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

"Decisions, decisions and such grave ones too." The little mouse sips her first coffee and thinks it is far too early, both in life and this day to even consider such a thing. "Humans are far too eager to stay alive, no matter what. What with the new DNA combining they even want to make humans which no longer fall prey to whatever fault their child may inherit. Aren't there enough humans already? Do they really need to save them all? Aren't they aware that by saving each and every human, keeping even those alive who already passed their expiration date they add to the unbalance their ecosystem is in. More mouths to feed, less wild nature to sustain them all, more cars, more electricity needed, less air to breath for the forrest needs to make room for agriculture and ..." The mouse shakes her head, "... far to early." And she eats her breakfast looking at the propagator containing the seeds for new life waiting to happen.

 

"Not thoughtless, just not stopping to think." said Dejavu remembering when he had said to thedope not that long ago how he loved those who could think on their feet, and wondering if thedope would ever, like 'thought', let the dialectic come, not first, but... come. "You're right about my asking no-one to travel to such a place though" said Dejavu, admiring thedope for his showing up.

 

Spooging at the mouth, thedope considered, is appropriate at times when we are sufficiently titillated and in the privacy of your own privacy. No one wants mouth spackle all over them uninvited and if you are not circumspect in what you say around company you could find yourself inadvertently contributing to some offense like the time a preschool young man objecting to being sent to bed and in a fit of spastic displeasure uttered the syllable that sounded like the word fuck. The tot couldn't properly represent the word in all of it's conjugations having never uttered it before or used it in any other context, but it flew finely dictated from his lips and could be clearly and starkly discerned from the accompanying spittle. As fabulous and fitting as that syllable felt in coming forward expressively in that situation, it's expression by people younger than older people is strictly forbidden and the lad simply succeeded in bring down the law ever more severely on himself. So much more the humiliation because the boy did not intend to violate or say anything specific and he felt it such an injustice that it would follow him off and on through life happening at such a suggestive age. Simply he would consider in the future, what he said before he said it, out loud.

 

Dejavu discussed a disc at thedope

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U7tfsBA-9O0"]dope style "You must think first" 1994 - YouTube

 

repost from elsewhere

"...they're very good, and I get to read them first MYAHAHAHA..." replied the goblin loving the fact that he didn't know how the story would go, continuing "...pick any book form the shelf then, one knows a lot about it before even opening it, but not with livewriting, no, in fact, one doesn't even know if the story has an ending...", and with that the goblin remembered those writers in the writer's club again, all those many years ago now, and how they too, were all somehow addicted by that unknownness in unfinished unpublished works that the others were writing at the time, so much so that the real published books just seemed as dead by comparison, adding "...and good times they were, just we couldn't stay the course with commitments elsewhere, and today it's here now..."


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repost from elsewhere, the rocker's "last post" thread

the goblin was listening to king crimson's album "the court of the crimson king" again, saying "...somehow it defies time, it's as if the album itself could come out today, and everyone would simply think that it is ultra-modern, where no one ever would think that it came out 1970 that is, just it defies time to become ever classical..."


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

the goblin has been trying to calm the monster under the bed, saying "...don't be scared now, any bumps in the night at our age is simply a figment of your imagination..."


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repost from elsewhere, someone had mentioned bournmouth

"...ah bournmouth..." said the goblin trying to remember where it was exactly, somehow strange vague images of seagulls and candy-floss, boarding house commandants, and a girlfriend who kept saying "yerwhat, geroff" between her either being recklessly romantic or totally homicidal, "...well at least with her, you always knew where one stood I suppose..." remembered the goblin at it


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repost from elsewhere, a friend having a dig at the "last post" thread there

"...almost right there, it's a humorous non-sequitur to relieve the boredom of posting on more legitimate topic threads actually..." replied the goblin somehow seeing that those legitimate topic threads never really got the hits, nor the posts, to them that these "last post" threads did, adding "...oh the guilt of everyone's reading this less legitimate post then, and that of the my writing it too...", at which point the heaven burst open and popcorn rained forth


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repost from elsewhere

"..."presentation without substance" is like tinfoil to the ear, whereas "substance without presentation" comes across like lead then, and yet "presentation with substance" is as gold...” worded the goblin into lord chesterfield's idea once more, as he sat in the bistro, where often his day was passed like this, with the clients climbing one mountain in the morning and another mountain in the afternoon, while the poor goblin was actually paid, albeit a pittance, to standby in the bistro separated by lunchtime, where there too he simply accepted his meal stoically, and by which the goblin somehow understood the meaning of self sacrifice here, for he knew too, that is he wasted his life for dailylife, and that it was really only such simple solaces, such as an ever befriending computer, coupled with the power of his coffee, coupled the goblin's own undaunted desire to post and reply upon edit threads here, that held his mind precariously in check from that horribly depressive thought, of what his life might actually have been like, if he had accidentally stumbled into a "proper job" in life, in fact, the mere thought of which still sent the goblin's hand rushing for its coffee again such was the strain of it all


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repost from elsewhere

the goblin on that day seemed to remember a time prier to that, when she put her cigarette down a second saying "...see, for all my smoking I don't get ill much, I fight it and, that way, each cold just turns into these..." as she had pointed to a few little inconspicuous lumps, and of course the goblin, if he was listening at all, had just casually taken it at face value, anyway, if she believed in it, it could well be true for her, besides, she just worked opposite him and the goblin had more important things to deal with, like learning the ropes and getting all that work done, though now on this particular day she was on maternity leave leaving the goblin with double the workload, while somewhere outside, part of that sunny london afternoon filtered into the the wide office which always seemed just as stuffy as it was busy, work mostly blinkered the goblin's senses away from all that though, no, here was a treadmill, and the deadline demanded attention, "...another booking flea, get to it, oh and be more careful this time..." the boss said handing over yet another telex written in a code predating the computer reading "16/06/82 15twb, 1swb, 2nts HB, Ramada" as the goblin would then off the date 16th June 1982, 15twin bedded rooms and a single bedded room, two nights, half board, in the ramada hotel", "...right away..." the goblin replied as he first phoned the hotel to confirms things before sending a reconfirmation telex afterward, anyway loathing it, how he just hated his work, besides, he wasn't accepted there either, let alone appreciated, and all this would have, and should have just slipped into the goblin's memory by now, after all these years, save that the boss was talking on the telephone though all this noise, quite normally in fact, until after a minute or two into the conversation he then thanked the caller replacing the receiver as if he was in slow motion, where turning he talked aloud, not so much to tell the goblin anything, more just to turn over in his mind what had happened again, saying "...that was the hospital, seems they had discovered a large tumor and had to operate, she's dead but the baby was saved...", and the goblin's wife too, was pregnant at the time


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repost from elsewhere

"...feed me..." the slot says upon the goblin's return "...sorry I'm late slot, how's it going, I see the other members have been here..." "...yer they're much smarter than you thought goblin, they're not into pictures yet, but don't think you can win against those comments though...", the goblin smiled, he knew when the slot was baiting him, "...if you say so, if you say so..." the goblin wasn't biting, "...feed me, you have mountains of stuff I know, goblin, feed me..." the goblin leaned over and said "...surely, a thread like this should feed upon itself, it's not just one member here you know..." but the slot just opened it mouth again and repeated "...ah but that tally is always yours alone goblin, you can't hide behind others either, simply that tally remains you to yourself by your posts..."


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repost from elsewhere

the goblin was not sure what it was all about at this point, but sure, it would have to come across like outstandingly awesome, perhaps the ultimate thought itself inspired by the deepest of coffees even, and yet all the goblin could actually think about was his dailylife, dailylife, dailylife, "...ok I've rendered unto dailylife enough today don't you think, so could we have "awesome" for a moment..." shouted the goblin out of the blue to his dailylife but dailylife just changed the tune from the goblin's "home" to his "family" then his "work" on to his "money" back to his "home" again, thinking the goblin wouldn't notice the trick but the goblin did, and his resentment at it was so heartfelt at this point, crying "...no, this sheep is wise to that trick by now, can't I get anything more than dailylife each time..."


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repost from elsewhere

whatever cards dailylife played, the goblin always returned to his posting, somehow the random threads for him was ever his way of seeing what he could come up with, and to see how he could take form there, "...well yes, I suppose I could just write the first thought that came into my head tagging the threads each time, yet I wonder what I would have actually got out of my posting with that approach..." mused the goblin more appreciative of the openness of the idea of anything goes but prepare it first since that then resulted in being forced to face oneself, "...now, if someone were to ask me "what do I win" my answer has to be "depends on how much one is challenging oneself" but in the end the only person who knows if one has won that challenge is oneself..." ventured the goblin also knowing too that without a sense of audience and that feeling of deadline his writing could soon get overlooked as one slips back into a dailylife without any real need to cast reflection upon it, which as you have probably realized about your own dailylife too, is exactly how your dailylife wants it to be..."


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"It is from our deepest respect for others, and not only ourselves that we face ourselves before them. Only by sharing oneself with oneself, by telling ourselves to ourselves do we overcome the cloying conscience that says 'just as dailylife passes, you too must pass on with it, passing yourself to it is of no use'." said Dejavu to the goblin, enjoying this last post of his, and wanting to reassure him that good too would have come of his words even had he only utilized the principle of post and dispose. "Utility, what a burden on ones who feel not only reflective, but creative!" He laughed, hearing in his laughter the edges of what could tear up the burden he spoke of.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d1CNwwNUmbc"]Merci! ( Bodhisattva in metro) - YouTube

 

("...what I wanted to read Dejavu..." went the goblin, adding "...the odd thing is that we're only about four or five is us here, and between us, we seem to offer more reading material than many of those large forums whose thousands of soundbit type posts just look tags..." in fact, the goblin often saw it as not so much forumland as moronland here, saying "...it's like their self insecurity is so evident that they even fear to be different now, but we are different, we're outsiders perhaps but we will have something of ourselves by the time we're done, what will they have for all their years of posting soundbits...")

epost from elsewhere

"...it's a funny game, this one then, I'm reminded of when, as a child, I used to land my hand on some friend's hand on a table only to have them slap their hand on mine trumping it, only to have me place my other hand on the hands now where, always slipping out the bottom hand, the friend and I place a hand back on top of the pile repeatedly..." mentioned the goblin, continuing “...in fact, when one thinks about it the game itself never really had any point beyond the fact that it showed a pact between those who played it, and that it made a lot of noise too...” and today too, all these decades later, it seems that the goblin is still playing that game in this posting, as pointless as ever, where the same old pact with others continues here


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repost from elsewhere

the goblin too, works on a daily basis, and of late feels that it's not enough to meet his pride towards his family, saying "...no, not that it's as yet a hard luck story with me, just that it is seasonal, as it is for many other sectors in society today, yet this winter of insecurity here is one that is slowly building a mindset within most families of avoiding risks and veering towards more and more thrift for one's survival, which is precisely what a society based on consumerism and on a sustainable populations should try to avoid...", where the goblin had also noticed too, that the amount of time his own children spent studying had increased somewhat, and that, although they would never say it aloud, the goblin had somehow guessed that they had rightly concluded that their parent's way of settle down, buy a house, and raise a family was fast becoming something too risky to pursue in today's climate, "...actually, if I were in their shoes, I'd probably be thinking along those lines too..." mentioned the goblin, often telling them instead just to survive this economic downturn, not that they needed much convincing as the evidence was just wherever one looked, albeit in an all too evident yet officially unmentioned manner


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

the goblin was hating his past at this point, simply his ghosts were either of happier moments or they were of vile ones, yet either way, they never returned nor disappeared entirely, that is never to be relived nor to die outright now, no they just haunted and taunted the goblin from his past now, "...seems the older one gets, the more painful these memories become..." mentioned the goblin ever vexed at it


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repost from elsewhere,

the goblin either holds tight to hope now, or refutes the possibilities thought by thought, logic by logic, or he just casts his mind elsewhere for a while, but either way the sky is darkening quickly around him, growing ominous and unavoidably imminent in its steady menacing approach, somehow its unsure shadow seems far worse than any actual impact, just the fear seems worse than its reality then, "...funny, I will kick myself for not being happy before whatever happens, and afterwards I'll probably laugh at whatever ill providence had dished out for me, just that I'm as much a coward to my imagination as I am brave to my reality..." mused the goblin at its coming, adding "...just one's reality is the devil one knows, whereas one's imagination is the devil one doesn't..."


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repost from elsewhere, another curve on the road

the goblin, somewhat late in his life, was growing up fast, simply time's tide was finally washing away those last ruminants of a bulwark, where his parents had been, leaving the goblin directly exposed for the first time to his fortune, "...no, not that I ever depended on them financially but they were there just in case, with advice, praise and as a visual benchmark too, so somehow any freedom, or independence, that will be left in their wake hardly feels a fair exchange today, but at least it's me watching them go on, which is the correct sequence in families is it not..." mentioned the goblin actually thanking death for playing a straight hand here, in that death owed the goblin nothing, it could have played its "wild card" whenever, mind you it still could too


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