the last person to post here wins

repost from elsewhere, goblin doing the welcome here

Quote :

Would like to talk and network with other writers. I'm looking forward to chatting with you guys.

"...nah I don't get it, I mean why would anyone want to meet us writertypes anyway..." inquired the goblin welcomingly enough but thinking too, that as humans went, writertypes were alright in some placid potted plant stuck in front of a computer screen sort of way, where suddenly the film director's voice cuts into the background noise of the goblin's mind with a stern cry, just ready for the next shoot of the following scene, exclaiming "...light's, camera, and potted-plant time..." as nothing much moved beyond some typing fingers and the occasional hand going towards a coffee cup now, whereupon the goblin returned his concentration to here once more, adding "...look, I really do feel guilty about all this, I mean couldn't I interest you in someone else then, non writertypes perhaps, you know people somewhat more sane and normal now..."


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repost from elsewhere,

the goblin, unable to use his intellect to better intent, does the laundry observing that those few flakes of snow, that flutter, which the goblin hoped had passed this afternoon, now turned themselves into a full blown storm, the house echoes to gunfires as his son shoots people on the playstation while the goblin himself, trying to be out of jittery earshot, types somewhat shell-shocked in the bedroom, somehow the goblin knows that, on seeing this text here, he will look back with fondness at yet another poignant moment on his journey to self, so he quickly wrote this reminder to himself, writing "ah no goblin, you're actually miserable now" somehow knowing it'll never work then, and that this moment however awful will become yet another fond memory to him


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repost from elsewhere,

"...ah no, it only starts from here xxxxx..." mentioned the goblin, adding "...you watch then, the situation will only get worse worldwide I believe, if only because what underlines the unrest is not going away any time soon, in that the financial collapse on wall street, is fast moving onto the back streets now, and what's worse, in quashing of riots and rounding up the proprietors, which agreed is the right thing to do now, only pushes them into other means of descent, and then the dictatorship starts for real where the period of fear can be expected, and yes those revolutions you mention all came about by the repression of previous descent, but successful revolutions, failed revolutions, and counter revolutions, only ever usher in a dictatorship afterwards with its brutal repression, the the period of fear then, so france, russia, china, spain, germany, italy and have had their periods of dictatorship, due to either the dictator usurping government control to rule in its place, or else the unrest itself throws up a dictator from its own ranks, either way dictatorship results and a the period of fear follows..."


161 927 10053

Dear Goblin,

I am glad to see you post again.

When I think of snowflakes, it is only in my long ago memory as a child walking down a cracked sidewalk that comes out of the abyss of my memory. The sidewalk sloped a good degree and the weeds grew in the cracks and along the sides of is was broken glass that glittered in the winter sun. Snow was falling in big flakes, as you describe. That days comes back to me as I read your post. A white-grey day. I was seven years.

I wore an old mans woolen suit coat with the sleeves rolled up and all the big buttons buttoned and the collar turned up. If I sat down, it was a kind of tent that covered my cold knees and feet.

For the life of me I cannot remember why I was walking along that way. At the end of the sidewalk was a shop that had beautiful trinkets displayed in the window. I went in and someone came from out the back of the shop and spoke to me. The shop had two display cases that housed beautiful trinkets and some jewelry. It was an older woman whose smile, as I remember it, was kind and sparkled a little like the trinkets in the case.

She said, " They are pretty things. One day you will have pretty things, too".

At that time, pretty things were such a far away idea that I dared not consider that one day I could look upon such baubles.

Since then, I have found the real beauty of life is in the simple snowflake, the flower, the animal, the person's spirit.

I am sure I have not expressed that properly.

If there were one message that I would have carried over cyberland in my name, it is that. Look up, look down, look all around, beauty is there to behold .

Love,

Betty

("...you always write beautifully and in a letter writing style that is wondrously you by it with no need even to take note of username nor signature, just you then..." mentioned the goblin who too, remembered the things he had wanted in his past now, confiding "...if I could ever be someone else I would live in my late uncle's caravan by the sea, but those days are gone today, and dailylife had other plans for me, and most probably I would never have enjoyed it as much as the dream I hold towards it stil, an alternate realities and might have beens perhaps, just a debt to my past then...")

repost from elsewhere, helping out on their "introduction" section

Quote :

Hello, Everyone. After looking at myself within this forum for the first time it seems like a nice fit! I am a writer, hoping to get so many works out of my head and onto the page, well not page but uhm... well you get the point I also enjoy reading. I am looking forward to spending many hours in here!

and with that the goblin showed, saying "...well, you've done the right thing human, for there is much here for all types now, where your progression, from that of some simple potted plant stuck in front of a keyboard, might indeed progress into that of a lampshade with its light on full even, yet a lot depends upon your diligence and imagination here, so come post with us then, for the road to becoming an accomplished daydreaming lampshade is a long and arduous one but we are here to help you in your transformation from being normal into being more like us instead..."


161

Dear Goblin,

Memory is a wonderful tablet. Stuff that is written in the mind is etched, but colored by time and distorted by emotion. There seems to be no clear view. At least I do not see one. Perhaps that is the human factor.

Love,

Betty

("...two enormous packs of run of the mill sweets await those children who turn up at my door tonight, where those leftover I then give to the bistro, though to be honest I can't really see what any of this has to do with the day of the dead..." mentioned the goblin, continuing "...so I'll probably do my remembrance tomorrow when things are more quiet, besides, I don't think the dead will mind, seeing that the children are only like that for a very short while while the dead, well they never age now do they...")

repost from elsewhere,

odd then but, what with the death of his mother and the casting of her ashes to the sea a year or so back, any continuity of the goblin's past as something either leading into his present, or of being part of his present even, had all abruptly ended by it, so the slate was wiped clean now, debts repaid in their full, but memory lane, or at least the one that the goblin had journeyed down so often with his gradually vegetating mum, had finally become just that then, just the road behind him now


162

repost from elsewhere

whereupon the goblin showed up, saluted the man in the mirror once more, and then opened the awaiting slot's mouth, asking "...well slot what do you think, can readers ever follow something like this then...", "...nah, l don't think they ever read this far now goblin, a hopeless bunch the lot of them..." replied the slot chewing on the goblin's words before gulping them down now, continuing "...and besides goblin, the moment you start compromising for the sake of some unknown readership however flattering now, you're missing the whole point of your being anonymous on forumland, l mean who's post is it anyway where how can you prove it to yourself without being anonymous now, that's the whole point of your anonymity goblin, I mean isn't it your insincerity to your readers also your honesty to them too..."


162 932 10094

repost from elsewhere

Quote :

Together we create art. Its remarkable and I hope the artists we choose agree to the context and how we are spreading their work around. Not smearing mind you, sharing it and using the beauty we see in it. No one makes any money from this, its live writing and it lovely!

"...so true, and you are a versed exponent of it now, and yet I'm a realist here too..." mentioned the goblin thanking xxxxx, continuing "...in that I'm up against my own, if not everyone else's, lack of time now, where I can manage about a post a day, and where, judging from the hitcount and using myself as a benchmark now, I can tell that most people still have enough time to read these posts, whereas, if I were either writing a fully versed book or trying to pull people towards my blog, it increasingly looks like I'm asking too much from that time that none of us seem to have anymore, moreover, doesn't everyone want to have their say today, that is to form their own opinions from within their replies now, meaning, that unlike one way books, or those talking down blogs, this just becomes a two way street between the equals that we all are now..."


162 933 10102

Here.

Do I win?

("...oh yes you win demondeo, I'm one of your fans for I've been following your posts too, one of forumland's interesting posters, that spells winner to me then..." replied the goblin)

repost from "central character = you" thread, finished

Quote :

So how many people out there just have a habit of writing themselves into their stories? It doesn't mean it's an exact description of you, maybe it's a person you would like to be? Or maybe it's you in a situation you would like to be in? Would love to hear your thoughts!

"...not quite like that then..." replied the goblin, adding "...as I tend to be all of my characters now, that is, the muse is probably the inspirational part of me, whereas the goblin is just my normal self, the witchdoctor is the clever calculating part of me, the man in the mirror is me in dailylife, where my conscience is portrayed as the voice in the background...", whereupon the harlequin narrator just wondered why the goblin had forgot to mention her, not that she knew what part of him she was either, just that she had the woman's agility to portray the scene as she saw it, thinking "well that goblin's ok I suppose, just he always seem outnumbered my the rest of us in here"


162 935 10112

repost from elsewhere, an american "last post" thread on the recent uk riots

"...the repression only masks the unrest..." mentioned the goblin, adding "...simply ourdearmedia is doing its level best to divert our attention and calm us here, by just pinning all the blame on kids, or on mindless vandalism, and on the looting, pretending that if one first calms down that things will get better and all blow over now, but what becomes apparent by its not being mentioned anywhere that this becomes a new kind of threat to them, the internal terrorism perhaps, and that in order to fight it, yet more monitoring of you is needed, all for your security of course, for example your facebook page, where various little determining factors such as your radical views, your racial background, that broken family history, or single motherhood, being unemployed too, having islamic beliefs then, and umpteen other traits will collectively form an underlying profile of you against their loose cannon standard now, and where, if they haven't already started compiling this database yet, you can bet your bottom dollar that they will start doing so now..."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3v0_d3c6fNE&feature=player_embedded


162 936 10117

Dear Goblin,
My virtual memory is low. At least that is the profound message I get in a little incriminating box down by the date and time. I can almost hear a foot tapping.

I have gone to that memory spot and increased my minimum virtual memory. After a day, there is the little voice again.

I am in a flurry to delete and save my antique computer from it's demise. I have no idea what I am to delete, if I should delete, if my computer is possessed. . .

I backed it up. I hate this machine and love it at the same time.

Advice?

Love,
Betty

("...simply, I would take the computer to the geekstogo forum then..." replied the goblin knowing that they would love to see and mend it, and that the goblin's advice would be so out dated by now seeing that he was on linux opperating system, saying "...I haven't mended window's based machines in years, and certainly there's absolutely no need to dump the machine for another, you just need to see what's wrong with them then, where it won't cost you anything to do so, it's free now, simply google geekstogo following their advice alone...")

repost from elsewhere

"...yes, I love that picture too xxxxx..." replied the goblin who had missed the post till now, saying "...well, one doesn't see many old people in the cinema, I guess they're pacing their money out, something which I too am increasing learning to my cost, so here's a link that might help you then...", as the goblin put up the link suspecting that it might not work in other countries, "...so now, for our date then, how about the seaside, a gentle wind, the smell of salt, the hails of seagulls, a english beach on a sunny day, with a little transistor radio that plays radio caroline's latest pop music, a towel that covers the bumps of shale as one lies down thinking that there's still hours ahead to read one's paperback without a care in the world beyond the need to know who killed the victim to see if one's guess was right after all...", yes, those dates weren't much then but it was everything at the time where the goblin would be there waiting now


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Dear Goblin,
Thank you for the excellent advice concerning my antique machine.

I love that vision of the English beach on a summer day, the reading of the mystery, the sea gulls.

I imagine that sea gulls are universally the same. They may speak different languages each to each, but are all in the same quest of little fishes or left over potato chips.

Merry Christmas to you and your family. You are a light in the midst of darkness.

Love,
Betty

(the goblin liked the vampire's music and thanked betty for thanking him too, saying "...it goes well for me, my goal of becoming anonymously known on forumland is a growing reality now, and where too, my inbox seems like a christmas tree with unopened notifications below it, yes I was never in this for personal fame and fortune, but my mind is fueled by the input of others so in that respect alone I have what I wanted...")

repost from elsewhere, the random thoughts page

"...me, I'm thinking on empty now..." went the goblin, sitting in the silence of the public library, where around him the obsolete references books sat neatly stacked upon upon their shelves like so many vultures perched there to witness those who used the WIFI now, whereupon the goblin looked once more across the room to reconfirm his conjecture that not one book was being read now, some notes taken on paper perhaps, but not an open book in sight, so the goblin just sighed "...and who would have me write a book in all this then, surely if forumland is where the readership is then I must write within my posts instead, and just be grateful that people is still reading posts at least..."



163

Dear Goblin,
Thought converted to word that is read. Not the ultimate connection, because of the mind's eye of the reader; but as close as one ever gets to telepathic communication.

Words. No matter the language, words connect the lonely mind to the rest of humanity.

I wish that we had the ability to understand the animals. Then, we would be something, for sure.

Love,
Betty

("...interesting concept and conclusion there..." replied the goblin again not knowing if he wished his every thought to be understood by others, adding "...one can't help one's thoughts...")

repost from elsewhere

the next day of many perhaps, and the goblin sits alone with his thoughts again, saying "...funny how we share this living then, where we all expect the young to outlive the old, the well to outlive the frail, etc., but isn't the truth of the matter that "no one has any more life than anyone else does", just we share this moment of now together where the next moment it could well be different...", outside, the wet dreary rooftops under the gray cloudy evening sky seemed to remind the goblin that so much in this life is built upon the mere assumption of certainty where in the end there is only one certainty that awaits


163

repost from elsewhere

"...ah, but what has happened before is likely to happen again..." replied the goblin now, enjoying the replies now, adding "...though first you need to see that the money within the financial system is only initially created by those printing presses, where the rest is created by the bank in their lending, where each bank is allowed to lend out 15 dollars to any one dollar it holds as its reserve, but then once that loan is made out, the resulting money is invariably redeposited to another bank thus allowing that bank to lend 15 times its worth again, thus debts upon debts we are all sold a system that cannot sustain itself indefinitely, so their trick is to then speculate with commercial bank deposits, our personal savings that is, simply because those are the only bonds backed by the government when they eventually turn to junk...", just that the goblin's mind was on student loan bonds now, where one in five american students are in default, but where the real question was where the leverage for that bond came from, for it would be interesting to find out if they had actually been underwritten with personal bank deposits again


163 944 10161

("...keep them coming then..." went the goblin knowing that something the vampire offered would please him)

repost from elsewhere, the "random thoughts" thread

"...in the end roman empire was unable to square its circle, simply military authority took over from the senate giving way first to the dictators then the emperors..." mentioned the goblin, continuing "...that is, until the marian reforms came about, there was no standing army and the soldier came from the landed class, not the landless class here, however, what with the demise of the small farm holders, the recruiting pool became too small for it to function, hence the new idea of conscripting form the landless class soldiers that would serve their general 15 to 20 years where those soldier's loyalty was first to their general now, and where history was then to see many a general cross the rubicon as a result...", no, in fact, the reason why the goblin was thinking this at this point was that president eisenhower, in his parting address in 1961, warned america against the onward encroachment of the industrial military complex, and yet today when one looks both at america's budget and its agenda, one sees exactly what he warned the electorate of back then, that same growing circle that seems ever more unsquareable now


163

repost from elsewhere

Quote :

Unlike some heartless folks on this forum I intend to give my Mom a free copy of my book..signed.

alas, being anonymous, the goblin couldn't give his mother a signed copy of any of his posts now, not that that really mattered though, after all she might just be reading this from up there now, or even form over the goblin's shoulder perhaps, "...mum, I sprinkled your ashes into the sea some years back, took this photo, and then drew a line through our past together vowing never to return there, so I don't want you to becomes a ghost that returns here now, any more than you would wish me to be someone who clings to our past either, so remember me then, but really your thoughts should be upon your future still, and me upon mine, yet we'll meet again, promise..." smiled the goblin in a passing thought of how long is not long just like martin luther king had once put it


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Dear Vampireheart,
I wanted to wish you the best of Christmas. I see you sparkle there, a diamond.

Love,
Betty