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

repost from elsewhere, one of Jat's most memorable lines then

the goblin loved that line, it had made his day he felt, saying "...so true, so much so that sometimes I shock myself by what I write back it's like those long moments late at night where one's mind is in deep think mode, and where one picks through a pile of random like thoughts once more, till one finds just one that seems to go somewhere, following it, typing it down slowly, rubbing it half out, retyping it, editing again, on and on it flows from one's keyboard within the slot, like so many advancing waves of an ongoing tide, part written, part rubbed out, repeated till finally it's finished..." continuing "...only that it's not really finished at all, no the post has only just been born now, oh yes it needs it's picture, but more importantly, it needs repeatedly reposting, and all that editing that that entails, dozens of times maybe...", this then was what livewriting was all about, the cutting and polishong of posts, thus keeping them alive by it


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repost from elsewhere

the goblin too, didn't know whether to put down to his ongoing age or to his writing perhaps, but he was growing ever more detached from his dailylife in his sentiments at least, saying "...funny, but maybe all this writing in third person has turned me into a third person by it, as in the difference between me and my surroundings...", where the goblin often joked that his motto was actually anonymous on the internet, invisible in dailylife, yet how piteously evident it had all become by now, even if it did seem the price of one's freedom of expression here, for how could one ever be both impartial and known, saying "...no, it's one or the other now..."

 

repost from elsewhere, explaining ho the goblin's saw it then

the goblin simply repeated that forums were like venues here, that is, if one walked down broadway or across soho for that matter, one saw was many different venues types like "opera" "ballet" "drama" "musicial" "fringe" to name a few, "...look, in the end, there is only one's content and this internet here, that's all, the venues are unto themselves, impermanent at best, at worst distracting you with pointless side plots between them, but you need them, because a livewriter has to repost across venues, accepting rejection as win/win then, feeding off the content of other posters too, yes, but then creating and polishing his own content though reposting...", so perhaps the difference between a normal poster and a livewriter was in this reposting then, that simply the posts were kept alive by their reposting, not just posted once, forgotten and left to fade away somewhere like the majority of posts one sees across forumland


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And if one should loose a foot or fare to get there and one lost an eye for all the trifling and find his last a squad a riffling he stood tied to post posthumous it occurs maybe to one if not to most, if we must post that post, have a good time of it, post humorously.

 

("...funny how even a short post by you, encourages me to post on now..." went the goblin thanking thedope for his company, adding "...often it's hard to follow your rapport with dejavu but I never miss a post by either of you, and you both have a certain writing flare that is missing from the average poster in their plainness...")

repost from elsewhere, conversing with a spirit persona

"...ah now, the twist my dear spirit is just, that one is winning the unwinnable while one still can..." mused the goblin still feeling it to be a game while it lasted, "...and yes, the point of this game is unknown and an unknown cut off point too, just that there was the great plot itself and all those tedious sub plots around it, so perhaps the game is simply to recognize which plot was which, within that unknown allotted time remaining, that's all...", something, to the goblin then, that was neither some religion, nor rocket science, it was just a his journey do self as he always called it


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repost from elsewhere

"...alright I suppose, still looking for new forums though, trouble is that most forum titles that appear in search engine have nothing like the forum itself, I mean most of those writer's forums are "anything but bigtime", I got banned yesterday because my writing style again, yet what they wrote was so sanitized that it that nothing was much read there anyway, and yes, sometimes it narks me to be banned just because of the way someone writes, but this time, as with about three other places this week, it actually felt quite win/win putting them beyond my concern, since I'm not confrontational by nature and just want engagement, not instruction..." said the goblin, who elsewhere had simply unclicked the subscribe to box of those forums he felt didn't merit his staying, so basically it just boiled down to a minimal requirement here, of reasonable post rate, a tolerant admin, and some engaging content, "...so full marks on this forum then..." mentioned the goblin, who dearly wished that he could just type into the forum dating search engine's slot something like a lively experimental tolerant forum for an old fart please, but no, one had to wade through this wad of dead losses and bans to even find the odd forum that hadn't seen all his posts before, after all, all this ongoing editing still had to continue somewhere, "...um, so much for your "forum dating" experience there goblin..." went those voices in the background once more


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repost from elsewhere

"...for one's journey to self then..." replied the goblin "...for even one's greatest effort cannot hold back the snow that will cover your tracks here, oh they're left for providence perhaps, but there's no guaranty that providence will ever wish to keep them however perfect those tracks might be...", the goblin stopped, reflected, and then added "...no, one writes for oneself here, as oneself too...", simply, the goblin, from his being anonymous, somehow knew that all his posts were, in effect, dead by the time he hit the post-button, and yet his journey to self remained, where that alone, for all his posting, or for his not posting too, remained as something constant in the chaos of this unpredictable


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repost from elsewhere

the goblin apologized again, saying "...the picture is a very important evolution in one's posting here, in that, if they touch you, it means you have the illustrator's eye then, whereas, if they hadn't, it would have been harder for you to illustrate your posts with any insight...", though the goblin hadn't added the picture for the reader's sake here at all, no, it simply went back to that same old question of "what image is this text conveying here", "...and yes, when the match is perfect, the reader, as you put it correctly in my view, jumps into the picture then..." mentioned the goblin perhaps as a vindication of illustrating then, adding "...who knows perhaps too, you'll see this poster's illustrating eye in this picture now, the eye differs form poster to poster so what you see is my way of seeing things, one that's part reality and part reflection, yet it's an eye all the same..."


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thedope pondered but the briefest moment to conclude self reflection

 

("...you're a pleasure to post with..." went the goblin appreciating the short sweet and correct answer that thedope had come up with)

repost from elsewhere, the path of livewriting

"...beautiful post, such raw talent too..." said the goblin feeling he should open up a bit more, adding "...and if there's one thing I like it's the way raw talent feeds me..." in fact, the goblin felt that there could be livewriters here, so he just explained it again, saying "...whereas a poster posts, a livewriter reposts, but hopefully not the same post twice on the same forum, so there's a natural progression here, starting the moment one does a post that one then wants to keep, meaning that one then has to store it somewhere, where perhaps one might then want to add a picture to illustrate it, and then one might with to share it elsewhere perhaps, or to edit it too while sharing it, so one posts the post on another forum anew, and then when that forum has seen all your previous works, one turns up at yet another forum, and then another after that too, on until one finally meets someone else on forumland, who just explains it by telling one what one had probably guessed all along, that it was just a natural progression here, and that moreover, one hadn't been alone in doing it now, that by now there were many livewriters out there, yes those who wrote in posts and just roamed forumland in doing so..."


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repost from elsewhere

"...nah, you only fail when you stop, otherwise you're winning here..." said the goblin, adding "...why when I was your age, I couldn't write one line without missing a word, I still can't mind you, only that I have learned to slowly edit my texts so that most of what you see of me here are reposts, where I have no shame in reposting, just I don't repost to any one site the same work twice that's all...", somehow the goblin remembered the eight versions of "the sun flowers" by van goth, and understood how sad it would have been if van goth had only done one of them instead, saying "...look to your posts mortals as each one is but a lone step upon a long journey to self..."


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repost from elsewhere,

"...thanks but I'm no critic..." said the goblin once more, and certainly the goblin would look over the text in a moment, but he still hadn't quite understood if this work was destined for the page or for the thread because, depending on which, the layout and writing style had to be changed accordingly, explaining "...in truth a lot of really readable pieces never get far on forums for their being too long for the reader to follow, so one is dealing with cutting up one's work into acceptable extracts, for example, I hope you'd agree that sixty lines is daunting to most readers here, whereas three posts of twenty lines each is exactly the same thing yet more likely to be read, why, because the reader thinks "oh, just twenty lines, ok, then let's read it"...", in fact the goblin always tried to stay under twelve lines max, seeing that many readers were more addicted to rapport rather than to actual reading per se, adding "...that publishing world is in turmoil at this point, the ebook market is faring little better, and so the real question become who amongst the writers is going be first to adapt to here first..." hence the number of livewriters are both evolving an increasing across forumland, but that, would have to be explained another time, for the goblin's time was up again where, post written matched with a picture too, it had to be stored away and reposted many times over before it was anything near right then


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repost from elsewhere, upon receiving the ashes of his mother

"...you do understand this situation all too well then goblin..." mentioned the slot now, in fact, the goblin seemed to be experiencing two worlds at this point, one being that of his direct family in geneva where he was ever directly responsible, and of the other of his role as son of his parents in this dartmoor village, where he wasn't directly responsible it seemed, only effected by them, replying "...yes slot, somehow this house, with its wind and rain, has an all too distinct sound to it, the birds outside call differently here, the water tastes different, perhaps too, even the hardness of the bed then, all this then, contributes to a feeling of a distinct different world around this old house's orbit perhaps, but you know me just too well by now, for when dad passes on, after that moment I will never return to spoil these childhood memories here, nor will I want to know how it has changed afterwards, just I bury my past within me don't I, naah none of that facebook cheapness here, and so, dad, in asking me to sprinkle mum's ashes into the sea at felixstowe ferry, as is our way of doing these things, has asked me to break my other childhood ghost that I've not set eyes upon in thirty years, replacing it with its new ghost then...", where somehow the goblin just was reminded here of those native americans who, at some event of great importance, broke a small bronze figurine to mark the moment, and perhaps too all rooted in human sacrifice then, something as both understandable and yet illogical too, saying "...anyway slot, yes I will sprinkle her ashes there then, for this ritual is mine now and mine alone, and as such, just for once then, it doesn't need to be done "right" at all, for no, something as deep as this really needs to be done ever so "felt" instead..."


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repost from elsewhere, the "Obama Surrendering Internet to Foreign Powers" thread

"...just I fear that the people of the united states will not be in position to stand up for themselves here, since one need look no further that the how the real power had been taken from the people at this point by the corporations, where politicians land great jobs after implementing policies detrimental to the health and safety of US citizens, and where environmental issues too for the sake of corporate america again, fly in face of the wishes of its people each time..." mentioned the goblin, who thought the UN was more like the wizard of oz, yes, but who also knew full well, that little mr jo average has almost no say in american politics today, adding "...simply if america takes over its internet as you say you wish, don't expect it to remain free of cost, for even now they are lobbying for just that, sorry I love america where we know that the politicians control well the hearts and minds of its people now, yet we are not so naive as to not know who controls the hearts and minds of those politicians, for well they might retire from politics then, but where to I wonder, if not straight into the awaiting arms of corporate america once more..."


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repost from elsewhere

and with a quick click upon the link here the goblin returned once more far away from his lunchtime bistro, after all his escape from the cold winter's reality of his dailylife merited it he felt, where no, geneva offered both security and comfort, but it couldn't actually offer the goblin any adventure, "...well now, if there's no adventure in being this human in dailylife, then there's even less in being an old fart upon forumland..." uttered the goblin hoping that it explained why he took on this persona here, a mask then, knowing too that it only works in literature where the author believes it too, so the mask had to be perminant to be credible, and yet, the goblin also saw that most people would think along those lines of some mythical creature out of some fantasy world by c s lewis or tolkien, whereas if they googled fleamailman, they would soon note the goblin was someone who played with computers bits, and with that the goblin's mind went back to the cave some years before where he had worked as a computer repairman, smiling "...yes I was a real computer goblin before I became a mask like this, so it's an easy persona to portray since it's partly based on a truth too, while partly I also play upon most people's misunderstanding...", where looking over his coffee the goblin appreciated what an incredibly deep rewarding and even stupid adventure this livewriting was turning out to be


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"The best rewards are often those perceived as silly and meaningless, their meaning only apparent when it is too late, or just in time as sometimes turns out to be," the little mouse reassures the Goblin. "Yes, Flea, not all is lost and a man, goblin, or mouse has to do what they have to to survive the madness they call daily life." And the little mouse smiles as she flicks through some old posts looking for the ones to repost on her blog for all the world to find as too not let those treasures be lost too like too many others have.

 

("...loved that post there, perfect picture too, so I look forward to monday each week now..." mentioned the goblin thanking the mouse, adding "...indeed, it's fun to see which one you choose then, where some seemed quite obvious to me, whereas others have surprised me making me rethink them..." where the idea of their being more like paintings rather than writings still seemed the goblin's gut feeling whenever he relooked at them, saying "...just they fall apart without that picture there...")

 

repost from elsewhere,

"...it's simple, I'm across thirty maybe forty edit threads of one type or another..." replied the goblin sifting his words somewhat, then continuing, "...so most of what you see here is form somewhere else where I'm editing in their reposting, no shame in that, and you can do the same and keep me company if you like, whereas you I imagine, probably have a whole bunch of stuff in various places and in various formats, which you could amass together here, doing what is would be your first posting then...", the goblin likened it perhaps to first editions of books where second editions became reposting perhaps, smiling "...your first edition then, later you'll have a fine body of works for more readers across forumland than you would have reached in either that bookworld or that blogworld, but more importantly you'll have developed your style too, for example this is how I tackle poems then, the title in the poems goes directly above the work in bold without a blanc spaceline, where the author's name goes 1 blanc spaceline below the poem and 1 blanc spaceline above the picture, meaning that when you finally repost those poems across forumland you'll receive feedback, or just be able to store them in a neater order now, where you'll correct any bugs in the process, so that is why a livewriter reposts, where a poster just posts once each time, so now that you understand me more, which method do you think serves one better in the long run..."


Ex-girlfriend
If I had known what I know now
I would not have asked
Nor grown somehow
Into that person in your past
Who remembers you still.

If I had better hidden what I hide today
I would not have shown you
Nor given away
The me that remains out of view
That l have to kill.

If I could hate you like I hated then
I would not have come today
Nor dashed again
These passions lovers pay
when all comes to nill.

-fleamailman-

 

repost from elsewhere

and so the sword of damocles had finally fallen softly upon its near lifeless corps to end it all, and yes, the goblin had grieved bitterly once, though not here, not today then, not at this point of death, ah no, it had been three years before now, and even before she had had to enter merlin's cave, the goblin explained "...no, looking back now the bitterest moment was the shock, while passing up the garden path towards the village square again, of a sudden damming realization, that she was already gone, her mind that is..." the goblin paused, as if trying to relate it here, continuing "...anyway, a short while later one adjusts to it, shrugs it off, and is still different toward her, as physically she is still there of course, yet as dead too, just someone else even...", but the goblin didn't know how to explain it further, so he once more rested his jaw on the cupped hand of his forearm placed like greek pillar on the wooden table and waited thoughtfully until inadvertently his tongue felt into the giant hole of a molar whose root had died some while back now, saying "...ah yes, something like this molar then I suppose, funny until today I somehow couldn't choose her ghost to recall her by, but from today then, she's my mother again, whole as I always knew her..."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mzcBGrxgWgc"]♥ It's Hard To Say Goodbye - Michael Ortega ♥ - YouTube


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repost form elsewhere

"...no, there is only ever this forumland, so wherever one goes, it remains oneself on forumland somewhere for the forums in themselves have no separate existence, they are the personas upon them, yet they start up and fold like so many trees in a forest, they're meeting places of those personas who nestle within their branches, so whether it's this forum or some other forum then, or wherever for that matter, the forum just is there, and instead one must look to one's own persona and the security of one's posts too upon it's of value to you..." ventured the goblin, trying to bridge his feelings now, adding "...so why do most adults hide behind a persona like this, where most youths display all their personal details in full view, could it be that the less one is known the more honest with oneself one can be, so perhaps too, it boils down to a choice between one's being honest to oneself interior or just being that facebook exterior each time, adding "...so in reply to that is there a place one belongs question, I guess my alter ego represented by my persona belongs to this forumland in its total then, but often here is more me to myself than that dailylife mask was ever me there..."


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