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

reposted from elsewhere, just sharing

"...so now my feline friend, would you have me drink some non poisonous coffee instead, so that I would live a little longer by it..." asked the goblin, breaking off for a moment to ask the girl at the counter for yet another cup, then adding "...ah, but the point of this life is not its longevity, no, the point of life, if there has be one that is, is to grow ever more aware of it...", while outside the bistro, the winter's rain fell intermittently throughout the goblin's day off, "...well perhaps not then, no perhaps today we can delve into some inner awareness instead...", yet the rain was not amused by the goblin's comment, nor perturbed by the goblin's opinion on this matter either, it just ignored the goblin entirely and just rained down as it must


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repost from elsewhere, just sharing

"...well yes, I suppose that's marginally better than that television with the sofa and a six pack now..." replied the goblin as if knowing that this thread will be very much longer when it ends, adding "...besides, you humans are too curious for your own good, and then there's your innate greed as well, also that underlying wish for your self expression too, exhibitionism even, so no, the real question is who can resist for long something like this, something as tempting as the chance to shine upon forumland in a way that perhaps one doesn't shine in one's dailylife, prehaps to know who you also are by it..."


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repost from elsewhere, an american "last post" thread

"...ah no, never "another me" then, for I'm the only constant throughout, everything else passes again and again perhaps, yet one only pass once..." mentioned the goblin in passing too


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repost from elsewhere, the "Christmas tree" thread

"...well, each year up goes the same old artificial tree again..." mentioned the goblin in passing, continuing "...where I suppose it just marks the passing of the season for me now, where once long ago it had been a potent symbol of some wondrous expectation within me, no not that I mind at this point my seeing through the workings of the trick where gifts miraculously appear at its base, and yet, somewhere inside of me still, ever this spell of it excitement remains, as if in looking at this tree once more, all those childhood and youthful ghosts of christmases past were simply summoned back once more by this one artificial tree here..."


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repost from elsewhere

"...funny how in writing that other post about the artificial christmas tree that I put up each year, those bittersweet memories of past christmases had just crossed my mind, of people gone, of houses lost, and of other cherished memories quite beyond me now..." mentioned the goblin reminiscing for a moment then continuing "...and I remember too, my grandmother relating how she hated dreams because the moment she woke up she was blind again, well it's something like that I suppose, this growing old is about being brave isn't it, yet maybe I'm wrong then, and just occasionally with christmas it might be good to "look back" grateful to be able to "look on" today for who knows how often we will be able to "look forward to" tomorrow...", and one day the goblin too would just join his ghosts then, yes he knew that he belonged to them eventually, smiling "...so merry christmas then, where a merry christmas is good and proper, agreed, yet all that doesn't make it any easier to accept one's growing older..."


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repost from elsewhere

"...interesting post..." remarked the goblin who knew too, that the older he became the more that act's outcome grew uncertain, while his inner stirred emotions too, became increasingly complicated by those very compromises that you mention there, "...so, for me at least, this internet has changed everything, in that, if I agree understanding that she is only doing it to secure the relationship as you put it, then this alternative, of relating anonymously upon forumland just seems both more prudent and more honest towards myself then...", probably explaining why the goblin preferred an inconsequential meeting of minds on forumland than all that deception and those responsibilities of dailylife relationships, where for his other nagging need, there were always those girly sites where urge once quenched he could then return to his writing again, saying "...my emotions do not get the better of me, yes but this compromise too, is hardly something that I'm proud of either..."


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repost from elsewhere, someone who had posted a music stream by satie

the goblin loved that piece by satie, saying "...quite haunting isn't it...", while softly outside the quiet night too slowly reminded the goblin that he should have been asleep by now if not before, and yet, in reposting his posts here, he had got caught up in their editing again, where once more those little typos clearly had all the hallmark of that whyly dislexsick fairy upon them, and where not her actually, the likes of ambiguity, contradiction and vagueness vied for the goblin's attention here, "...ah yes, I'm quite mad..." said the goblin about it, continuing "...indeed, but not just any old madness will do for me it seems, no each studied madness has to retain a conveyed continuity throughout for it is to be credible to its reader, for like hypnosis, it's all suggestive here and only works through one's imagination upon a willing subject...", the goblin knew there was more, but the thieving clock and the sandman were quite adamant in their calling out "off to bed with you goblin, for tomorrow you'll regret how you hadn't slept sooner", yet the goblin had long realized that there was always a regret wherever choice is concerned, or else there wouldn't be a choice that is, simply he continued editing on regardless of the late passing hour, just it seemed the lesser of two regrets

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N8_USgxfkRU"]Gnossienne for piano No. 1, Lent (Slowly) - Erik Satie - YouTube


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repost from elsewhere, reply to a cat persona about conspiracy theories

"...well cat you could be right there, and yet, much like as under scotish law with its three verdicts of innocent or guilty or not proven, I often find myself giving up with that excuse verdict of "not proven" towards ourdearmedia there, because anything not directly in the course of my dailylife is hard to prove anyway, and even in my dailylife too, those causes and their consequences then, often become too difficult to fathom as one goes into it, thus I accept things as both "the truth" and as "just fact" too, why, probably because I know no other truth nor have any other facts, right until they don't reconcile one another, where the resulting gap between given truth and noted facts causes that realm of conjecture there and all those conspiracy theories with it..." mentioned the goblin here, but the moneygod was just calling him away to its bidding again, in fact, dailylife differed from ourdearmedia in that it needed no explanation beyond the simple truth that the facts of his reality would just be such regardless of any verdict he passed upon it


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repost from elsewhere, the lupusbot's forum, the last post thread

"...yes you did win too, but do not win for my sake, come whenever, post whatever, as I really wouldn't have it any other way now..." replied the goblin, adding "...you see, this thread is only meant for real winners, and what I mean by "winning" is just not giving up, nor or giving in, to one's dailylife here...", so the goblin knew that if he posted to please xxxxx, it would be so fake that he would just fail, no, he too was on his journey to self here, saying "...elsewhere I am either a famous livewriter or just a vial troll depending on who reads me, yet here I am just your friend, so win through this and I will be here when you post now, and here when you don't even..."


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repost from elsewhere, an american "last post" thread

"..still making me think xxxxx..." said the goblin loving it, adding "...but what if there were a slippery slope here, where it simply starts off as something innocent and acceptable enough and then descends as something more sinister...", of course the goblin was now thinking about the swiss in their recent "no" vote, thus banning minarets from being built in switzerland, "...for example, an analogy then, what if some forum were to first throw out all the trolls, then to move to those who use bad language, from there to those who posted nudity in any form, on to the those whose opinion are too radical, etc., until only the admin and his clones remained, in short what a "narrow minded" forum it would then become in the end, albeit one that might well have reached those aims though a consensus or by democratic means even at in this case...", simply the goblin was thinking back now, to how correct and enticing same type nazi message must have sounded to mr average during the pre war depression years who, when faced with the twin burdens of a hyper inflation on the one hand, and political impotence on the other, wanted something done, so the goblin merely concluded "...lets pray then that this minaret vote here was just a "one off" then, or conversely let's worry about who might be next then on their list now..."


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repost from else, a "last post" thread where a nude picture had been posted

the goblin liked the picture, adding "...actually, more what I like about the picture is the fact that one was allowed post it...", his mind was now thinking upon those other forums where, being family sites per say, one was not allowed to post pictures like that at all, adding "...same problem for the media in general then, it's not that I particularly like nudity violence or bad language in the media, it's just the moment I know that there is none, I know too, that storyline is compromised and censored by its absence, for what I really like is not knowing the confines of the content, nor the outcome neither, of whatever it is I am actually viewing..." and yet the goblin also hated it when something was just there to shock or titillate one, something as there to pull in the punters, adding "...no, for me it has to be exactly what the work needs, or else it doesn't work for me, where certainly it's not an easy balance then to get right, and where I tend to veer on the side of modesty until it is right not to..." but by now everyone knew that goblins were not to be trusted but then again whoever wanted to be trusted for what they wrote, the goblin didn't want to be trusted now


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repost from elsewhere, just sharing

the goblin sits in the bistro again, readying his brain for "take off" that is, "...ah, just a little more imagination and I will be out of here in my own world once more...", though meanwhile he just looks at the group of middle aged men chatting and drinking away next to him, dismissing them as somewhat old school, "...ah now, there but for the grace of forumland goes me then..." he types into the slot observing them still, while the white wine remains ever their preferred medium of escape it seems, adding "...their choice I know, and perhaps it's the same escape we all seek too, our escape from dailylife, though tomorrow they'll just be back here once more, while I'll be editing this portrayal of them I guess, this is, of their drowning in their drinks only to be flung back onto some shore of sobriety afterwards in some senseless repetition, at the same altar again, that same ritual, with exactly the same result too...", not that this shore of sobriety was very forgiving for that matter, for what did it ever offer one instead now "...and besides, what does this life owe anyone anyway..."asked the goblin once more as he escaped away onto forumland in his turn


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repost from elsewhere, someone who, after ten year, had finally bought that jukebox she wanted

the goblin could relate to xxxxx's post now, for in his past too, there was a simple seaside fryup place with a jukebox in the corner, where the goblin would place his few coins to the hear "sitting at the dock of the bay" once more, the only song he seemed to like amongst the choice he remembered, while outside the place, that blustery day would simply pass in its uncomplicated course, "...I think at that age I had little concept of either the passing of time, or the value of money, I, much like that blustery day then, was just there without any consequence it seemed...", afterwards, the goblin would stroll back between that old defiant seawall and unsettled turbulent beach, over sea grasses and sand dunes, cross heaps of pebbles that as if chorused his quick steps of those last childhood days with a springy crunch each time, somehow the goblin was racing the approach of evening time in a promise to be home before nightfall he recalled, for the word "late" in those days only had one meaning, yet today it's only its other meaning that comes to the fore whenever the goblin thinks back upon it


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("...yes 30.000hits then, where my anonymity should bar me from actually caring do I do, so thanks for reading my posts if you have now..." went the goblin who confessed that he did this solely out selfishness, smiling "...for what lands on the page is there because of what passed through my mind while writing, where I wonder if I had not tried to write it down whether I would have had these thoughts now, so join me then, why not have your own thoughts by creating your your own posts here too...")

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

"...me, I am trying to have "thoughts a plenty" but failing that I'll try to think of something I suppose, but if nothing works, I'll just go through my day on autopilot again..." confessed the goblin, adding "...anyway, whoever said life is for the living was sold on mere experience of it in my view, for surely this life is also what one makes of it out of one's experiences then, after all, what's the point of having any experience, good or bad, if it's just forgotten afterwards...", where one of the goblin's ghosts just smiled back now, remarking sarcastically "...ah, but you do know that none of your conjectures will ever change me now goblin, any more than it could change what happened at the time either, so you're welcome to spar with me my friend, only that you're lashing out at a shadow that you can't actually touch goblin...", the goblin, looking back, replied"...agreed, but if all this turns into you ghosts as you say, then how else can one know which ghosts one is beckoning now, other than by figuring out which ones that one has met..."


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repost from elsewhere

the goblin thought he was thinking now, saying "...the trouble is that I could equally be "not thinking much" and my life would still pass just the same...", though the goblin's dream last night had been of a naughty boy of about 6 or 7 years old, who had, as if in a dare then, entered his parent's house, and walked up to the goblin and said "hello" and then retreated being followed out into the garden where unfriendly neighbors were angry for causing such the commotion amongst them, or ill will, or whatever then, "...well that's just what you get for suppressing thoughts I suppose..." mused the goblin to himself thinking about it now, continuing "...ah yes, but it does seem pretty obvious as to who that little child in my dream really is though, and yes, he's played that same prank on me a number of times now, and sometimes, like in this case when it's being "dad's time" now, I just know he's going to play the same prank again, while at other times he just suddenly appears out of nowhere and takes someone away with him, oh I guess I should just accept him and his prank too, but he often gets the better of my emotions whenever I haven't seen his coming, for simply he comes for each of us in the end..."


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repost from elsewhere, hecklers again

the goblin thanked the humans again for their ungracious comments, saying "...evidently you go in for negativity, or why else would you all be gathered upon the very thread you claim to dislike so, but let's be honest here, simply your replies engage me now, where all this would have ended long ago had you stopped posting back, but you're up against a livewriter with more bans than you have...", the goblin paused for a second, then continued "...besides, I'm anonymous where my posts are like dead by the time I've hit the post button, but what of it, you've having a ball heckling so I am generous too, knowing that if I been remotely like what you wanted me to be then none of you would be here, why, because readers ruin the writer in their expectations so the author soon learns never to meet them beyond half way..."


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

the goblin was casting spells with his pen, saying "...well it only has to please one person, but even that won't happen if I'm too timid about it...", while outside the bistro though, the snow fell upon little puffs of smoke below rising out from the huddled mass of a few remaining smokers who drank their coffees at the tables provided for them as if in some defiance to that anti-smoking rule within the bistro now, and also in defiance too, against that continuous snowfall it seemed, in fact the goblin admired their courage even, saying "...well, if they ever wanted to look cool by smoking, guess they've succeeded all too well at this point..."


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repost from elsewhere, after reading something interesting

"...great posts, they're better on the second read though, as one gets used to your writing-style here, which you would think would be somewhat uniform between writers but where no, in fact, most people have little traits that confuse the reader at first, mine are both part of my guise as a goblin, something which I use to hide myself behind by, or more often simply part of my inattention, so the start of any endeavour is often simply introducing the reader to one's writing style, which after a while they just get so used to reading one's whatever that they don't even notice the text for the image it conjures up within them..." mentioned the goblin thinking of those classic novels and how difficult they all were to read at first, adding "...anyway don't worry about it, as what you write really only has to please one person here, as all this is simply you to yourself, doing it for the you that you become by doing it, no, most people don't even see the true point of reflecting in posts then, instead they simply trust everything to their fading memories of it until those memories fade, ah but not us writers now, no, we churn everything over and over with our pens until we are changed by it, well I know I've changed by it, perhaps even becoming two mes here as someone living in some shared life as if I were conversing back with my life through my pen in this sharing, simply a shared life results doesn't it humans..."


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repost from elsewhere

"...so the passion just comes to its climax each time, and then I'm stuck back in my reality once more..." ventured the goblin to the muse over the coffee table in his usual bistro now done up in christmas style now, continuing "...so I am no longer sure what really gives me the most pleasure here, oh yes, I have those needs, like everyone else has, which can be relieved by indulging myself, yet they only seem to return me back to myself afterwards and always at a price too...", somehow to the goblin it was the same for drink, as it was for food, and for those computer games too, in fact for whatever then just everything returned one, but the muse just looked back at the goblin till, after a while, she opened up her empty hands to him saying "...well now, that does rather betray your age here goblin, I mean, if you really do understand at this point that "everything returns you to yourself afterwards", then simply you've swapped your previous delusions for your present day disillusions, which admittedly is progress all the same...", and, although the goblin could follow her logic clearly, he could never quite tell if she wasn't actually laughing at him too


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"I love it!" laughed Dejavu like a naughty boy, who, possibly for his own good, wasn't quite naughty enough to rob anyone of themselves beyond the prank of appearing to. "We are free to our thoughts we writers, and we probably don't realize it well enough on the whole." Dejavu did not exactly want an experience to remember, but one that didn't have to end. His logic in such a matter was naturally in question, but that was as it should be since most thinking, statistically speaking, was against him. Fleas posts were as fine as ever, which made him certain the goblin had no real need of them to be able to have and more importantly love his own thoughts. "The muse is laughing at us Flea! Her beauty permits it, is formed by it as is anything of hers. Mockery belongs to heaven as the stars to their shine! You must know this! All her lovers bear the burden of what must prove an indignity to some and the delight of others. All must ask who she belongs to, and all who find it is she herself shall be absolved of whatever it is that hampers their passion in her desire to be possessed." The muse, hearing this, and who, in appearing to everyone, appeared differently, demurely defied Dejavus demarcations of her demeanour, as indeed no-one else could, in a defining silence.

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