky window view on the other, he typed on, preferring to look out across the window to the people walking down the main street who, if not aimless, were not exactly hurrying either, just "village pace” as the goblin dubbed it, something which the mind accepted in waves of resignation until it no longer could, at which point some smiling men in yellow reflective coats had jumped out of the trash van to remove the black bags, “…look children, their taking away the black bags away…” came a voice from the mum on the next table, the goblin’s eyes followed eagerly in hope till they looked up to the gray sky above without hope, just "village pace" again


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repost from elsewhere

the goblin greatest happiness was both "being alive" and being "able to reflect upon it", "...in fact, I suppose that I could base my happiness on external factors like, "health", "possessions", and "relationships"..." explained the goblin continuing "...but they're external happinesses that ill health, financial ruin, or simple old age could easily erode away, no my happiness, from this point on, must be found from within me and radiate outwards towards dailylife, and not depend on dailylife, since old age will only slap me in the face if I don't aim for something deeper in the end..."


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a reply to that constantly asked what do I win question on "last post" threads

"...the poster wins here a great chance to experience first hand both futility and despair in friendly surroundings..." replied the goblin winning again


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repost form elsewhere, advice to anyone into writing

the goblin knew that writing was never easy, "...too few adjectives and the story seems colourless and monotone whereas each adjective one adds to a storyline is a parameter that one is then tied to, so writers have to keep thinking back to earlier parts of the story to avoid contradiction and confusion on the part of the reader..." mentioned the goblin adding "...think of it like rocks under the flowing story, the other rocks being misspelling, ambiguity, writing style, and length ...", at which point the goblin was thinking that all these rocks are forgiveable if they were only a few and if the story is deep enough to draw the reader over them, though where not, the work simply breaks up upon them leaving the readers floundering..."



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repost from elsewhere

the goblin thanked the poster, for reminding him that life must not pass without posts, and that life must always have something worth posting within it, "...or else what's the point of either life or posting..." mused the goblin unable to find depth at this point as the time racked up the price of his internet usage as he looked around the linux Internet cafe where he was now, no the goblin was here, not because he needed the internet, though admittedly he needed the good coffee, which was true enough, no, it was more because the goblin felt the needed to support something that was neither leaseware nor tie-in in nature, something that was neither microsoft nor mac nor android in outlook then, saying "...all that I have is my anonymity here, and yet that anonymity is everything to me now..."


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("...still can't keep up with the hitcount here, thanks for reading my post then..." went the goblin appreciating the forum and its posters now)

repost from elsewhere

"...at any rate I'll never go there again..." said the goblin as he picked his way through his mailbox, "...for the life of me, those are the silliest edit thread tea-parties I ever was at..." and just as the goblin said this, the goblin noticed that yet another email had the words oh how I hate editing posts, reply notification, "...oh, now that is very curious.." the goblin thought. "...oh but everything is curious today. I think I should go back there and see then..." as the goblin pressed the link which then reads "I win", "...curiouser and curiouser..." exclaimed the goblin continuing "...but we'll soon see about that though..." as the goblin readies his reply and posts "...mortals you step away from sanity if you continue down this path with me here..." but the goblin guessed that it was already too late for many, sanity had never been much fun it seemed


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......:rofl:



Cheers Glen.

 

("...nice to see that there is actually someone else still on this forum then..." went the goblin appreciating GLENGLEN's company, adding "...where as long as this thread generates a reasonable hitcount I'm staying as I need somewhere to edit my posts to a sense of audience and a feeling of deadline...")

repost from elsewhere, the goblin supporting another livewriter whose posts was being mauled by hecklers

the goblin knew that no one is expected to post here feeling that the "last post" thread was more simply a chance to do one's own thing and to be creative by it, so the goblin simply repeated "...well, it's not the tagging of this thread in itself that is going to win one anything much, because the real winning only begins when one actually is asking oneself what in my life is worth posting here and then tries to post something from that standpoint then...", whereupon the goblin smiled, adding "...anyway, life it too short to miss out on what one might have posted, too short again to care about these heckles too, since if you're "good" then the hecklers are wrong and if you're "not good" you're getting better thus proving those hecklers are just wrong once more, but if you ever give up or over compromises towards their constants now, then they win indeed, and you'll have lost the one thing that had been yours all along..."


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repost from elsewhere

the goblin showed up saying "...no purpose to anything really, a forum just is, and its members simply contribute to it, much like dailylife where one just is, and it is lived too I suppose..." said the goblin, as if knowing that wasn't the actual truth, adding "...well, not until one sees its purpose that is, if one comes across one's own purpose within it...", perhaps the goblin was harping back to the idea of the difference between a some floating poster and an actual focused one, knowing that any forum had to be reciprocal to its member's needs or talents for its own prolonged existence, or perhaps the goblin was merely talking about dailylife again, where the prelude to finding one's purpose was often some dark period of self doubt, disillusion, or both, "...anyway, my happiness is in fulfilling my purpose here..." repeated the goblin not clouding the issue with some obscure religious, or some base financial, motive here, "...no, simply through posting I want to catch on the page what I am followig in the mind..." ventured the goblin knowing full well that this wasn't actually happiness at all, no it was just his purpose , adding "...well yes, at any moment I could cast my pen aside, but in doing so my purpose would be lost to me, for what else is there in one's life but one's purpose, our journey then..."


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repost from elsewhere

the goblin liked, and he meant really liked, xxxx's last post a lot suggesting the futility of writing on these edit threads, or in writing anything, "...ah but no, suppose you now reposted, that same post to another edit thread, on a different forum, and then another after that too, and so on, and suppose too, you then collected those posts, that you felt to be up to your benchmark here, into one hidden thread somewhere, something like one's hidden store-thread/blog perhaps, well after six months you would have something special wouldn't you, moreover you would be able to see yourself from what you had posted..." ventured the goblin at it, who was thinking upon that journey to self idea once more, remembering too, his old line again both to live and to post are to win in their ways, but to pile up those wins upon forumland is the real triumph


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repost from elsewhere, that here we go again

"...well that will teach me to write in third person..." said the goblin, as yet another newly joined forum asks the goblin to stop his act with a less than friendly PM warning, "...so then, what should I do now I wonder, argue a losing case till thrown out, or only stick to those forums that accept me, or cave in and write as they expect of me...", the goblin paused as if face the mirror for a moment, and then just continued, saying "...ah no, when I set out to create this lasting persona on forumland here, I knew that I would need every tool going to make it work now, where the narrative of third person is one of literature's greatest gifts to any writer, and besides, the fact that people don't use third person in their posts is their choice now, not mine..." and with that the goblin, having cleared the matter up with himself first, promptly turned off notifications without malice nor comment, saying "...well, if one has to compromise one's writing style, then it's not worth remaining..."


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repost from elsewhere

actually the goblin had a clear idea of just how much effort it took to find the right things for his posts, explaining "...the right text, an underlining picture, or whatever then, are just things that somehow sing to one as one comes across them, much like how a chef would see a finished dish on seeing some basic ingredients here..." continuing "...oh and yes, once they starts singing, one feels one has to create a post with them...", so preparing each post was the goblin's actual work here, where the result was then served up to the reader in hope it would feed them enough to get fed in return, as that was how the goblin grew with the thread then, where he never minded those who heckled, laughed, or looked on, no only he felt they were somehow missing out now


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repost from elsewhere

"...have you washed your hands then..." the voice a little below his view inquired as the goblin approached the counter "...your not going near our books until..., ...", the goblin raised his hands to his ears and turned them slowly "...better, now what do you want, or should I ask, which book are looking for goblin...", the goblin gasped "...but how..., ...", "...only your type look at computers that way and only a laptop user looks for sockets this library.." a face revealed itself not as unpleasant, she focused her eyes on his as the goblin looked back "...what have you got on mummies..." her eyebrows joined in her focus "...mummies..." she repeated his word exactly either as a question or an exclamation, "...yes, I know they' re all supposed to be dead thousands of years ago but not this bunch aren't I swear they're..., ..." the goblin placed a finger on his bag "...your laptop I suppose, I see..." she replied and looked down adding "...well, that would explain why there has been this sudden run on "beginner's jam-making", oh and now you mention it those " embalming for dummies" books too but..., ..." she looked back at the goblin to continue then "...my fault I suppose I started this thread called "the last person to post here wins" on a women's interest site innocently enough but it must have been some time-warp or something, they post jam pink smileys a lot too..." the goblin smiled "...in fact they're not a bad bunch but I haven't a clue what I am dealing with here...", the librarian smiled at a thought "...you know goblin, my bet is that is exactly what they are thinking about you too...." they smiled, then burst out laughing, as the goblin then passed on borrowing a book then, for somehow he knew he was on his own now, the librarian wasn't buying his story


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repost from elsewhere

the goblin had noted that most people's lives of complacency were now heading into a raging storm, "...the trouble is that if the banks don't go to the wall, then the fat cats win, whereas if the banks do go to wall then we lose too, the real question then is which banks should go to the wall I suppose, and which should be bailed out..." said the goblin, adding "...but bailing out the banks with taxpayers money just continues the murky status quo here, since no one knows which banks are clean and which aren't...", at which was the point the goblin also remembered that lowering the bank lending rate meant nothing either, no, not if no one will lead money that is, "...anyway, in spite of the media saying otherwise, the powers that be are bracing for the storm and could even default now, but no one knows what that storm really is in itself, nor what it really means for the its citizens as in us then...", mentioned the goblin, who felt that a mentality of fear and hardship, real or otherwise, was growing ever closer now, and that its momentum didn't need much reality to sustain it, simply it just needed more fear to feed its approach further


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epost from elsewhere, the "what are you thinking" thread last year

the goblin was thinking about how little television he actually watched now that the computer seemed to offer everything in its place, only that in its freedom of choice the computer, unlike the television, didn't force one to watch the news, so the goblin felt that he was often behind in keeping up with the news, saying "...ah, but on the other hand, the news of late does seem somewhat one-sided, where I'm almost glad to be missing it even, and to explain why let's imagine for example, that the british were striking possible IRA sites in ireland from the air, and then massing ground troupes on the boarder for a massive incursion, and then on top of this, that the british were then to announce on behalf of the suffering irish that there was no humanitarian crisis whatsoever, and where, if this was really the case then, that perhaps then the news coverage might possibly be portrayed slightly differently by the american media here, well at least slightly differently than it has in its coverage about the gaza incursion by israel..."


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repost from elsewhere

the goblin was trying to think of faraway places, yet now and again the cold cut through into his thoughts as that ever bitter wind somehow peculated from outside into the silent sitting room today, outside, where the sun should have been, a dull lit sky told the goblin yet again that without gloves and a scarf his hands and face would simply burn stiff with cold, and that it was through this harsh gauntlet of cold then that the wretched goblin now had to go for those groceries once more, "...pass, give this fate to someone else, some super hero, I am not worthy, no, please no..." sighed the goblin in vain recalling those images of the titanic colliding with that grocery cart and then slowly sinking into the sea of supermarket indifference as he opened the front door taking those first steps once more to the words "...for whom the gods wish to destroy they first send them shopping through all this then..."


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repost from elsewhere, a british "last post" thread(a troll that keeps heckling with " ok, you win, you can stop now")

the goblin accepted xxxxx's defeat magnanimously again , saying "...well now, I feel that we should discuss terms of surrender here, first off you brits must drive on the right side of the road, you must stop eating those things hardly deemed food by the rest of humanity, you must also give scotland it's full independence returning it to that pristine nature-reserve for its aboriginals, and now turning to the other matter of European integration, I feel the present day british "litter laws" should be relaxed somewhat allowing people to actually place litter in the bins, it might also be a good idea I fee too, though I am open your input on this matter, if the brits could learn to use a knife and fork, something you might have heard rumors about, where appropriate etiquette lessons could be arranged then, but anyway, I am sure that, over time, you will grow to like our swiss administration in that no doubt we will be able to offer you a far better synchronization between "your home, that labor exchange, the nearest tesco supermarket, your pub, the lightup outside in the rain, reentering the pub, on back to your home again" than you are getting under your present day administration, simply our methodical time and motion studies will show how "precision binge drinking" can be done more effectively, so what say you then, surrender please..."


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