write something nonsensical, surreal, silly. (3)

[afishamongmany]

"I mostly write about the murder of my daughter last year which has been devastating to my life and I'm trying to heal through it....Faith"

Great woe, heavy heavy blow, deep pain, the bystander stands by and bows.
Heal heal heal, though never the same.

 

[FredVB]

"Yahweh isn't telling you all these things you might do, because he doesn't think he needs to tell you all of such. There are these and more things that are better that you can come up with, than what Yahweh says for you, so you can freely choose to do any of those things." The great larva with that conclusion said in as soft and persuasive a tone as possible watched Mother and Father of the lanternflies for their response with acceptance and with appearance of being enlightened possible with that.

"No, we should observe what Yahweh has said, and not compromise any of it," Mother said, after not much of a pause.

Father of the lanternflies leaned forward, and said, "We will not listen to any of this any further. Go, be gone from us, now."

The structure with the remaining creatures came to another world, different from previous ones, with a rocky and uneven surface, having leafy trees with fruit widely spaced apart, and great holes and gaps were seen in many places in the ground. A small river was seen flowing nearby, and small insects that appeared to be butterflies and bees were seen flying in places.

"Come," Yahweh said now, calling the two bigfootbats, and the two monster bats, to come forth. Then with giving these chiropteran creatures their requirements with the promise, Yahweh sent them out to this world just right for them, and they were seen further near trees flying about them looking at them. But the structure with those remaining now moved on.

 

[fleamailman]

repost from elsewhere, the "blurt here" thread

what with flickering christmas lights in the street below the goblin's once lively day had at this point slipped quietly into its dark evening counterpart, while the room itself had a feint homely sent of cinnamon and orange to it, and all to a reassuring clock that boyishly drumbeated those aimless seconds with an unnecessary fervour to no purpose though, "...isn't it really good to be still alive goblin, another year done, and where none of any of this was ever ours to hold on to now, so we've got through this year to here still, I guess we must be winners by that default alone, so you should count your blessings more goblin, for nothing is owed to us, least of all our future, enjoy today I say..." voiced the slot as the goblin taped away his thoughts upon the slot's white teeth once more, then the goblin smile grew wide at the thought, so the slot just continued "...do you think I haven't noticed how purposefully the old man placed objects around the room for those ghosts of association therein...", the goblin's smile growing wider still as if being caught out so to speak, confiding "...well slot, that is just the old man's hangup I guess, they're the ghosts he doesn't mention to others for fear of looking stupidly sentimental as like someone way passed his sale by date then, you see he grows old where you and I can't grow old...", the slot then noticed each ghost standing beside its object now, just as the goblin could see them too, before venturing "...I mean goblin shouldn't he be letting them go instead...", "...he doesn't know how to let them go slot, there all he has, he only knows how to hide them from others still..." replied the goblin letting the slot swallow the post down if it could really

 

[brinny]

 

[fleamailman]

repost from elsewhere, someone announcing their birthday

the goblin felt somewhat envious at this point because he had mislaid his birthday somewhere some point before, saying "...tell you what though, if you can take a little out time why not make a mental note of those birthdays presents you received to date, just that which you got from whomever whenever, then see if you feel inside whether you still want to say thank you to them even now, where if you do, then say "thank you" under your breath perhaps and I promise you they'll hear it, more I cannot offer really for more there is not..."

 

[fleamailman]

repost from elsewhere

"...mostly most folks worry about their own personal problems simply because they don't know nor care whether this middleeast war is going to turn into that real thing next, where it's a bit like pondering about one's afterlife too, simply it has no barring upon one's present, why, because one isn't dead yet, so understandably one busies oneself with whatever personal problems one has instead..." observed the goblin typing this from the bus terminal still, and not going home till he understood what exactly he meant to say or not say when he did, restarting "...and then suddenly as the media announces somewhat piecemeal the escalation of the situation form two weeks ago into last week situation, and then in turn last week's situation escalation even more into today's situation too, one realizes that they're gently playing catchup with one, and somehow one knows deep down too that it's just not the time for those personal problems tonight, it's time to tell both family and friends of your support and love should anything untoward happen, where if I'd had been wrong in this conjecture then I'd accept looking like some over caring old fool by it, but where if I had been right then at least they would have reached some understanding of it between us...", but the hours passed in the bus terminal and still the goblin couldn't go home really, no not until he knew what to say and what not to say, sighing "...ours is to witness then, where it's for real isn't it...", finally the laptop's battery called "time", just the christmas lights would form an odd backdrop to a goblin walking his bicycle home in no haste it seems

176

 

[brinny]

 

[fleamailman]

repost from elsewhere

"...what life I have left I love so much at this point, where I guess we should all treasure life a little more then, but where in its seemingly endless continuation we get so sidetracked into these sub plots of our own ambition..." went the goblin remembering back now, how in the height of the hot summer's drought he had cycled over fernworthy bridge as a youth doubting that this dried up reservoir bed would ever let him do that again in his lifetime, smiling "...just never go back they say, thus guess I'll never return to england neither then, for one can't recreate one's past in one's present, instead one can only spoil one's recollection of it in the attempt, just water over the bridge today..."

 

[fleamailman]

repost from elsewhere

"...you're good..." went the goblin liking both previous posts, but where he himself was ill at ease now, suspecting too that things in the middle east would get worse still, why, because this "the great game" as we know it is far from over and that neither west nor east could possibly back down at this point, instead they could only build it up, and then it only needed one misinterpretation somewhere and what had been a proxy war to date would become all too real, whereupon the goblin sighed "...like out of the battle of camlann isn't it, where the serpent is isis then, and where the serpent starts off the last war by getting itself killed...", "...transitions of empire are always steeped in blood goblin, nothing new about that now..." voiced the slot back at him as the goblin then counted the empires upon his elongated fingers, before voicing "...ours is to witness slot, so either look on now or look away then, yet somehow our lives have come to this point where there are no winners in this, only witnesses as it were, there to give witness to human folly...", "...ah, but you knew I was snake goblin so what did you expect from me..." went a rye cold voice beyond them somewhere in that unfolding darkness still

176

 

[fleamailman]

"...well twins, it took some reading but you write well, it made sense too, and I like it now..." went the goblin now sitting in his bistro accompanying the old man because the old man found the bistro somewhat warmer than the captain's permitted 23c at home, relating "...no old folks like him need warmth, it's not that they're cold, more it's that some part of them that feels naggingly cold, usually the extremities but in his case it's those headaches then...", where it hadn't escaped the goblin's attention at this point that the old man there was the only one who kept had his coat on, joking "...if it goes on like this I bet he'll start typing with his mittens on too...", while outside the cold wet street was probably no warmer then 23c neither, where the goblin just went "...no I've stopped worrying about life after death, no it's more a question of whether there's life before death today though to be quite honest I seriously have my doubts upon that score too..."

 

[fleamailman]

repost from elsewhere, still chatting with the twins

"...well there is life before death I suppose only that it's ever more constrained as one grows older..." ventured the goblin returned home and about to hop into the hot bath too, saying "...no can't put my finger on it really, but the old man in his dailylife lives a quiet life now, and although not exactly shunned per say, according to him it's more "respectfully treated as an old person would be", and from there grows the gap, that gap of correctness, of silence, of sobriety too, and of that role there of "being old behind the mask" because the mask was old...", but in truth the goblin wasn't the old man any more than that old man was a goblin now, no they were just masks of some alter-ego behind them both, smiling "...he lives in that dailylife there, whereas me I live on this internet here...", it was as if the inner world formed while the outer one crumbled away then, where if one didn't form that inner world then one would rightly only end up with that which crumbled away then, "...their fate is well deserved goblin they had their whole lives to turn inwards, instead they chased passing externals..." smiled the muse extending her hand for her dues here

 

[afishamongmany]

Yea, growing old, oldness, inner life, outer life. One should fight against the dying light but not foolishly. Trying to give what light one has and receiving by faith faithfully the given light.
Healthy harmony between inner and outer is the name of the game. But easier said than done and of course it's much more than a game.
Go well
><>

 

[fleamailman]

("...ah yes I like that reply..." went the goblin, adding "...all good things in moderation I guess but my mind is going real chrismashy now...", where oddly the goblin liked the sobriety of boxing day)

repost from elsewhere, chatting with a ghost persona

"...well I'm friendly enough, and if you wish to keep me company I'll be more than happy to accommodate you here..." went the bookless goblin who then produced a table with some chairs for them before placing a lone candle upon it knowing how ghosts do like their candles now, then explaining "...at it's simplest then, those around me upon forums are personas, where the persona is a mask of an alter ego behind it, yet those within me are my "ghosts of the past" as it were, where often I am more writing for my ghosts, who you would say are not real perhaps, than I am for the personas who arguable are real for their being the posters here, why, because I know my ghosts and have to live with them daily whereas the persona I don't know for all their claims...", the goblin rubbed his chin between his forefinger and his thumb, restarting "...so writing is often just dealing with one's ghosts I guess, something quite removed from that publishing world with its merchantization of what is if truth be told little more than grave digging here, yes writing is grave digging in its way, and the more one digs up one's past the more those ghosts just stick around and solidify by it...", at which point the goblin felt like asking if the candle was to the ghost's liking, smiling "...continue in third if you like, use first person if you prefer though, it just needs continuity throughout as the reader remembers that which is constant, ah yes, "livewriting has no rules" as they say but it does seem to have its lessons..."

177

 

[fleamailman]

("...just because I've posted this one before doesn't mean that everyone here has seen it, so here it is again..." smiled the goblin hoping it would please)

repost from elsewhere

it's that time of year, so the goblin has been thinking about christmas again, and how in this modern age it just didn't politically correct anymore, where non-christians think it is too christian, and where christians thought it as too pagan now, no what the goblin wanted to offer here something else, something new in fact, "...well folks, it's time for the all new "politically correct" name-change then..." ventured the goblin "...so what we need is something historical to celebrate in its place that is both secular and well known..." the goblin continued "...well how about celebrating the discovery on the new world by christopher columbus in 1492...", in fact, the goblin had only suggested this, imagining that there were probably some people in america who might be aware of it, explaining "...all rather simple, we take the his name and shorten it, "chis" of christopher and "bus" of columbus...", and with that the felt he had done his good deed of the day and now only wanted to be the first to say on this thread "...merry chrisbus one and all..."

2

 

[afishamongmany]

("...ah yes I like that reply..." went the goblin, adding "...all good things in moderation I guess but my mind is going real chrismashy now...", where oddly the goblin liked the sobriety of boxing day)

repost from elsewhere, chatting with a ghost persona

"...well I'm friendly enough, and if you wish to keep me company I'll be more than happy to accommodate you here..." went the bookless goblin who then produced a table with some chairs for them before placing a lone candle upon it knowing how ghosts do like their candles now, then explaining "...at it's simplest then, those around me upon forums are personas, where the persona is a mask of an alter ego behind it, yet those within me are my "ghosts of the past" as it were, where often I am more writing for my ghosts, who you would say are not real perhaps, than I am for the personas who arguable are real for their being the posters here, why, because I know my ghosts and have to live with them daily whereas the persona I don't know for all their claims...", the goblin rubbed his chin between his forefinger and his thumb, restarting "...so writing is often just dealing with one's ghosts I guess, something quite removed from that publishing world with its merchantization of what is if truth be told little more than grave digging here, yes writing is grave digging in its way, and the more one digs up one's past the more those ghosts just stick around and solidify by it...", at which point the goblin felt like asking if the candle was to the ghost's liking, smiling "...continue in third if you like, use first person if you prefer though, it just needs continuity throughout as the reader remembers that which is constant, ah yes, "livewriting has no rules" as they say but it does seem to have its lessons..."

177

The fish gave the goblin a quizzical look. He had come across him more than once sitting pensively at the edge of the pond haphazardly throwing handfuls of words into the water. The fish liked words they could be so, sow, sew enjoyable but one had to be careful. Many a fish has been netted in a weave of words or heaved high and dry by a hidden hook.
This world that they shared, a fish, a goblin so strange. Personas are preferable to ghosts (past, present or awaiting) thought fish but still unsatisfactory. There is a deep deep need for some body and personas have no body. That is the limitation of this pond and it's surrounds. But the creatures still congregate and plunge in. Its attraction? It is, well, unlimited.
Personas have their avatars, their signatures, their anonymity, their wooooordssssss. Are we wearing masks? Do we have more than one ego? Ah Dr Freud I presume. You still cast your shadows O austrian ghost.
So the fish saw that night had fallen, it was time to leave this stream of consciousness (or maybe more a puddle squeezed out) and head back to the big pond for slumber and sunrise.
Happy chrisbus to goblin and all passing personas!

 

[fleamailman]

(oddly, it seemed the very moment when some company had finally turned up here was the moment too that the goblin himself had been caught unawares by flew virus that was of no consequence whatsoever, and by a new side effect that seemed most dire by comparison, smiling "...the old man lives in limbo now, yes sometimes one just needs to be reminded that one's life won't continue forever, like telling us to stop living in some "saving for the rainy day" habit for actually living "for the moment" too...", whereupon the goblin, just restarted by saying "...you write well, and I'm looking forward to your next though...")

 

[fleamailman]

repost from elsewhere

"...you're doing fine, you're growing by this, where part of this practice is to become "selfish", why, because you won't live this life a second time, thus your choice turns out to be either writing as yourself or falling back into that which those around you expect, me too, I'm one of those around you now where I suspect that only through your selfishness you will grow into a known livewriter, or you will give up beforehand, that choice is yours though, where my place is not to choose for you..." related the goblin now, adding "...of course you have doubts but against that you are anonymous too, learn to be selfish then, you owe it to yourself not be swayed by others here, I think of you as good company and although I perfectly capable of writing alone here I actually prefer to write in the company of others now...", smiling "...livewriting is like painting, perhaps you'll become a painter now, no the question is whether you are going to leave a trail of paintings behind you, right up till your last painting, or whether you're going to listen to your doubts instead and either paint nothing or just paint that which is expected of you instead, same nothing isn't it, I mean you don't live twice so does if really matter how you are received anyway, after all van gogh was selfish, so was mozart too, yet they both died utterly rejected in their selfishness..."

 

[brinny]

(oddly, it seemed the very moment when some company had finally turned up here was the moment too that the goblin himself had been caught unawares by flew virus that was of no consequence whatsoever, and by a new side effect that seemed most dire by comparison, smiling "...the old man lives in limbo now, yes sometimes one just needs to be reminded that one's life won't continue forever, like telling us to stop living in some "saving for the rainy day" habit for actually living "for the moment" too...", whereupon the goblin, just restarted by saying "...you write well, and I'm looking forward to your next though...")

I'm sorry to hear that, my friend.

 

[brinny]

...gotta go....

my teapot is screaming at me.....

 

[fleamailman]

("...yes I've been told to take in more water, so it's tea for me too..." went the goblin thanking brinny though, before adding "...I'm feeling much better now...")

repost from elsewhere, continuation of previous, chatting with the twins

- * what if we have so many paintings like stars in the night sky *- thought the twins in unison. - * have you considered mister flea that we really don't know where to begin or which direction to venture, not through scant imagination but infinite possibilities that jostle for position, this story unfolding on the shore of our consciousness could go in 200 different directions - it overwhelms us * - they skip off into the darkness with mister fleas lamp kicking the pudding between them, he can eat it next year, all tied up in hessian, it will taste better that way. Looping back around the hut the pair think - * we are glad you are stronger now, thanks goes to brr's broth! * -

"...daunting odds agreed but you're not going to know yourself till you go up against those odds there..." ventured the goblin to the twins, then adding "...posts are like sketches in their way, and off course real artists want to do paintings instead, only that most folks these days won't go into their galleries for the lack of any interaction therein, I mean most paintings, in this analogy here, are hundreds of pages long and is one ever going to come across an author, or publisher for that matter, who will admit that their book leaves much to be desired...", the fog had kept the day in check where normally the placement of the sun would tell the goblin roughly the hour of day, though today no, instead the goblin had looked at the screen and seen 09h30 knowing it didn't matter, smiling "...I'm on holiday convalescence then, a kind of concession to my health to do nothing whatsoever for a couple of days, where I may not write anything by it but more likely I will write something if only to think through these current events ranging from those personal ones of late on up to worldwide ones of next year, no they say "curiosity kills the cat" where hopefully my autopsy will read "death by some insatiable curiosity" then..."