write something nonsensical, surreal, silly.

[fleamailman]

repost from elsewhere

and with that goblin felt he was amongst friends now, saying "...I will go slowly on your forum humans, it's just that always try to make my posts somewhat inconspicuous, drab, and above all without the slightest intention of seeming to come across as utterly attention seeking in some way...", and with that the lie detector exploded, whereupon the goblin just added "...well yes, it's just that to date, I've have not been very good at it..."

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[fleamailman]

("...thanks for reading my posts and sharing your own with me..." went the goblin who asked for nothing other than that then, adding "...no sales ploy, nor link to elsewhere either, just some posts that we can share between us here, so keep me company now and together we can stroll down this thread in posts a plenty...")

repost from elsewhere

the goblin liked the rain in summer, those showers that burst out and fell with all its pent up frustration and vengeance to whip cracks of thunder and sudden shocks of lightning, where each droplet just bounced off the surface in a drum-call of excitement, saying "...ah yes, I always find myself admiring this type of rain then, a rain that one would least like to be under too, like a dark girlfriend perhaps, one who's entirely wrong for one's quaint little world but still so unforgettably alluring in her wildness that one feels ever drawn to her...", and how the topic brought back a ghost of a girlfriend past now, where sometimes the goblin just hated his own heart so much, saying "...perhaps I see now that I should have followed my heart over the cliff with her and let us fall from grace together instead..."

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[brinny]

repost from elsewhere

and with that goblin felt he was amongst friends now, saying "...I will go slowly on your forum humans, it's just that always try to make my posts somewhat inconspicuous, drab, and above all without the slightest intention of seeming to come across as utterly attention seeking in some way...", and with that the lie detector exploded, whereupon the goblin just added "...well yes, it's just that to date, I've have not been very good at it..."

106

your humor has many layers to it and maybe, let's see, irony? Somehow Shakespeare-ian comes to mind and isn't that "House"?

 

[brinny]

i'm weird....i contemplate sometimes......'tis always good to see you posting my friend

 

[fleamailman]

repost from elsewhere

the goblin showed up after a while it seems, saying "...I was a real man of action once, where today that sexual-contract seems to have both consequences and obligations that I can no longer afford of myself now, no not that I don't still recognize their beauty still, those curves of form, and my physical actraction towards them too, just that I value my independence more than I did back then...", in fact, the goblin was married but something inside him knew that if it were otherwise, he would not sign that sexual-contract again

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[Girder of Loins]

If I were a woman, I would marry you fleamailman, simply because of your wit.

 

[fleamailman]

("...thanks..." replied the goblin, adding "...I like it when you post, just keep me company then, we can journey down this thread together if you like...")

repost from elsewhere, the goblin on a woman's interest "last post" thread, paying his respects

the goblin just filled in a bit, knowing that he'd have to keep his voice down to do this here, saying "....you see, on forumland you'll meet many strange and wonderful creatures, but perhaps none quite so terrifying perhaps as those raiders of the lost depart, yes, "housewives of the third age from women's interest forums"...", the goblin quickly looked over his shoulder to make quite sure he hadn't been observed at this point but then continued "...no, they're just everywhere and one false move now, one miss placed word even, and they'll just descend with a barrage of posts without mercy...", in fact, the goblin had learned to show respect to them at every juncture, indeed they could be very persuasive and always seemed in the majority, then suddenly the alarm rang out, that dreaded slim witman music blared forth, as the goblin hit the post button and slipped back into the darkness in the nick of time

protect yourself, recognized the warning signs, this has been a public service anouncement

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[fleamailman]

repost from elsewhere

the goblin was thinking about someone else's post on domestic violence now, and just how nonviolent his own family seemed to be compared to it, and how too, violence just equated to yet another type of unfaithfulness towards one's partner, where once it happens the trust is betrayed, and where the alcohol too often acts as some linchpin to whatever anger lies within...", in fact, the goblin just understood that the victim had to leave from that point, even if there was nowhere else for else to go, if simply because he is not in control of himself and only a fool would believe otherwise and stick around to be victimized

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[brinny]

repost from elsewhere

the goblin was thinking about someone else's post on domestic violence now, and just how nonviolent his own family seemed to be compared to it, and how too, violence just equated to yet another type of unfaithfulness towards one's partner, where once it happens the trust is betrayed, and where the alcohol too often acts as some linchpin to whatever anger lies within...", in fact, the goblin just understood that the victim had to leave from that point, even if there was nowhere else for else to go, if simply because he is not in control of himself and only a fool would believe otherwise and stick around to be victimized

111

come now my friend, you merely scratched the surface a bit here.....for there are layers and depths and insights begging to be told. For they seldom are. At least not with any accuracy, although the use of the word "unfaithfulness" is indicative of a depth of understanding into the maze-like intricacies of the hellish dilemma. it's a mind game of the worst kind and meant to be so, and is put into place way before any sign of treachery of the physical variety rears its ugly head. Yes, it's coined as "domestic violence" however i think of it more as a pre-meditated, systematic bullying of body, mind, and spirit with the intent to destroy the target piece-by-piece-by piece as she sinks into a prisoner-of-war-like quasi-consciousness of denial that contributes to her own demise, and the mission is accomplished as she becomes her own accuser.

 

[fleamailman]

("...don't lose that post brinny, you need to hew it with a picture perhaps, but that's definitely a beautiful post in itself..." mentioned the goblin, adding "...all very simple, I feed you, you feed the slot and around it goes...")

repost from elsewhere, a american "last post" thread

slot in the next room starts playing the piano, "...you must remember this, a kiss is but a kiss, a sigh is but..., ..." the goblin rushes in "slot, I thought I told you never to...", "...hello goblin..." she interrupts him, amazed, moved, he looks at her until he could say "...hay kid, of all the "last posts" threads on forumland and would you have to chose mine...", brinny flicks her hair back, smiles and says softly "...goblin.." she paused and then restarted "... goblin I really need your help this time, you see somehow I want to get my grocery cart back, just I feel that I can't live another day without one now..."

10

 

[fleamailman]

repost from elsewhere, and a moment in the past now

on a day slightly different from others, the sun almost burns ones back from its brightness, and yet, the passing view from this village minibus is of a winter's cold frost here, where the goblin too, calmly holds on his lap his workday rucksack containing the plastic urn of what was his mother, and where the feeling is serene enough, surreal in its oddness even, with that same old slideshow of passing scenery without coupled with memories from within, where together they idled away the goblin's time aimlessly enough, "...first exeter bus terminal, a quick snack, and then that long leg down to london, then finding some cheap undemanding hotel in an old haunt, and then..., ..." but the goblin broke off form wording it now as if knowing that it wasn't really like him to think things through beyond their planning side, besides, his expectations were ever well whatever happens happens then, continuing "...and tomorrow, it's on down to felixstowe, that beach, and her sea once more, well perhaps it'll be our sea till I sprinkle her into it, then it's just my beach and her sea after that I suppose, so "so long" mum, you were ever restless during your lifetime, so I guess there's no point in my uttering "rest in peace" now, but would "so long then" do as some passing line between us...", but the goblin never did know how long that "long" actually was, nor how long it would be either, where no doubt that sea would seem an ocean of tears at the time

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[fleamailman]

repost from elsewhere, on conforming one's writing for the profit-line

But is there a way to make profit with that approach, Flea? That is, if you care about profit.

"...well I suppose if I became superknown on forumland, then I imagine I could take it from there then in the same way others writers already have now..." replied the goblin lying through his teeth because he knew he would never step out of his anonymity here, simply his writing on forumland was divorced from dailylife, meaning no fame nor fortune on the one hand, but none of that "just write like everyone else please, get it right" compromise on the other, adding "...you see, isn't it enough to know oneself by what one posts then, or is anyone seriously asking me to sell myself short in some declining publishing world, only to be flavor of the month for a while...", in fact, the goblin already had a solid readership, but he would dump it all for a couple of interesting replies, concluding "..oh yes, interesting replies, now that's something worth writing for I believe, so that's my price now, think you can pay me humans, or am I asking too much of you..."

Spoiler

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ydXtCpYimN8

 

[brinny]

my mom's life reminds me of a scene in "Mary Reilly" in a surreal kind of way, as the main character, led down dusty cobwebbed stairs to a dark murky cellar, is led on to a closet or a box. As he opened it, stuffed inside in a grotesquely misshapen form that no one, alive or dead should be subjected to, was her mother. My mom was rescued from such a fate. She was very ill when she died and she suffered inexplicably during her life, however somewhere along the line, a curse was broken. she was not cast aside like refuse at the end, but gathered in the arms of grace, with hope that the tragedies during her life would no more plague her, and that she was loved in a way she had never known and even as she drew her last breath she knew something more was awaiting her that would dry every tear and heal each heart ache as she stepped into a place of life never ending where laughter and joy and child-like exuberance flowed from one heart to another like a river and where trees clapped their hands for joy and flowers sang in chorus and where there is One Who delights in us and rejoices over us with singing. And where my mother resides now, and where she is free, free at last.

The Little Match Girl - YouTube

 

[brinny]

repost from elsewhere, on conforming one's writing for the profit-line



"...well I suppose if I became superknown on forumland, then I imagine I could take it from there then in the same way others writers already have now..." replied the goblin lying through his teeth because he knew he would never step out of his anonymity here, simply his writing on forumland was divorced from dailylife, meaning no fame nor fortune on the one hand, but none of that "just write like everyone else please, get it right" compromise on the other, adding "...you see, isn't it enough to know oneself by what one posts then, or is anyone seriously asking me to sell myself short in some declining publishing world, only to be flavor of the month for a while...", in fact, the goblin already had a solid readership, but he would dump it all for a couple of interesting replies, concluding "..oh yes, interesting replies, now that's something worth writing for I believe, so that's my price now, think you can pay me humans, or am I asking too much of you..."

Spoiler

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ydXtCpYimN8

perhaps there's more to why you write than what you assume you write for, my friend....

 

[brinny]

writing.....it is to somehow share, isn't it? isn't it for all intents and purposes speaking? it's a conversation of sorts, a speaking but in a diff'rent form. Why would it be diff'rent than saying what one thinks in person as if speaking to a co-worker or that person over there waiting on a bus stop or the cashier or a friend, or family. The depth of it may change and the brevity, but it's still speaking, is it not? Conversations should be thus so, just pouring it all out mistakes n' all. Otherwise what good are they?

"Oh the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but pouring them all right out, just as they are -- chaff and grain together -- certain that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and with the breath of kindness blow the rest away." ~Dinah Mulock

 

[brinny]

i love fall.....i am especially thankful at night, for warmth, a roof over me head, and blankets and socks and not having to sleep under the stars, on concrete.

 

[fleamailman]

"...I love fall too..." replied the goblin loving the robustness of brinny posts, clearly the effort was paying off, whereupon the goblin just changed the subject, opening up, relating "...my daughter and I arrived today, tomorrow we attend dad's funeral, and then the next day we return home, my feelings about being here are very mixed indeed, in that is my daughter is as happy to be here loving each and every london moment as I am feeling its other extreme of me being weary of having stupid memories pop out of nowhere with each and every passing corner, no thanks, either I can't go back to enjoy them or they're just stuff I don't wish to remember, whichever then, it is more than just dad's funeral this time, feeling more like a foreclosure coupled with a retraction then a retreat from here...", anyway, he and his daughter had taken a hotel in bayswater, and had had a chinese meal together, before she went off to her friends while the goblin himself made a bee line to look upon that never changing statue of peter pan in hyde park for continuity's sake perhaps, and now he was here in earl's court internet cafe for some hours upon forumland to give full sway to his present somewhat jittery alter ego. saying "...so sorry if this post comes across as somewhat odd or out of character, it just that being in london is so like being on some unstoppable ghost-train in the funfair where my emotions are pretty frayed to begin with as I come to new terms with my loss, either way then that raven of death has to clear away what now remains of this day where I must grow by it, for in one's defeat one mustn't lose the lessen taught by it..."

xxxx

 

[fleamailman]

("...since you like autumn then..." went the goblin)

repost from elsewhere

the goblin was thinking about how the sky darkens early this time of year, with a wind who, like autumn's acrobat, simply sweeps up and gyrates that mosaic carpet beneath those trees that line both side the street in ever changing kaleidescope of patterns, and where the air smells as it did once, of damp foliage, in the dark inviting warmth and intensity of it then, "...in fact, it's the time of year I love most then..." started the goblin continuing "...where, as a child, I kicked through these leaves that I so carefully walk over now, and where that drifting smell of burnt chestnuts from somewhere, or that real worry, of how dr who really could save our world from the invading daleks this time, seemed so much more pressing than any sudden shooting of a president or some far away war that barely registered on my little young radar...", other thoughts now, like fireworks in the garden, with dad playing the grand magician's role to a raging bonfire, surfaced, "...oh yes, all that was autumn in my childhood then, and this autumn too, carries me back there once more, a spell perhaps, or some mere association then, but at any rate, a vision as "real" to my eyes as "gone" to my touch, well what of it..." mused the goblin who simply saluted it once more in its annual passing..."

64

 

[brinny]

having never had a sane figure of a father i never understood the usefulness of them...at least it was a relief to not be trapped inside the locked down fortress of a mind gone mad with no place to hide. i was told he was an alcoholic and a psychotic one at that. i don't remember much....except for a vague memory of him lining us up, he with a gun or was it a rifle, and vowing to blast all seven of us to kingdom come. i was too small to remember much more...and later on in a place of refuge some of us were taken was the stand-in father, and although no guns were in sight, was plagued with lapses of sanity best to be avoided. And avoid such notions of a father i did....it wasn't till much later that i contemplated on a definition of father that was quite diff'rent from mine. Curiosity piqued i investigated, but at a distance.....this father embodied love, of the likes i had never heard of or seen in action. He loved sacrificially and He didn't hate the bumbles and failings of His children or their very existence. it was then that i knew what father meant. I asked Him to become mine. And He did. He moved in lock stock and barrel and opened shut-up-tight tomb-like recesses in my heart, mind, and soul, and flooded me with His grace, love, healing, and mercy to overflowing, spilling over onto those who had trampled on me, leaving me for dead. My vision was clear for the first time. My biological father never asked for forgiveness. he was unable to. i realized then that i had been given a key to unlock whatever bound him. The key was forgiveness. And it was in forgiving my father that entire generations were set free from the darkness that had laid claim to them. For it is forgiveness that gives a death-blow to chains of hopelessness, defeat, and despair and brings light that pierces the darkness.

 

[fleamailman]

(and with that the goblin returned to hear more then, adding "...often my talent, if any that is, is not actually what I write, but more how I listen instead, oh yes I'm very good listening now, and oddly you too know when you've voiced something that needed saying then, and later you'll touch upon this subject again yet when you do you'll exact it further, so writing to the slot anonymously is like looking into the flames, that's all...")

repost from elsewhere

Hey, fleamailman, I have a question for you. How much time did you invest in this thread?

"...very little..." replied the goblin, explaining "...the reposts are simply air/edit/backup now, where each time I repost something it gets feedback, while I get to edit it too, and where it becomes a backup should something happen to the original...", yet nothing actually mattered by it, in that he was anonymous and had been banned and so many times with his threads/posts had been erased too, that he had arrived at an understanding now, a madness perhaps, that it was not so much what resulted form posting as gaining the ability to do post in itself that counted, saying "...think of this as the reader seeing the footprints of a creature that only the author sees, the author writes hoping that his pen will capture the contour of the creature knowing that the creature is never really caught by it, just it's that practice of capturing that the author is trying to strengthen within himself each time...", and that was all it was then yet the creature within was wondrous beyond description

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