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

repost from elsewhere

"...not really..." replied the goblin, continuing "...as I see it, real life is as opposed to ones virtual reality, whereas dailylife is opposed to the part of one that actually sees it for the distraction that it is, simply one could be just as sheeplike in real life as in virtual reality, but being aware of dailylife as external is perhaps the only things that separates one from being a sheep within it..."


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repost from elsewhere

"...indeed, dailylife just judges you by what you are, and reacts to how you behave then, and weren't those categorisations of you formed the moment you were born..." ventured the goblin once more, adding "...whereas here on this forumland one just is, and remains anonymous throughout, regardless of however truthful one might portray oneself, as simply there is no way< you can prove about yourself here..." continuing again "...where at least this much you have pointed out to me in your post now, and since those superficial categorizations don't exist here, you can be who you really are, so perhaps the real quest here is to find out who one is by what one posts...", where a journey to self is how the goblin had often called it even if by now most people actually understood what he meant by arriving at self too


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repost from elsewhere, just sharing

about leaving home then, the goblin could relate here, for he too, had after all passed that point, though many years back it seemed, saying "...ah but one never wants to do it blatantly now, and yet it has to be done still, so think of it in terms of proximity and not words then, yes, adults use white lies where that is the world of grown-ups, just not to dash the aspirations of others all at once, merely to choose one's own path in life here, simply one can't live a lie as in a life for others where one only has one life, so one lies gently and leaves slowly, for aren't white lies are the lesser of two types of lies then, that is, between lying to them and their aspirations towards you, and lying to yourself by caving into those aspirations..."


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repost from elsewhere, just sharing

"...ah now, one mustn't share one's happiness too openly it seems, discretion is the world of adults here, borderline lying then, you see it in the news, on the television, at home, and everywhere else too, well yes, lies are not exactly what people want to hear, true, but at the same time they want the truth even less, so if one can't hide one's happiness from others, simply they will make sure that one won't be happy for long..." mentioned the goblin remembering that people often compared themselves with the happiness of others, that, while outwardly saying "oh I am so happy for you", while inwardly they are reminded of what they don't have, or worse still, reminded what they might have had once before


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repost from elsewhere, a british "last post" thread

"...call me flea, everyone else does..." replied the goblin, continuing "...I have been thinking that, since britain is now suffering from growing unemployment, and that most car related accidents of persons over 65 are caused by their not crossing the road in time, that perhaps it could be made mandatory then, that all old people, on leaving their home that is, must now be accompanied by "a man walking in front of them waving a red flag" thereby warning both passing motorists and pedestrians alike of their oncoming approach here...", at which point and around the goblin mental madness the bistro just ticked away once more, with the goblin seated between a bunch of merrymakers singing "happy birthday" and the usual mum's brigade are complete with their inquisitive little ones that is, who, desperate to have an adventure, rampage away until some eventual accident invariably claims one of them to tears and hugs, "...well, occupational dramatic hazards do abound even in bistros I suppose..." mentioned the goblin at it, quite inconspicuous now or playing dead where possible, adding "...yet I don't want silence and normality or else I wouldn't write about my observations here...", moreover, once the goblin on the internet he was far from normal and silent, no, in fact anyone walking in front of him with a red flag had better be quick footed indeed, for goblins were not to be trusted


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repost from elsewhere

the goblin had wanted to reply sooner though he hadn't had the moment of depth needed to do so, saying "...how odd this livewriting is, where it comes to me when I slow down where it escapes me whenever I run after it, and where I'm surrounded by things I don't notice till I slow down like this...", while outside, the evening's light had long faded away replaced by a sense of cold silent blackness broken only by the odd heated voice of some juveniles who had gathered in the park below, "...drugs, no, wrong age-group there, too young but..., ..." voiced the goblin to himself, noting the sudden flash of a cellphone amongst them, and the red of a lit cigarette too, then continuing "...they all wear the same clothes yet the girls are easy to pick out, if only because their extremities are thin compared with the center of their bodies, whereas boys seem more uniform in shape...", whereupon the goblin just closed the curtains to the view knowing that, dark as it was, the night was still young, and that other writings awaited, where much later still the gypsies would finally replace the adolescents homing in to their benches to sleep, whereas first-light belonged to those foraging crows once more, continuing"...in fact, I rarely notice any of this by now if only because it didn't touch my dailylife directly, simply, they're the nearest thing to wildlife that this city has to offer..."


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repost from elsewhere, anti G8 riots

the goblin was thinking that most people were more interested in the dual between iran and america, "...ah but the circus had come to town..." mentioned the goblin who had walked down the shop fronts of geneva where these riots had taken place, and where only the shops and banks catering for the rich had bullet holes to show for it, and yet, in the hight of all this, the goblin remembered the manager of starbucks calmly pulling out the remaining bits of glass from the window frame, while behind him the costumers continued queuing up for their coffees, and now, two days later, little remains to tell anyone that any of this had happened, for gone were the contenders now, neither those armor clad policemen with their CS gas and rubber bullets, nor those masked rioters with paint guns, stone throwing types, so geneva had just returned to what it was before once more "...well duals do happen and then the circus moves on but that's just geneva for you..." ventured the goblin in passing too


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...some lovely pictures there flea, you thief... a repost then...

"...well at the very least one day the boys will save a lot of money on therapy where they can see their life through my eyes then, other than looking through those dusty albums all mums have where everyone is smiling and in their Sunday bests along with the nude ones taken as a baby that they keep for embarrassing you in front of future partners then..." replies Jats wondering if he is to hear on the news next that ninety per cent of mums in the UK have been arrested now for having child porn with the latest paedophilia hysteria going on "...where you will be remembered by your pictures of course, one of which I will steal for this post which reminds me of me as a boy, the image from one of those faded black and white photographs from my mothers album leaping out at me now, and another post to add to the collection that has grown so prolificly now, easily, one by one, while some look over their shoulders at what might have been..."

 

"Wonderful posts flea!" exclaimed Dejavu, having missed nothing of this thread, nor the other livewriting threads. The idea of his powerlessness possessed him, but only in part he knew, thinking of the arrogant white hairs that had begun to appear along the sides of his dark crown. Infiltrators! Ever since he'd nearly died two years ago. It was not as though he was now too ardent in reconciling the dailylife with reality as he wanted it. He would trust to what there remained of his patience, resolving to let his will exist in his thought alone if it had to. There was no duel with himself, since honour was a joke where life alone was at stake.

 

("...it goes from strength to strength for all of us then..." went the goblin just happy for the company each time, adding "...no there's something wrong with the weather, for example it's not cold in chamonix here, it's too cold in america though, and britain sounds like it's underwater even...", the goblin's mind rushed to historic events thinking how fortunate he had been for living in a stable period till today, sighing "...the volcanoes have slept soundly, I'll raise my coffee cup and drink to us in a year from now if they have slept on still...")

repost from elsewhere, a native american "last post" thread

"...to feel at ease in nature, I suppose one must get used to being in nature then..." said the goblin adding "...well, it's the same for writing I guess, for if you want writing to evolve you, then you must write often without expectation...", the goblin laughed a bit, then continued "...oh no, it won't change your life, it won't pay your bills, nor give you a perfect parter, nor any other of those physical rewards at all, yet over time it empowers both your imagination and your reasoning here...", simply the goblin was very selfish where it might look otherwise, adding "...in the end, what will you have left other than this magic then, so keep your fame and fortune now, me I just want to perfect this ability within me while I still can..."


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"It's true flea, our whole past has been stable up until this present, and will ever remain so, rest its soul." laughed Dejavu. "So perhaps we'd best raise our cups in advance, in order to advance, as disorderly a thing as that sounds. Nothing compulsory mind you, the thresholds want self-definition, the individual never thriving via enforcement." Was Dejavu being deliberately obscure? "The great unbanning, world, grasp that one! Do you dare?!"

 

("...almost one could choose between bad endings here, such as birthdefects due to war zones or leaking nuclear reactors, or financial collapse, or increasing wild weather patterns, etc.., just that today it seems like all of them are coming together at once..." mentioned the goblin who wanted things as they are to be as they were still, then sighing "...it's like they're not addressing these matters openly so as not to worry us, making us worry all the more for their silence here...")

 

repost from elsewhere, a native american "last post" thread

the goblin too, was a bad speller of sorts, so he had to repost often across forumland just to correct away those bugs from whatever he wrote, saying "...anyway, what matters is not what the others read here, no, only what one wants to say to oneself by it, why, because in years from now none of this will be remembered, yes all will be gone, and yet one will have mastered this medium in one's own way, that's both the goal and the reward of posting here..", somehow the image of the native american, in that film starring johny depp dead man, sprang to mind here, the parallel of it then, "...incredible wasn't he, somehow one could see what the author was getting at by that character then, that a powerful intellect, indebted to literature and poetry, feeling that fate had offered him this role of sending off to the next world a white man who happens to be called william blake none other than his favorite poet, yes it's an action of no base logic, nor self interest, nor personal gain, just something seeming correct to the spirit of that native american there..."


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repost from elsewhere, the goblin issuing a public health warning

"...definitely your best post to date xxxxx, profound, meaningful, and imaginative too..." replied the goblin, reflecting "...yes it's amazing how posting can just seem like something that one lights up and then smokes, ah yes, one has to be careful of that little hidden addiction there for it often starts with a few unsuspecting experimental puffs on one's pen so to speak, right on until it's too late to do otherwise, where one just feels a dire need to do yet another post now, and where over the years this slow decline in one's mental health becomes just all too evident to those around one now..."


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repost from elsewhere, just sharing again

the goblin was having a problem with "me" as he saw them, perhaps the goblin was looking at the old fart now, but, at least, the goblin was still free, and would never turn himself to stone like the old fart writing this had done, saying "... surely then, it's better to remain unknown as this goblin here, than "all set in stone" as some known author, or that known person in dailylife...", simply their minds mused over the image of someone saying "see that person over there, well he's actually that notorious goblin on the internet", and then noting the observer's sudden and apparent disappointment at it all, but the goblin would laughed at it, saying "...serves you right old man, because you've seen madusa's face in your dailylife of course, ah but not me, no I'm alive and free for as long as you let it..."


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repost from elsewhere, just sharing,

"...no no no, first you just need to be yourself with him without makeup, and then if he shows interest, amaze and reward him by wearing makeup at times, otherwise you force yourself into a corner here, and you will be jealous of something as unimportant as those looks that most men don't really care about anyway..." mentioned the goblin looking out over the frozen rooftops of the cold city of geneva now, "...ah my beloved city of vanity..." he joked at it too, but either way then, he still had to go out into this cold now, no different from those hunter gatherers of old he imagined, the same old palaver in this same old dailylife then, adding "...if men only cared about beauty then by now all women would be beautiful where so few are, no, men want a woman that they feel comfortable with but that will be our well guarded secret here..."


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repost from elsewhere

day whatever, and the goblin is in his bistro again waiting for something worth writing to approach him, meanwhile the goblin would just stare into space over his coffee, till finally he would give up saying "...no, what matters to me was not what I write at all, what should matters to me is that I was proving to myself that I had nothing worth writing to write...", a truth, that felt like a lie all the same, for he could never quite reason away their disappointment at the empty result


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repost from elsewhere

the goblin had often noted, that the more one feeds the slot the more that slot seems to want those posts again, saying "...and after that, that slot just follows one around too, just there whenever some idea for a post hits one that is...", but the goblin also understood that all this was probably something which most people would simply dismiss as some writer's distraction now, and understandably not for them then, "...their choice I suppose, but for me it's still something worth cultivating none the less, if only because there is so much within one that never gets out, and so much outside of one that is just borrowed or aging..." ventured the goblin who had dubbed all this a shared life, repeating, "...well, doesn't the muse's pact go honesty, a shared life, and a thick skin, just your soul in ink upon the dotted line then..."


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repost from elsewhere, just sharing

"...ah now, you should always be careful about an introduction of some new notes somewhere..." said the goblin thinking about north korea's new notes at this point, continuing "...well if it is just knocking off two zeros off the number, for example, if 100 won now becomes 1 won, then it is good in practice..." , in fact, many countries had done exactly this to no ill effect here, "...ah, but when an upper limit to which one can then covert ones old money into those new notes is added on top of it, in this case something working out at the equivalent of 750 dollars per person, then it is a clear case of the government impoverishing it own citizens by wiping out their savings...", and somehow the goblin feared the three other options open to any country in crisis, "asset freeze", "forced loans" and "confiscation", adding "...and yet most people just want this comfortable status quo to continue here, don't they, and no, the end of the world is not nigh now, but there has to be a correction at some point soon, for the world is swimming in debt as we speak, though who, one wonders, would spoil the party by pointing this out openly here, well certainly not ourdearmedia now..."


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repost from elsewhere, a native american "last post" thread, upon the film "dead man" staring johny depp

"...yes, in the film, that native american in brought up by whites, and although he, as an actor, is over shadowed by johny depp as the dying white man, the story is really about someone being moved by something alien both to oneself and one's culture now, it is mirrored in its way by "dance with the wolves" where it is the white man who is in a dilemma of crossing cultures again, but perhaps the parallel ends here then..." mentioned the goblin who also noticed how often the native american, being thought of as more spiritual than the white man, was portrayed as an angel of death, as in such films like "one flew over the cuckoo's nest", and in "deadman" here


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