write something nonsensical, surreal, silly.

[brinny]

("...I love your posts Forge3, you really have talent..." went the goblin)

repost from the goblin's blog

cold-spell casts geneva to fog, its gray somehow blurring into the blank and becoming an appropriate backdrop to this then: the goblin's D-day with the dentist, well not really, it's that first year dental student "... hi there, call me benny hill, please sit down, comfortable..." as he whips out a syringe with a smile and a style straight out Hitchcock's psycho shower scene "...now stay still, no need to clinch the chair tight like that, this will only take a moment...", smiles, looks puzzled, takes another look at the ex-ray, grasps the idea, nods his head, smiles again, stabs and injects "...there that wasn't too bad was it, now I am just going to clear out that cavity..." the goblin feels as if he is going very slowly up the highest roller coaster ride in his life, the student drills a bit, retracts to drill, makes golf swings in the air "...yes, like that I think, how am I doing..." the goblin dare not reply, he drills on "...rinse please mr. flea..." puts bibs and bobs the goblin's mouth, drills then whoops, out comes a small white gyrating object on the end of his drillhead "...whoops, sorry, we'll just put another cotton swab in then won't we...", but the goblin stupidly replies "... actually could we try a sandbag..." a joke which seems to earn him a gag they call a dig but is in fact an ancient chinese water-torture where goblins slowly drown in their own saliva while probably singing to themselves "...o come all yee spacemen...", ride over, the goblin returns to reality whatever that ever was

the dentist's face has a striking resemblance to Hannibal Lecter

 

[fleamailman]

repost from elsewhere, the goblin relating a dream then

last night the goblin's bed had been restless, it just seemed hours had passed before finally he had drowned into that otherworld again, finding himself standing in the sitting room vaguely recognising that it was still his parent's house now, albeit with minor alterations, where those two decrepit armchairs, the ones the goblin himself had burned in the garden for their strong smell of urine or sickly white wine that his mentally failing mum had spilt herself often enough on, were new again each placed with backs facing the two windows that combined to give a decent unchanged view of the wet autumn garden and its stone gravel driveway, whereupon a car could be heard now, that soft distinct crushing sound crescendoing nearer by the long moment till it stopped as usual in view revealing itself to be a normal aluminium type car, where dad must have been either driving or at least had met her outside if simply because when they came in together, she was supporting herself on his arm, like so many times before that is, save that he was longer supporting her weight here, no, here the action was more symbolic in perfect control perhaps, and she must have decent thirty years younger here, middleaged then, as they walked together to the further of the two chairs now, where the goblin's mother let go of her husband to to sit down normally, and to simply look around herself too as she often did, while wearing clothes that the goblin clearly knew to be those he had seen many years ago, though whether not allowed to speak or not wishing to now, instead she gently adjusted one of the two enormous bracelets letting the goblin note that each rectangular matchboxed sized set emerald had six pearls set impossibly within them, simply she was thinking again, whole again then, and with that the dream ended but the goblin had imagined, when he woke up in present, that perhaps she had returned to show her gratitude for spilling her ashes in sea last november, where then the goblin too, had said nothing then either, just sometimes silence says it all

 

[fleamailman]

from the goblin's dear all diary, 25th., November 1997

Dear all
The ticket still reads "Geneva-Bern Return" but the goblin didn't really want to go(while knowing he should protest the war) so he had said, "...hey, well I was too young for those Vietnam protest marches, in fact I've never protested in my life, sounds great(lying), but I'll go if you go...", the goblin's exit ploy based on the fact that surely she wouldn't leave her bookshop for it, the next scene is the two of them, together with some others, eating sandwiches heading towards Bern to protest bush's war now, and yes, once there the vast sea of protesters reassured the goblin of his stance, yet even all that heated emotion couldn't hide the freezing cold of the day so the goblin gave up, returned to the warmth of Bern's station where boarding the train homewards alone he slipped the ticket into his pocket and slept soundly; a week later she was dead and her bookshop ended with her. Today, so many years later, the ticket still conjures at her ghost who asks for nothing, "...it just like this then..." the ghost would say just as she had said so often when she was still there, and somehow she was always like that the goblin remembered.

sin.,flea

why I protested then, and why I won't conform either

 

[fleamailman]

("...I was PMed about the journey to self..." mentioned the goblin, adding "...in reply then...", as he post something upon it)

repost from elsewhere

the goblin wasn't so sure at this point, it was as if his very existence was a vortex of ever decreasing circles, diminished returns, and met expectations, no, not just for himself but for anyone who remained within its orbit, "...ah, that's your lot goblin, isn't that that dailylife you like to call it, and how you know it well by now goblin, don't you goblin, but that dailylife of yours is not the real point here, is it then..." whispered death out of the shadows somewhere, adding "...so you've lost your barrings in all this dailylife of yours goblin, well then you only have to think of me here to know where and what the real game is at this point...", to which death continued with those some old lines of his again, saying "...ah the rules, well then let me explain, simply it's like "hide and seek" with me, I close my eyes and count on, meanwhile you have to figure it out, as much as you possibly can, before I come for you, though the only thing is, and perhaps to make this game a little more interesting for us then, is that I don't actually tell you which number I'm counting to, nor what exactly you're supposed to find out here, while no doubt those two crooks of your distracting dailylife and that moneygod will try to waylay you to their own ends once more, in other words my friend, just think of this as a "last post" game for real goblin, and let's see how you fare with it now..."

61

 

[brinny]

from the goblin's dear all diary, 25th., November 1997

Dear all
The ticket still reads "Geneva-Bern Return" but the goblin didn't really want to go(while knowing he should protest the war) so he had said, "...hey, well I was too young for those Vietnam protest marches, in fact I've never protested in my life, sounds great(lying), but I'll go if you go...", the goblin's exit ploy based on the fact that surely she wouldn't leave her bookshop for it, the next scene is the two of them, together with some others, eating sandwiches heading towards Bern to protest bush's war now, and yes, once there the vast sea of protesters reassured the goblin of his stance, yet even all that heated emotion couldn't hide the freezing cold of the day so the goblin gave up, returned to the warmth of Bern's station where boarding the train homewards alone he slipped the ticket into his pocket and slept soundly; a week later she was dead and her bookshop ended with her. Today, so many years later, the ticket still conjures at her ghost who asks for nothing, "...it just like this then..." the ghost would say just as she had said so often when she was still there, and somehow she was always like that the goblin remembered.

sin.,flea

why I protested then, and why I won't conform either

wonders where the goblin's heart is in all this....cuz mine is breaking...

 

[brinny]

("...I was PMed about the journey to self..." mentioned the goblin, adding "...in reply then...", as he post something upon it)

repost from elsewhere

the goblin wasn't so sure at this point, it was as if his very existence was a vortex of ever decreasing circles, diminished returns, and met expectations, no, not just for himself but for anyone who remained within its orbit, "...ah, that's your lot goblin, isn't that that dailylife you like to call it, and how you know it well by now goblin, don't you goblin, but that dailylife of yours is not the real point here, is it then..." whispered death out of the shadows somewhere, adding "...so you've lost your barrings in all this dailylife of yours goblin, well then you only have to think of me here to know where and what the real game is at this point...", to which death continued with those some old lines of his again, saying "...ah the rules, well then let me explain, simply it's like "hide and seek" with me, I close my eyes and count on, meanwhile you have to figure it out, as much as you possibly can, before I come for you, though the only thing is, and perhaps to make this game a little more interesting for us then, is that I don't actually tell you which number I'm counting to, nor what exactly you're supposed to find out here, while no doubt those two crooks of your distracting dailylife and that moneygod will try to waylay you to their own ends once more, in other words my friend, just think of this as a "last post" game for real goblin, and let's see how you fare with it now..."

61

a forlorn raven and somber words.....enough to slap that silly grin right off a body's face

 

[fleamailman]

("...yes, we're getting too serious brinny..." replied the goblin, adding "...let me change the tone a bit then...")

repost from elsewhere, from a woman's interest site, the "What are your non-negotiables" thread

"...if I could dry her tears, and make her smile, and give hope where others can't or won't, and hold her gently in my arms and promise "forever" to her from the highest heights and upon whatever one holds dearly to in life, defying man, devil, and even god by it, and only for a moment too..." the goblin paused thinking on it, then concluded the obvious by saying "...I would have known love where all before and after that one promise then would seem empty now, yes, that is the woman I seek, the one who could yet call out that promise from within me, for what, or who else, could possibly matter bar that moment then..."

63

 

[brinny]

("...yes, we're getting too serious brinny..." replied the goblin, adding "...let me change the tone a bit then...")

repost from elsewhere, from a woman's interest site, the "What are your non-negotiables" thread

"...if I could dry her tears, and make her smile, and give hope where others can't or won't, and hold her gently in my arms and promise "forever" to her from the highest heights and upon whatever one holds dearly to in life, defying man, devil, and even god by it, and only for a moment too..." the goblin paused thinking on it, then concluded the obvious by saying "...I would have known love where all before and after that one promise then would seem empty now, yes, that is the woman I seek, the one who could yet call out that promise from within me, for what, or who else, could possibly matter bar that moment then..."

63

you are correct, sir goblin.....enough with seriousness....you have made yer point...the above is akin to a classically enhanced romance novel

 

[OneWithTime]

Sheep jump moon not know cow to come monkey so as me hit monkey monkey loves sheep dog of clam chowder babababababababababaabbabababa Obamination so politicians love oceanspray apple juice know better then me to from this insanity I LOVE CROCODILE MILK!

These words were revealed by the great prophet Wacko Doodle of the land of Insanitatia

 

[brinny]

yu fergot da cheeeeeze...i distinctly ordered it

 

[fleamailman]

repost from elsewhere

well, who could ever want for more

"...how odd..." replied the goblin, continuing "...didn't I hear that very same line form the witchdoctor recently, save he was putting it like, "well everyone always wants more, it's just that they forget that our capitalism is, more or less, cannibalism with its meat too finely chopped up for anyone to really notice who they are actually eating at this point"..."

66

 

[brinny]

repost from elsewhere



"...how odd..." replied the goblin, continuing "...didn't I hear that very same line form the witchdoctor recently, save he was putting it like, "well everyone always wants more, it's just that they forget that our capitalism is, more or less, cannibalism with its meat too finely chopped up for anyone to really notice who they are actually eating at this point"..."

66

a surreal form of cannibalistic gluttony, sir goblin?

your social statements are cloaked in layers of subtlety sir, escaping the notice of most....sleeping sickness is a tragic malady isn't it?

 

[OneWithTime]

repost from elsewhere



"...how odd..." replied the goblin, continuing "...didn't I hear that very same line form the witchdoctor recently, save he was putting it like, "well everyone always wants more, it's just that they forget that our capitalism is, more or less, cannibalism with its meat too finely chopped up for anyone to really notice who they are actually eating at this point"..."

66

SALVADOR DALI! OH I AM SO HAPPY NOW!
Dali may your insanity and immaculate artwork spring inspiration into the hearts of people across the universe.




I am having a Dali-attack.

YOU PEOPLE HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH I LOVE SALVADOR DALI!

His artwork is my idea of heaven. Nobody can understand it but me

 

[brinny]

the goblin wants to be by the seaside now, he wants to paddle the cold retreating surf just above those crashing waves looking for that ever elusive carnelian that shines with the reflected setting sunlight on his way homewards, somehow the goblin knew too that if he ever found that gem it would be a gift from the great sea herself to him alone, something worth far more than anything a jeweler could ever offer

got a picture for this?

 

[fleamailman]

("...they mostly have their picture already, just I couldn't post it before the 50th post..." replied the goblin, wondering if onewithtime would like this picture too)

repost from elsewhere

the goblin wants to be by the seaside now, he wants to paddle the cold retreating surf just above those crashing waves looking for that ever elusive carnelian that shines with the reflected setting sunlight on his way homewards, somehow the goblin knew too that if he ever found that gem it would be a gift from the great sea herself to him alone, something worth far more than anything a jeweler could ever offer

15

 

[fleamailman]

("...everything is food..." went the goblin, adding "...no, the question is which morsels are the digestible ones and which ones are the tasty...")

repost from elsewhere, new

Isn't there a difference between anonymity and having a "persona"?

"...perhaps then, the persona is the manifestation of that which differentiates our anonymity here between us, in other words a mask to recognise others around you and to have them recognise you too, where without a persona of course there would be no way of telling posters apart, so someone's persona consists of five things, username, avatar, writing style, content, and forum-affiliation..." replied the goblin, somewhat taxed but still loving the question though, continuing "...so this is an unprovable fiction now, our virtual reality between us then, where at least it's not our dailylives is it, where the only thing that is actually here are these anonymous words upon your screen so we each create a persona intentionally or otherwise...", in fact, the goblin wondered just how many posters ever thought about their persona in its total, let alone whether they took that persona seriously, and yet surely there was some reflection of self for the noting if one so cared to note it

 

[brinny]

This "typer" uses a "fer-real" alter-ego, and is the same in "forumland" as in fer-real life. The intent is, and always has been, to bring words of life, healing, and hope where there is none. The intent always has been to be a shiner of light in the darkest of places.

In that, there is no fiction.

 

[fleamailman]

"...just forumland is unto itself..." replied the goblin, explaining "...where certainly forumland is not one's dailylife now, forumland is just the sum total of all the forums on this internet, yet even so, clearly it's part of the virtual-reality here, where virtual-reality is fiction, everything here is utterly fictional...", in fact, the goblin often felt here the be the world of the personas then, adding "...so a persona is a mask, but what does it mask I wonder, that is the me I'm looking for now, where perhaps if I keep on posting, that masked me will reveal itself by the contours of posts, my alter ego by my posts then..."

 

[brinny]

are you sure you wanna find what yer lookin' for?

 

[fleamailman]

repost from elsewhere

the goblin was always anonymous, so really whether he was liked, hated, or whatever then, didn't matter to that goblin persona he always portrayed himself as, so he goblin explained it, saying "...sooner or later, I am just haunted by those three questions again, "so what have you actually written for all this posting then", "and what has one learned from the replies and comments too" and "well then, what have you seen of yourself from what you have posted"...”, pausing for a moment, the goblin went back into the kitchen to make another coffee, a dull workday morning was his unavoidable encroaching reality now, so the goblin's only escape could be to cast his mind elsewhere since his family depended on his continued surrender to this present situation, to this society, and just to this living too, even if all those were just compromises on their terms for their rewards, at least that much was unavoidably clear to him by now, "...ah but, as strange as it may sound, my mind up to a point has a choice of being "aware, unaware, here, or elsewhere", so, what if I could master this choice then as something against that all too mundane reality of mine, while also slowly producing a stored body of posts somewhere that thwarts those three haunting questions again, surely that would be reason enough to post here, wouldn't it now..." concluded the goblin as the clock just ushered him on towards society's bidding once more, as the goblin retorts to the clock "...lift anchor boson, rig the mind to elsewhere, and steady as she daydreams now..."

41