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

Dejavu looked at the goblin, not askance, but a laughing look, as though to say, if you're really dying for something, then the best thing might be to spit it out. There were countless causes for death, having no cause. Dejavu was well aware of how the life well lived would want its return, but only if it ceased to be well lived! He laughed aloud, looking now at thedope, who was talking about his body as though he were beyond it. Is the eternal return stayed so long as we want to stay? Does it matter? Dejavu had forgotten about theory in his good humour. The kid was on his own. He had forgotten that there would always be those who said he didn't play well with others. But not altogether. He remembered. He remembered especially that those who said so did not happen to play as well ( with or without others ) as himself. Naturally we're all alike in caring for what we care for, but Dejavu was not about to forget that what we cared for more than made up for what, in all founding fathers of equality, was a monotony of self-interest. Dejavu was on the ball, and he didn't care to be subsumed by it just because as grounds keepers we weren't gardener enough to see further than a need for fertilizer. His past owed him nothing, nor he it, and he didn't see the need to revisit it to tell it so. He did not require a past in contrast. "Never so near or dear to our goal than when we are farthest from it"?! If Dejavu could have died laughing, he would have.

 

What are you snickering about Dejavu? Many bright ideas invite enthusiasm early and loose vigor quickly. Like the too early smile of a newborn infant that we attribute to the occasional peptic bubble. Ever notice how we try to walk before we can? I like the cancan, mused thedope.

Dejavu sometimes thought thedope less than reverently modest concerning his body. Fact is he spoke from the position not beyond, but from the position of being ridden hard. He raised a family on the back of his physical industry and now things don't work so smoothly as once was. He still works himself into a sweat every day.

 

The goblin, is a tiny mischievous imp poster as well.

 

If everything is for the best, said Dejavu, the best had better hurry up judging by the general trend to mortality. He tried on his best snicker. It was something of a failure. Not to worry, he laughed, thinking of thedopes belief in disembodied consciousness. Things work as smoothly as they ever did, but here's the thing, they would go on working without us, errant upstarts that they are. You who say laughter is a yes and a no in the same place should know this...but Dejavu left off his address to thedope here, because his laughter was at no-ones expense. Dejavu was no usurer of mirth.

 

("...the reads are good, keep them coming..." went the goblin)

repost from elsewhere

"...well now, that does rather beg the question of "how can one judge something which one claims not to actually read", surely, without reading something, one cannot judge whether it is meaningless or apart from the context as you claim..." replied the goblin


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repost from elsewhere

"...it's always best to choose those topics which you yourself like, so if you like controversial threads, yes by all means start them, however if it is something that you have no interest in, then you'll still be obliged to continue replying to anyone who replies back on the one hand, while others might equally be replying out of kindness on the other, so that simply through everyone's well meant dishonesty the thread would sink into farce..." mentioned the goblin who was always selfishly honest here, reading everything yes, but anything that didn't interest him he never posted to, nor started a thread about, adding "...just "what in one's life is worth starting a thread about" and "what in one's life is worth posting" are the two clear benchmarks of honestly that I go upon..."


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repost from elsewhere, the "afterlife" thread

"...simply, you and I are anonymous, the number of posts, the hit rate, and all the other paraphernalia which goes up to create any member on a site actually means nothing because nothing can be proved here, nothing except the fact that I am writing this and you are reading it..." said the goblin whose goal remained to know himself from what he posted, adding "...you can't know the future, there is no way to know it because it is not here yet, but perhaps instead one can know oneself, why, because oneself is here all the time..."


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The raging storm warrior entered, took a look around, and said, "It appears you never met that goal."

 

("...ah, but I never said which christmas I believe MYAHAHAHA..." went the goblin smiling "...perhaps it was a trick to stop my being banned straight off, taken from anecdote of the condemned man who promised that he could get the king's horse to talk in five years, only that in five years the king might die or he himself might die or that horse might in fact talk, so five years is a long time and worth making any promise for...", whereupon the goblin wagered that this thread would make 20,000hit by christmas again, smiling "...do you know how many posts I have in total...")

repost from elsewhere

the goblin had being fighting trolls again, saying "...trolls and hecklers are great fun if one has doesn't get sidetracked by them, creative putdowns and retorts are rewarding as long as one is also doing "content" for oneself that is, otherwise they win by default, and yet, if one keeps in mind what it is one is exactly that one is trying to create and get out of one's posting they then lose if only because one hasn't been distracted nor stopped by them, simply your agenda wins through, not theirs.."


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Storch could not figure out why thedope would place a comma after the word "goblin." He knew that some humans imagined pauses where there weren't any, but he also understood that the comma may have been placed there because thedope believes that all others require time to assimiliate the first few words of his sentence before moving on the the rest of his . . . comment. Such was his faith in his fellow man/woman. It was apparent that, had thedope failed at composting, he would have had a promising career as a judge of imposters, for the mirror had taught him well.

Thedope was a serious con-troller. He was other things, too--things that he was more proud of, though he would maybe tell you that pride was not his bag, and that something else was.

 

While I was in a coma punctuated by the broadest net of apprehension I could muster in said coma, I imagined the generic, goblin.

I wonder still if the comma after all, a decapostrophe having been seen with it's head near Storch 's upper case waxed on thedope.

 

You've mistakenly replaced an N with an X.

 

thedope preferred or imagined he did, to wax on poetically as opposed to wane toward the oblivion of Negation.

 

(the goblin loved using the comma for pauses, he knew that there was no hard and fast rule, simply it helped the readers misunderstand less of that which he probably misunderstood already, which might well be not nearly as much as he would eventually, adding "...it's a bit like an accent, after awhile the reader just gets so used to it that they hardly notice, whereas anyone coming across one of my posts for the first time struggles a bit but not for long...")

skip if too long for you

repost from elsewhere

the long departing bus homewards now, the goblin just lets the text type itself again between his mind and his laptop, as a wave of slowly typed words are, written, wiped, rewritten again in some slow repetition until a residue of what the goblin really wants to relate here remains for all to see, that is, while the music is Ravel's piano concerto mov 2, a deceptive piece that starts off normally enough only to slowly break into something deeper, deathlike even, and certainly appropriate to the view of those stepping stone like silent still gathering rainclouds that the goblin has fixed his view on now as all below seems to shoot by out of goblin's focus and consideration, and somehow the scene seems set, "...slot, perhaps I shouldn't have asked dad, no choice there I felt, I mean how long now until and who inherits, etc that is...", "...goblin, if it falls on you to clear up things afterwards, you have that right and should know everything...", the clouds thicken in their gathering darkness, everything else continues its ignored whizzing course, but the music has changed at this point from the normal piano to the orchestra, something bigger is afoot, something is taking over the piano then "...it's going to rain Slot, it will be for real this time, quite a show don't you think...", "...goblin, it's so easy to be cheap here, you're not cheap I hope, you have to live with yourself after he's gone, all that you did and gave to date would be cheap if you fail him now then, the end will crown it goblin, think about it goblin, you're lucky to even know in advance, you can prove yourself here...", the piano breaks into unrelated high notes, it's erratic now as if drowning, certainly wrong, the piece is breaking up or into something else then as the rain breaks too, and still the scenery, ever out of focus, whizzes by under the encroaching storm that had to pass overhead, the piano tinkers into a deadly silence

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iErAAnR0Pyw&feature=related"]Ravel, Piano Concerto in G - Mov II Adagio assai (Martha Argerich, 1990) - YouTube



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repost from elsewhere

the gnome had a valid point the goblin felt, agreeing that the world of adults was one of accepted lies and flattery then, saying "...when one actually knows the truth of it, often one doesn't want to rock to boat by pointing the lie out then, well there is that I suppose, yes, but also one doesn't want to betray one's understanding here, by giving that explanation so to speak...", and yes, the goblin too, had played dumb often enough, adding "...you see, knowledge in itself is nothing but mere facts, but actually understanding the consequence of that knowledge is the source of one's authority to reveal or hide it, and it's this authority alone, which lets you both see the failings in others then, and react accordingly with white lies perhaps..."


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Dejavu was on the ball still, but not staying still. How well everyone plays with others he thought, looking at thedope, who had brought the sweat of his fatherhood to the fore in order to, well, what? Play well, supposed Dejavu. Perhaps he was attempting to mitigate his own impersonation, of loosing ( as thedope might have put it ) the sense to himself in which he was his own imposter. Now Dejavu was not being snide, he was genuine in appreciation for thedopes playing with the third person, and everyone elses too. Dejavu had the feeling though that thedope felt himself above play, that his 'I am' wanted more than the can-can, that it wanted the monumental. Leave the statuesque to the ladies, who always seem to manage it with a better humour, said Dejavu with a flash in his eye. He looked at storch who, like Dejavu, wanted more than the straightening out of others. He then looked at the new entrant, Maelstrom, who perhaps didn't know what he was getting into here, or was even trying not to know by getting into it. Lastly he looked at the goblin. This looking of his was a great thing. In many ways it was as great as his love. He loved this goblin for being aware of his failings. Dejavu was sometimes a black panther, leaping headlong from ambiguity into his own, when he wasn't the semblance of shadow, stalking himself through others expression.

 

Thedope considered it on the verge of sexist to suggest the ladies performed the cancan with better humor than, frogs? He noticed Dejavu seemed to be still trying to decipher why he seemed to like thedope around considering he was such a dull boy after all.

 

Dejavu watched thedope spread himself thin in distributing his eggs in his own particular basket-case. Could he let this go on? Where in forum-land did thedope want to be? Dejavu had been deciding to do things, but their execution was ongoing, and while he enjoyed gently rocking the boat he couldn't deny he had delicious ideas about capsizing the flotation device altogether. Flight learnt by flying had a feel to it that had him practically flapping. Of course it may be taken on the verge, said Dejavu to thedope, but you must forget your life down by the lily if you want to propel yourself from it. Dejavu may have been dull, but he was bright at times too, and in certain things was able to hold by his own shine. With softer pads now, he approached his goal, though his soul still rung out at every step. He looked back, thedope was still there, awaiting a reply no doubt. It's like this, went Dejavu, in his thickest goblinese, that when we enjoy oneanothers company, we keep doing so, by hook or by crook so to speak. It's that what we truly love then is eachothers awareness of their winnings, no false modesty amongst friends, he added, finding it a super laugh that thedope thought the winning was in equal distribution of winnings. We don't take on anothers expression, ever, said Dejavu coldly. We love it or leave it, we find our own by it, or lose our own to it, no wax for wax, and no journey to the end of the wane. At this, Dejavu suddenly disappeared, his little green online light went off, leaving room for the next ripply.

 

It was thedope that was dull owing to his being potty trained at gunpoint, he supposed. He wasn't sure how to spread himself so he thought to remain collected but to do that he needed to give his collection away so that he could tell he had it. No being saved for this boy, life not worth much without the spending of it.

 

repost from elsewhere

the goblin just smiled, saying "...actually, the virtual image of oneself in unfettered by reality, it's just that you humans always try to stick to your dailylife selves while here, as if bringing them on board each time, ah but that is where you become unstuck then don't you human, if only because, given the nature of forumland, there really is no "time", nor "day", "age", "gender", or "place" for that matter, there is only "you" and "here" here, that's all, just you can't prove anything about yourselves, within reason you could be anyone and anything...", the slot had been looking on "...well said goblin, fancy a coffee...", "...good thinking slot..." and with that the goblin calls over to the counter "...another espresso please, for me and my laptop friend here...", while pointing to his laptop now, "...ah, sinor goblin, you are always typing away, one day you'll lose grip with reality, promise, then you'll go nuts big time..." replies the bistro owner's wife concerned, but the goblin's face just lit up at the thought as he puts his hands together in some praying motion, replying "...oh but yes, sounds great, and the sooner the better too...", just that reality seemed so limited


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