Write Live

This suited Dejavu, who was not crippled. Nor was he a boy any more, only when one's got to go, one's got to.

Repissed then, from nearby and not over ten minutes ago:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=olA3AaodsnA"]REMARC ice cream n syrup [hard mix] - YouTube

 

... and again the little mouse laughs. "Indeed not very far at all, nor long ago." And she sips her Calvados as she thinks on a suitable reply, not a repositioning then, but new.

"Yes," she cries out and peers into the kitchen trying to figure out if she really smells toast. "but you will have to be patient, for new posts take time and ..." the mouse must stop the tippity tap on her keyboard, for her mouth waters and her tummy grumbles. "cheese and toast, nom. Or crisps with whatever. But let's not deviate. New posts and time. Tomorrow then? Or maybe later this night for one never knows." she smiles as she whispers, "for a little hungry mouse cannot be trusted, not when there's crumbs to be stolen." and she scurries of to gather words and whatnot.

 

"Never again though," said Dejavu, already feeling the hangover of what he'd already hung up. "Let's give up all after-effects, ill or otherwise, and all thought of after lives, even if we give in to the odd left-over from time to time" he suggested, reeling still from the bad mannas of putting up a copy of his own stuff, having now to put up with having done so. To Dejavu, reposting others things was fine, since he never did so to hurt them. It was the best form of flattery this side of imitation. He was a loving keeper of contexts, second only to his life as a lover of our wildernesses. He snuck, no matter who opposed the words being in the english language, a look at the mouse and asked himself whether or not she was trying to make him hungry with all these cheeses and chocolates and bacons and toasts and wines and rolls and twists and... he had to go settle the restless though spirited sea of his stomach at once! There it was again, the having to go. Just like motion had explained nearly everything to Dejavu when he thought nothing else could, our wanting, our desire, was a lucky trick, not just a foolery, to make lovers of us all.

 

The little mouse smiles as she reads Dejavu's words. "Us livewriters are always hungry. We feed of the replies and feed forumland with our own." And she sips her Calvados while she has had enough of numbers and accounts and is glad to be into the land of words again away from daily life and its motions to go throuhg. "A hang-over? Really?" She laughs and pops another piece of delicious chocolate in her mouth.

A repost then, for she loves them, as you will in time when you've gotten a taste for it.

She smiles while reading about a study on human behaviour. "Aren't you what you post? Isn't the inner most self revealed by how words are read and reacted upon? By how one posts, what one posts and when? There is always the choice between the smile/good and the snide/bad (or when done right, very good)" The little mouse can't help herself and laughs out loud, for the silliness of it all. "How important it is for certain people to be someone on forumland, whereas some merely write and publish to be read by humans buying her books." She accepts the nice apology by xxxx and offers her hand in return. "Nice to meet you too. Don't just stand aside and observe, you might as well join in for good. Making a start already like you did. Do not fear, even the sneaky ones can be seen and reacted upon." Stepping aside the mouse lets one of those pass as to not get caught by it. "They not only fly but live under bridges too, you know?" And she warns with a wink. "And losing your marbles? Let's just say that a little crazy makes for a hell of a story."

 

"No, it didn't really hang me Lucky, but I did gain insight into where reposting could take on an unbecoming uniformity, its death as the writing of old, not the ever new ongoing opening of what could be more than show tell, a shuttle into the life where if there is still any remnant pleasure in writing it, it would never be written "Oh yes, and then there were the livewriters ( may they rest peacefully elsewhere ) who kindly thought to provide us with pictures in case we hadn't the time or were so taken with our own as to be able to read them." Dejavu had once nearly lost his marbles. "We've never been chopped livers" he went on. "Continuity comes to us naturally, whether we like it or not. And not just because we are what we eat, or shit for that matter, that is, matter. How could we ever, having lived, say that life all up is a cannibal, or worse, an accountant!?" He laughed taking up Luckys little hand in his own, and kissed it, mostly so that one thing wouldn't necessarily lead to another, that lips mightn't do as hands do, not to mention that the mouse looked very much married. "Yes, it's all hands on deck, but life is never plain for long!"

 

...funny that. I thought she was married too, and she never listens to me too neither do you lucky, though either way the books keep selling themselves now...

"...and glad to see you have given up on your blog, waste of time they are where I'll wager you have been read more by your dabble at 'livewriting' already, though if you are going to take it seriously I'd suggest you do it anonymously..." Jats puts the kettle on just back from a one handed day with his poorly finger throbbing incessantly as the dark nights fall quickly and suddenly now "...and reading more I'm reminded you are married, though I'll ignore that fact on occasion for one of the benefits of being anonymous is it frees the readers imagination for as you well know, there is nothing better than fantasy then..." smiles the chameleon off to do the rounds on forumland now where he can be anything anyone wants him to be

 

("...still posting my newest stuff between yours and Jats's thread, while posting my old stuff on mine..." went the goblin enjoying the reads)

repost from elsewhere, new, a writer's forum again

("...reviews are false gods, where instead the number of views to your work becomes one's readership without further conjecture..." smiled the goblin as if offering a big hug in his way, and then adding "...well you're a writer now, you'll meet rejection and flames at every corner on the way, and from unexpected quarters too, but you need to keep asking yourself if it's really you by what you've written or something that's not you then, so please, let's have no more talk of giving up now, for in the end you write with your readers but never just for them...", simply, the goblin had often felt that the readers were like a pack of wolves, where indeed it was such fun to write with them in mind, yet one never quite allowed them near enough to let them devour you up through their exceptions, for one would be like dead to oneself writing like that then


xxxx 47 545

 

The little mouse laughs reading the latest posts in her thread. "Jats," she says while sitting on the sofa and hammering away on her keyboard. "I do listen, on occasion, to you and Flea too, but surely you understand that one cannot always listen and must act on impulse sometimes? Just to make sure that the continuity is ensured, for it doesn't always comes naturally, Dejavu. Isn't is true for humans that they must work at their story lines and avoid the plot holes whenever they can? Although some seem to take joy in finding those to fill them with new stories in a way creating another form of continuity." The mouse shivers and rises to get a hot cup of coffee. "My story seems to continue rather fine, thank you. Even if some twists are sudden, it's still my story. So you are right in a way, Dejavu. Continuity does come naturally. Humans are born, live their lives and die. But only a few really live, the rest goes through the motions of daily life and live a life made of dreams and wants and wishes instead of opening their eyes to see the world surrounding them, to see the one within." Sat on the sofa she listens to the little sounds the house produces. Funny how one can find happiness when one follows ones fantasies and she is reminded of that dream she had. The one that came true.

 

"We all really live, and not all of us die" said Dejavu, not wanting anyone to be left out of his naughtiness any more than he would deny them a treat if he had one about him. "And I knew you'd get around to agreeing with me Lucky" he said sighing, minding only a little that she felt she had to disagree with him in the first place. "Your story continues wonderfully, and I hope you didn't think..." but already he saw that she had, and that to say more on the subject would be to raise it to something it needn't be. "I think you listen just fine" he added, "which is why I'll whisper now, to you, that leading ones fantasies is possible too..." Dejavu looked at flea and joked, wolfishly, "You could never go cold on us kid! We're not so exceptional that we'd finish you off with expectations!"

 

("...some good reads again..." mentioned the goblin reading away, adding "...early days, always early days it seem with all forumland to slow entice to one's pen, that all...")

repost from elsewhere, new, the "what happened to me" thread

"...then just throw away you pen and stop writing completely xxxxx..." suggested the goblin bluntly, adding "...well, see if you can stop I mean, where if you can't, then you'll know for sure that you really are a writer without all those a writer should be this that or the next thing amusing conjectures you keep tying yourself up with, yes it pains me to see you hurt like this, because I've seen what you can write, you write well, but boy do you always seem to get in the way of your writing with those wacko conjectures on the nature of writing and upon writers in general...", somehow the two fates of hamlet and mcbeth were reflected in the goblin's mind here, but between the two it always seemed better to be mcbeth who got the choice wrong than hamlet who didn't make that choice at all, concluding "...you once asked me to befriend you, and I do still, so either pick up your pen or throw it away entirely, that way you'll know if you are a writer by nature, where nature my dear xxxxx does not need a reason for writing, it doesn't pose questions upon itself nor judge itself neither, simply it flows naturally with neither conjecture nor doubt to stop it, it just is writing without reason..."


xxxx

 

"Nature needs no reason, Goblin, and we all have expectations, Dejavu." says the little mouse as she looks out the window and watches how is does what it does without a need to please or expects anything in return. "Only humans seem to need reasons to justify their expectations and demand understanding or even sympathy. What if all humans would seize to expect what they feel is how others should/could be, because their perception of the other humans is tainted with their expectations and might not be aligned with reality at all and therefor can never be fulfilled to match their expectations." The little mouse sits back and smiles. "Just be and live the way ones story naturally flows to the rhythm of the music that sets ones pace to find that inner most peace and then, only then one can be fully content. But wouldn't that be a perfect world? And we all know there is no such thing as perfection, there is only life with all its flaws which show just how one should count his/her blessings instead of look for what one does not/cannot have." And she rises to prepare an espresso before going out into daily life with all its magnificent imperfections.

 

"Yes, nature needs no reason, and we all have expectations!" Dejavu agreed, agreeing with little else the little mouse said about the humans he cared for. 'Just be' he chuckled, jatsically, 'easy enough for a mouse to overlook the becoming in us all.' He yawned and stretched and readied himself for slumber. A word before dozing though he thought, in defence of the humans, who wanted to understand beyond the demand to. "If humanity is the seizure it half-expects itself to be, undone in all undertakings, then it really ought to look itself over. You know, up and down and with the seductiveness belonging to such an all-covering uncovering." He smiled. He was very sleepy now, he wanted to be fresh to rise, so he rolled over, deciding not to be anymore until morning. :-D

 

"Ah, humans. Yes, why do they over-estimate the impact they have on Earth, on each other even? Their seductiveness wears off soon enough when the little annoying habits creep back and they try to change the human they supposedly care for." The little mouse laughs happy to know she has more than one herself too and cares not for those of others. "Sorry for the late reply, but daily life has its way of pulling on one and one must answer or/and give account. For one is always bound, if not by debauchery than by red tapes and those cannot be cut, not like ropes or strings." she smiles and sips her coffee. "Yes, the numbers came up and want their share of time, while they are insignificant but to the money god they mean everything and from time to time one must obey him." And the mouse stares at the stack of papers on the table.

... a repost then

The little mouse smiles and stares, thinking about debauchery and lust and ropes and human fantasies. "What if all humans were tied, with unbreakable ropes?" she muses. A grin breaks her cool façade and she whispers, "Wouldn't that be fun? Just to see which human could stand the strain of being bound into one place, of not being able to have its way?" But what if those ropes are made of red tape? Isn't that more binding than any rope can ever be? And aren't all humans already bound into their proper place by society's threads?
"I'll have the debauchery and lust instead, if I may." the mouse smiles and thinks of her perfect world.

 

To be plain ( since life itself couldn't ) Dejavu didn't care to calculate the estimations of our impact, whether under or over, and to be sincere ( since life couldn't help but be so in the sanguinary simplicity of survival ) he had no time for the binds of others if they didn't want to be unbound. He thought he'd give madame mouse the benefit of his redoubtable doubt in this matter, for he suspected she cared for humanity at large and not only those within the particulars of her charge. His idea that Lucky thought he might be trying to change her amused him greatly, and he said "No, it wouldn't be fun, and yes, you'd best have the debauchery and lust instead, for life is an unbinding, an unending, an opening, an overcoming." The tail of this lionish line swished as he lauded it. "The history of religion, for every last church mouse concerned, or not so much concerned as caught up in it, has been the freedom of the spirit from the body. Unfortunately for it, and the mice, not in it."
He laughed, knowing, in himself before his pride, the reality of red tape would lie strewn, the entrails of ideas that failed lifes advances. :-D

 

"Ah, but one can care for humanity at large and yet be uncaring for the individual unknown human." The little mouse smiles and would feel sorry for Dejavu if life might never bring what he seeks to him ... "Words can have so many different meanings to individuals, one can never be sure what another truly means," the mouse stares at her screen and agrees with Dejavu, "Exactly! One cannot care for the bindings of another if that one is happy being bound and fears the great unbinding life itself is. But humanity must be cared for, for one cannot not care for humanity as a whole and have ones self remain untouched, unchanged. Celebrate the feast of life with all its possibilities if one only dares to free ones self from the tethers and truly roam free. Nothing but the journey to ones self and bring as much company as one can. For life is what one makes of it, one is not made by ones life. Not if a human takes a chance to truly open their eyes and see what is right instead of blindly following the dictations of holy books/scrolls/words." The little mouse whispers and smiles while she rises to prepare for her daily liberating routine before setting out into the great outdoors for another wonderful day of adventures and laughing she adds, "Aha, but a Dejavu cannot change a mouse, for the past is gone and will never return not even in a vision of the future past. Besides a mouse will always finds its own way while some do not seek for they have found a path befitting their humanity."

 

"I am only a Dejavu until the great unbanning, whatever that may mean to you," said Dejavu "and I would never change anyone against their will anyway, so get used to it!" He looked again at the mouse. "One can be caring for humanity at large and yet be uncaring for the individual unknown human?!" He roared with laughter. "How?!" ------ "No little mouse, one can't be uncaring for the unknown, but I do understand the sense of your sentence to speak the danger of the greatest good of the greatest number" He wondered, his naughtiness now reaching proportions he couldn't contain, if the mouse, through all her papers, was to then come across it. ;-D

 

repost from elsewhere, new, upon the discrepancy once more

"...ah now, that's just your dailylife for you isn't it, so that's why you then have this forumland here to be the you that are not in your dailylife, your alter-ego perhaps but still you by your pen though..." ventured the goblin who too, had to be so superficial in dailylife if only because the world of adults is one of lies, admittedly white-lies perhaps but lies just the same, and then the goblin smiled, saying "...simply, you can't escape the social trappings of your dailylife for all your thoughts, I mean how you look in the mirror, your age, your status, your finances, your heath, and umpteen other criteria that go up to make that you on the outside, which you've realized is not really you on the inside is it, so today you see a discrepancy between the you within and the you they see you as, meaning that from this point onwards one hides oneself in full view by lying, thus gaining an inner independence by it..." continuing "...so keep posting now as I'll befriend you in my way human, and together we can laugh and chat anonymously like this until slowly you'll see who your really are by what you post, think of it as a journey to self if you like, so just keep rendering unto this dailylife what is dailylife's, all it's white-lies then, while here you can be you now, that's all...", but didn't everybody know that goblins were not to be trusted


xxxx

 

"One should always be who they are," says the little mouse. "Even with a white lie every now and then." That reminds her of another occasion and a good reason for a repost.

The little mouse thinks on that one. A smile plays around her lips as she gazes out to the flowers in bloom, luring the insects with their promise of riches, of food. "... aren't all lies the same, for what else is a lie but a lie? What colour would you call a lie that isn't white? What sense does it make to assign colours to lies? How bad is it to tell a lie? Isn't the white lie equally misleading as the lie with no colour. Then again isn't telling the truth sometimes worse than telling a lie? Would it not be better to be silent instead? The wasp trap tells a lie when it makes promises with the flashing of its colours. It promises things the little animal longs after. It is truth too, for in the bottle is the finest nectar, only the animal won't be able to carry it home. Instead it will perish in this wealth it found." The little mouse cannot stand the struggle of the living creature and releases it knowing no living being should be tortured like that, held by lies, lured by contraptions. The lies have to end. Decidedly the little mouse releases the flying creature. The bottle is rinsed and put away. There is only truth in nature, even when it lies. It is humans who grade lies while nature has no notion of worth or value.

 

repost from elsewhere, new, goblin welcoming someone here first, then modified for the christian forum elsewhere

"...then let us write to uplift the downtrodden together xxxxx, and to bare witness to our times then..." suggested the goblin always recommending anonymity upon the internet though, adding "...for these are troubled times indeed, where there can be no outright winner in the end, and where the empire, the G20 then, in its last gasps it seems, takes us down the well trodden path to war now, why, because this currency war that they have embarked upon will fail for sure, just like the resulting trade war that follows will fail too, where only the proxy war will remain as an option, yet see how quickly that just spreads into something larger still, and yes the world has stood on the brink of this abyss many times before...", just that age old course of the history of downfall repeating itself within this modern-day setting, where the goblin just concluded "...so perhaps God's true mercy is this unsustainability of those towering empires that man seems to render unto each ceasar in succession, so come let us bare witness to it now, for those who close their eyes to this are not the righteous and true, for faith should never blind one to the downtrodden here, so tell me about the elephant in the room in all his religious guises though I would prefer to think of him as the elephant that is inside of me too..."


xxxx