Yes you don't know me at all, so this is my opportunity to say 'hello'. It's also my opportunity to be a brain surgeon, or a nuclear physicist, or a ballet dancer, but the truth is I'm a bus driver. And why wouldn't you believe that; after all who would claim to be a bus driver that wasn't, right? All I have to do then is claim some prosaic occupation and people will believe it, so how about I say I'm also a writer? Yeah, suddenly a questions springs to mind, 'Anything published?' This is it folks, 'live-writing', and what you really want is to read something: But it seems to me that I am some ‘intellect’ that is inhabiting this decaying shell, whereas they say that it is just the decaying shell that is really thinking, fooling itself that it is something other than a quirk of nature: a bunch of organic matter that has become somehow sentient. And so, like Clarke’s HAL, our consciousness gets turned on and turned off in its time, but unlike HAL, who knew where he had come from, we have no answers to our questions. But the New Atheists, they have the answers - they know the precise solution to the questions that have been troubling mankind since the first human ‘woke up’ and began to wonder. All we have ever really wanted to know is the answer to two simple questions, ‘Where do we come from?’ and ‘Where do we go to?’ The single answer is, of course, ‘nowhere’. And if that answer isn’t satisfying to you, that’s because you don’t believe in miracles. Oh yes, life is a miracle by any definition; but you are that miracle and you don’t even know it. You want a Great Spirit, a Great Architect, a God Creator to perform the miracle for you, but you have done it yourself while you were asleep, and you will do it once more when you fall asleep again. To understand these truths all you need to have is faith.
(and with that that goblin, somewhat surprised and delighted, welcomed Crump from another forum, adding "...the nature of hip forum is that you have carte blanche writingwise, where you're a credit to any forum you're on, and where for example you could do your book thread here too as you're onto a winner there since I feel, yes it is simply one of the best threads going on forumland, and/or you can try your hand a livewriting at your own pace then, either way everything is entirely up to you now but the fact that we are together in this means that we pool the readership between us all...", moreover, the fact that one was posting one's works across forumland, as opposed to one sole forum, meant that one could rework each work, adding "...no I love writersbeat, it's just that it has limitations too, and one of its biggest is the fact that one doesn't really get to see how the writer write, no they never seem let the hair down in that way, whereas here hopefully it's Crump doing his own thing in any way he pleases...", to which the goblin as ever offered a keen sense of audience and a subtle feeling of deadline too)
Ah, well you know that just like all other drivers, bus drivers never admit liability - and yet I am going to confess now. Although confessing your sins to a goblin can only happen thanks to the magical world we now inhabit. It began with an idle question, 'What are these other places', I thought, 'other places where that goblin appears from and disappears to?' And so I Googled the goblin and among the orcs and rock bands, the aged vacuum cleaners and the sharks (Oh yes - there are sharks too.) I found this forum, and one or two others as well. Then a thought came over me, that I too could write more and write in more places. And so the bus driver has landed and intends to return, but recognizes the debt he owes to the goblin who, albeit unwittingly, was his pathfinder. [Goblin]
("....no, I guess we are all pathfinders now, as none of us know what writing across forumland for a forum readership really means nor what it entails neither, just we have some vague idea of both its ease and its potential..." replied the goblin who by the by always loved the goblin teasmade, where each time he had bought one second hand it hadn't worked perfectly, plus they were too noisy, plus today it's coffee isn't it, adding "...honestly I don't think any forum would ban you as a livewriter, so as a back up reposting across forums doesn't make much sense I imagine, however, for the two other reasons airing and editing the worth of reposting is clear here...", in fact, it took many reposts for the goblin to get it right to himself)
Ha, ha, . . . I really don't know why I'm laughing, for it comes to something when folk can't tell the difference between a bus driver and a mythical creature. Although I suppose, if you've ever been waiting for my bus, checking your watch and stamping your feet against the cold, you might be forgiven for imagining the entire bus service was mythical - but not just the driver, surely? Well I guess it's just a sign of the the times. Folk these days have no inclination to exchange pleasantries, do they? They bustle past me without giving a second glance; for all they know I could easily be a goblin, or even totally invisible. But there is one way to tell infallibly whether your bus driver is actually a goblin in disguise - and please don't think I'm being critical here, far from it, I'm just highlighting a difference that may help you - real bus drivers are tidier than goblins, and they always finish their sentences.
For we are all lost in a great wreckage surrounded by deep waters, but many, unable or unwilling to swim, are clinging to a rock they call ‘religion’. Others, recognising the rock for what it truly is – merely another piece of flotsam – are saying, “Come away from there; forget faith, just use your reason and you will be able to swim like us.” Some of these have been collecting floating debris and building it into a raft of knowledge known as science; and the raft has grown until it is now quite as big as the ‘false rock’ of religion. Growing numbers, abandoning their faith, have mustered just enough reason to allow them to splash across to the raft of science, and they are now clinging to that quite as desperately as they ever clung to the rock of religion. All of them hoping that it will, in the end, give the answer they seek - the answer to the burning question that everyone is asking, “What the fuck are we doing here anyway?”
Writer, Teju Cole, who was in Nairobi when al Shabaab terrorists took over the Westgate Mall, remembers Kofi Awoonor the Ghanaian poet who was among those killed in the massacre. (New Yorker) [Click-the-pic] And death, when he comes to the door with his own inimitable calling card shall find a homestead Part of Kofi Awoonor's last poem, which can be read in full here. (Wall Street Journal - Speakeasy) Nearly half of American adults read at least one work of literature in 2012, according to a survey by the National Endowment for the Arts. (Publishers Weekly)
Did Woolf's Mrs Dalloway inspire Pynchon's The Crying of Lot 49? Edward Mendelson finds definite parallels between the two and concludes that, "both books point toward the kind of knowledge of the inner life that only poems and novels can convey." (New York Review of Books) [Click-the pic] "Take a huge bowel movement every day." You'd better believe it folks, because that's just one of thirty three unusual 'Tips to Being a Better Writer'. (Thought Catalog)
I would have to be rolling along stoned in order to believe that the two writers in this thread are one and the same. If their styles didn't point to their differences (which they do), one need only take note that Crump is more formal in regard to punctuation and sentence structure. I don't believe I've ever seen fleamailman use a semicolon; Crump has. And then there's the matter of Crump placing a space between each period of his ellipses while fleamailman never has.
"...right again, Crump is coming into his own now, or was his own to begin with..." mentioned the goblin, adding "...he does a wonderful thread about books on writersbeat forum, but I'd better let him explain then as this is his thread...")
"His thread?" asks the little mouse. "Since when has ownership taken over the freedom on on forumland." The little mouse laughs as she couldn't help but jump to this occasion. "But you are right, Flea. Crump has started this one so one could say it is 'his' thread, for us to join in on the fun and games."
("...and that username and this username too too then I s'pose according to you, where it seems there are more than us of you here if you wanna come off the big forum and pick a fight then, but careful now..." chuckles the chameleon flexing his knuckles "...and so welcome to the rest of forumland then crump where from here you can go anywhere now, now that you have walked the walk and freed those shackles and where slings and arrows far worse than these will be harmless to you now too, now that you can be anyone you choose to be then...") Jats crumples his face up, annoyed at the rain coming down that's put the kibosh on his plans for the day "...well old man, I'm afraid it does not..." starts Jats while the missus curls up with her latest e-book at his feet "...for if you forget about all the serial killing stuff it's very indicative of modern day society, don't you think..." as Jats is distracted by a car pulling up outside the little cottage by the canal that is literary vibrating from the noise of the cars stereo as it does a frenzied six point u-turn and not hearing the young male drivers cursing at the sat nav over the boom boom 'dis mutherfucka shot dis motherfucka' cacophony as perhaps in return the driver would not hear Jats walking up the path, reaching into the open window and slipping a needle into his neck then pushing him into the passengers seat and driving the car into the little garage tucked away at the end of the lane for both the car and the driver to leave it in little pieces, bit by bit, over time, muses Jats as the driver pulls away now, free to annoy some one else on his journey who may have less control of their dark passenger one day "...though forumland might be a better comparison I s'pose, where whoever one chooses to be, it's just you in the end..." smiles Jats going back to the other side by kissing the missus gently on the lips now
("....MYAHAHAHAHA..." laughed the goblin welcoming r0llinstoned back here, saying "...nah, each one is persona here in his or her own right, one of the few places across forumland where livewriters congregate...", reminiscent of the nomads who set up nomad villages only to disperse once the those activities were over, smiling "...well you're welcome to post with us, I mean ever thought of writing in your posts where there are more readers across forumland than there are in that bookworld there...")
...I don't think this one can read flea, hang on... "...thank you for the sentiment, but chameleons have thick skins, and I'm too busy reposting their comments elsewhere where we can all laugh at them and their little fixations, for like the chameleon my readership elsewhere are always hungry for a story to tell around the camp-fire then..." replies Jats knowing they have already fallen into the trap of 'tldr' for it to be impossible for him to escalate anything so now Jats can say just what he pleases as they are not listening then "...and no ignoring is for kids and trolls, no I read everything, I can't help it, it's what I was taught to do, very useful is reading..." adds the chameleon turning a bright shade of yellow now
...no every livewriter is unique storch and easily recognisable, while blending in. A repost then... "...the best bit about livewriting is there are no rules, this is all new..." jumps in Jats enthusiastically and literally just back being still covered in sawdust that sprinkles a little with every key stroke while his ears tingle from an afternoon with the chainsaw, yes winter is coming now thinks the chameleon "...you know it's been marvellous here, glorious sunshine with just enough chill to keep cool in working gear, but I digress... is it art though you ask, I dunno, I'm not some bleeding oracle you know, so take what you will, and if you get stuck for something to say just talk about the weather, that's always popular, though I get the feeling you want more somehow..." smiles the chameleon saving this elsewhere now, just in case then
("...btw has anyone seen Crump of late, I'm beginning to fear the worse..." mentioned the goblin aware that if someone inadvertently enters the labyrinth of london transport they might never be seen again)
