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write something nonsensical, surreal, silly.

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fleamailman

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("...lucky me for reading those poems..." went the goblin, hoping that others too would join in soon, saying "...nothing stopping anyone here from becoming known by their posts now, yet forumland is what you make of it over decades, where all you need to do is simply entice readers to your pen, with no fanfare, nor publishers, just constant practice and perserverance...", where at best the goblin would become a known unknown amongst the others here, smiling "...ah but you, unlike me, have no reason to love anonymity as I do...")

repost from elsewhere, another "last post" thread

does this thread have an expiration date?
"...well yes I suppose, because in all probability at some point one dies first..." replied the goblin, adding "...though till then it's optional whereas afterwards it's doubtful, though sadly, most forums too, seem to fold before these random threads do, I mean none of those bbs forums are around now, but people still play "last post" in some defiance to that dailylife perhaps, or just innate greed then..."

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fleamailman

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("...Forge3, nice wording but didn't get the last part of the line, is it a typo for I am alone..." asked the goblin)

repost from elsewhere

OK, my bad.... I think you mean like the Toltec recapitualtion ...tracking yourself ... trying to review an experience in a bit more detached manner with the related emotion now diffused with time
"...yes, I guess one could put it that way, in that the other post came about from the toltec idea of manipulation of dreams..." started the goblin, continuing "...which in turn is a short step from the manipulation of memories now, where simply one chooses to redo something in one's past, like buying a packet of sweets from the corner store, and then lets the memory choose itself, that is one sees and feels back for time, season, weather, etc., then one adds details like what one is wearing, how high is one from the ground, what am I buying, with what money, what sounds, smells, and so on...", and no, the goblin didn't do it to write better, he did it to strengthen the memories, adding "...there's a strange sense of smell that one often forgets looking back, the seaside smell, the funfair smell, even the classroom, etc., sounds too, yet most people never bother to check what they remember, I mean why should they as it serves no purpose in dailylife..."

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chaoticfirefly

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[brinny, this thread is amazing]

The cat perches himself on the fence, gazing out at the large field of grazing cattle and his tail twitches, as green eyes watch for its prey in the large grass. The cat has been stalking the mouse for weeks now, but has been unable to catch the mouse, for its hearing seems to be something akin to a dogs, but today, the cat vows, today I will catch the mouse. So, the cat leaps, claws out and instead of catching the mouse, oh no, the sleek black cat lands on an unfortunate cow.

"You are very bad at hunting, my dear cat," The cow remarks as the cat struggles to climb onto the cows back.

"Don't remind me," the cat yawns, pink tongue curling. "That dang mouse keeps getting away. I am doing as my mother had taught me, but it never seems to work outside, but inside, I can always catch the mouse."

"Perhaps it is the bell around your neck," The cow answers. "It scares them away."

The cat yawns yet again, "Maybe not now," purrs the cat, as he leaps off the cows and lands gracefully into the green grass and eyes up at the larger animal. "My servants back at my castle owe me some attention and it is about nap time for me."
 
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fleamailman

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("...welcome on board..." went the goblin seeing chaoticfirefly was here now, adding "...just a victorian journal then, and simply a way to change all that post and discard to date to a more rewarding post and polish instead here, where the secret is to store one's posts, me I do that by reposting them to other random type threads across forumland where many posters to do take forum readership seriously, but ask yourself something between the ebooks blogs and forums which is the one that is holding its own in views, where it does seem to be forums now...")

repost from elsewhere, goblin welcoming then

and with that the goblin showed, saying "...funny how life is built upon a mere assumption of certainty here, where the future was not promised and where one's past has slipped away, but a writer lives a shared life between his muse within and his dailylife without, in fact it's odd how anyone could ever wish to become a writer, I mean it's a practice of schizophrenia if ever there was one, where somewhere too, written in the small print on the label perhaps, it's just marked warning, that muse does not got back into her bottle, where the young would dream of fame and fortune here, and just receive a journey to self instead, although not exactly short changed by that though it isn't what they bargained for then...", whereupon the goblin just laughed, saying "...chaoticfirefly, you'll post with me awhile won't you, you have more talent than you give yourself credit for...", and with that the goblin was fed up with rolling out that same old red carpet each time, thinking perhaps that, what with the time of year, a white carpet was called for instead, even if the welcome was just the same by it, somehow it just seemed more natural now

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fleamailman

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repost from elsewhere

“...nah I don't want become a writer, nor an editor, nor a journalist, nor a poet then, nor an illustrator, nor any whatever whatsoever...” mentioned the goblin, breaking off to think about it bit more, and then adding “...ah no, instead of that, I just wish to post posts across forumland in the very way you see here now thus mixing all those aspects together by it...”, for the goblin could prove nothing now, yet the result was what one saw without dispute, adding “...yes, I could put on airs but you would still see me by my posts anyway, so what's the point of my being other than what you directly read of me now, so I am just posts upon your screen, that's all I am...”

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fleamailman

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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 the goblin was anonymous and had been banned and so many times with his threads/posts erased too, that he had reached an understanding now, a madness even, that it was not so much what resulted form posting as the gaining of the ability to do posts in themselves that counted, saying "...think of all this as the reader seeing only the written footprints of a creature that the author actually sees, the author writes hoping that his pen will capture the contour of the creature knowing that the creature is never quite caught by it, just that it's this practice of capturing that the author is trying to strengthen within himself each time...", and that was all it ever was then, yet that was so much too

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fleamailman

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repost from elsewhere

the goblin felt much better, his friends were still here, his ghosts too, "...little bits of things to write about and a full day to write them in..." he contemplated, in fact, the goblin still had much of his whole life's posting to write here, so he felt the score was about to change again, continuing "...it's always "what you are writing" that's winning here, not "what you have written"..." as an adventure started unfolding in his mind again

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Forge3

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God makes Saints of men this much I know
Even as He makes young flowers to grow.
We most look to Him and not ourselves
placing our pride upon the shelves

A Saint rejoices in his smallness in His Word
Even as his littleness magnifies the Lord.
He heals our brokeness as a Divine sealer
and brings riches from the wounded healer

Being a Saint is all about our hearts
Being open to the wisdom He imparts
He chooses not the strong but the weak
That we have nothing to boast when we speak.

We see our fultility until we learn humility.
We learn of blindness until we can see
I am but dust but He has chosen me
Making a giant out of a little flea
 
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fleamailman

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("...I like that one Forge3..." went the goblin)

repost from elsewhere

"...if you mix love and self esteem together, turning your partner into some sort of benchmark of self, then you deserve to feel inadequate since you selling yourself to the fashions of those someone elses that you'll never be..." said the goblin who had often felt used by someone in a relationship in exactly this way

sgfgsrg.gif

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fleamailman

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repost from elsewhere,

No, I will not disclose the forum name. It doesn't matter. I'm here to be anonymous and enjoy the company. Even yours, Flea. But since you asked, yes, I remember you very well. And, yes, we banned you. We drew all kinds of oblique rudeness from your posts, whether or not rudeness was intended. Also, when I researched your username and found it on nearly every forum on the planet, several of our members (myself included) decided you weren't a goblin but a troll. I guess we just weren't avant-garde enough to get it.
"...well, today I'm rather pleased you did too..." replied the goblin clearly recognising the writing style, adding "...admittedly both of you did your level best to thwart me there, where I lived under a shadow of what might happen to me or my posts and threads, just as it turned out then, yet it was this forum afterwards that then took me in, accepted me, and encouraged me further as long as I kept my act to the edit thread then...", at which point the goblin just smiled, saying "...btw just so you know for next time then, a troll has no readership and clings to the shirt-tails of those who do, me I wasn't allowed that edit thread on your forum, they were deleted without let up, because you had ideas as to what was or wasn't writing, or who was or wasn't a writer, and yes, I'm opinionated perhaps, but I dare anyone to find a malicious post of mine, and then his final ultimatum PM to conform to type or otherwise just freed me from caring even...", yet the goblin still held out the saucer of cream to the cat, saying "...so today I will be to you here that which you weren't to me back then, I will encourage you to write on this forum in any way that you feel does most justice to your posts, moreover, I will read that which you post in my direction too and befriend you where I can, so let's see if we can put that past behind us now...", and with that the goblin cast that old memory aside once more, knowing that the goblin's act was now established, the pace was most demanding, and those forum readers would be waiting for him elsewhere on this forum

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fleamailman

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repost from elsewhere, Jats is another livewriter, the trolls pictures in question are either of dead animals and excrement

hey look another wordsalad by esteemed forums poster "jats"
"...yes but Jats is going somewhere by editing his posts, so his readership here and elsewhere is on the ups, whereas you, well you're hurting your mind by posting those sordid pictures, slipping ever further back from whom you want to be too, reduced to finding depraved pictures while thinking perhaps that those around you might admire you for your trolls, do they, if so then why can't you get the hitcount on your own, no, this forum is doing you no favours here, it's stringing you along watching you hurt, sink and slip behind..." mentioned the goblin, adding "...you see, we have something to show for what we do, Jats did a post yesterday on xxxxx forum that made fifty hits straight off, if he posted it to his other forum where I'm banned it would have made hundred easily, and you xxxxx, well lets just say that all that you have is what you have shown us to date, sad isn't it or aren't you ready to admit it and change..."

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brinny

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Awwwwww flea, i'm so sorry you and Jats endure such ugliness. It's inexplicably caustic and indicates a sickness of sorts and it just gets me to thinkin' of just what could be going on with the psyche's of those posting such things. You have been most gracious in reading those sometimes quite random rumblings n' mumblings i post here. Honestly i mostly post what comes to mind at that particular moment in time. I'm not seeking fame or anyone to know my name or to be "seen", but merely to be heard. And sometimes i post so others will be heard, through me. We all must be heard in some way or fashion. I believe it's why we are here on earth. I also believe that we are all here for such a time as this, for it is no accident that we crossed paths. And we never know if we are entertaining angels unaware. For they are amongst us and show up in the most unexpected of ways and in the most unlikeliest of forms.

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brinny

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God makes Saints of men this much I know
Even as He makes young flowers to grow.
We most look to Him and not ourselves
placing our pride upon the shelves

A Saint rejoices in his smallness in His Word
Even as his littleness magnifies the Lord.
He heals our brokeness as a Divine sealer
and brings riches from the wounded healer

Being a Saint is all about our hearts
Being open to the wisdom He imparts
He chooses not the strong but the weak
That we have nothing to boast when we speak.

We see our fultility until we learn humility.
We learn of blindness until we can see
I am but dust but He has chosen me
Making a giant out of a little flea

you, my friend, are a gifted poet.
 
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fleamailman

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"...very moved by your post brinny..." replied the goblin, noting that it was good to post the first thing that entered one's mind perhaps, just as long as it then reposted hewed into something that truly become you to yourself now, adding "...ask my why, and I will say that it is just how I must be between us, no not because all around me is trying to stop me doing this with dailylife's pretty distractions, not because those forums try desperately to clone me into them, not because we go to graves together, nor that these are clearly end times with both political financial and climatic worlds in turmoil and demise, no none of that, simply that if you believe in anything brinny then doesn't that belief tell you bare witness now, and how does one bare witness where one does not notice what's happening around one, and what witness is it where one doesn't record and speak out, yes it's pain to open the eyes where the more one sees the more it just hurts doesn't it, but that pain is the price of one's vision..."


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