write something nonsensical, surreal, silly.

[fleamailman]

("...better and better..." went the goblin appreciating the reads now, adding "...perhaps you might relate to my next then...")

repost from elsewhere, the "day in a life" thread

"...good afternoon..." said the goblin who had changed his plan for today, instead of his usual afternoon nap he would just daydream that he was on some tropical island, that is for two reasons then: first that in his nap he might dream about work meaning no advance whatever since it's his work-time anyway, and second, that coming round from his actual sleep it is bigger shock realizing one is stuck at one's galley-slave workbench than it is if his mind just returned from its daydream to notice his arms are still pulling those oars then, and the goblin says "...take it away arms then...", and starts singing "mine arms have seen the coming of the story of the snored who are rowing out the rhythm where this goblin's self is oared" and with that somehow the goblin's daydream stretched out far before him

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[brinny]

i'm also thankful for quiet, sane moments of clarity, drinking in the stillness verrrrrry slowly, like a hot cup of tea.

 

[fleamailman]

repost from elsewhere

the goblin was thinking about the fates of james dean and marlon brando, and seeing them as people caught between a scylla of death and a charybdis of old age, saying "...just to have one survive only seemed to underline the tragedy more where, had they both shared the same fate, it wouldn't have...", so the tragedy needed some fortunate occurrence to run along side it to make it feel all that more poignant, like a silver lining perhaps that makes the rain cloud look darker still

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[brinny]

I'm thankful for glimpses of a sliver of a moon through a window

 

[fleamailman]

repost from elsewhere, another moment in the past

"about a year" were the exact words, remembered the goblin thinking of his father now, knowing they wouldn't talk about it again, besides, talking wouldn't change anything they knew, so the goblin was pensive at this point, saying "...no doubt, after he's gone I will ask myself why I hadn't phoned more often, done more than just "being there at the other end of the phone", but I will also know the truth, that I couldn't have asked him in his decline how he was getting on for fear of being misunderstood...", so the goblin's role was to listen and to be supportive during this last send off period, and yet it was as if both of them had run out of things to say to each another even if they still wanted to say something to show they were listening, but whatever one voiced, and how often too, the words just tailed off into the silence once more

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[fleamailman]

repost from elsewhere,

Is traditional publishing dead?

"...not sure, but various reasons do seem obvious though..." replied the goblin now, continuing "...first, put yourself in the shoes of the readers here, given the choice between reading a book or meeting the author on-line, given the choice of paying for that book or just reading something for free here, given the choice between only reading the book or being able to reply with comments and questions..." the goblin paused, sipped his morning coffee once more, and then continued "...ah, but now put yourself in the author's shoes, given the choice between a declining physical book market or a growing internet one, given the choice between the constraints of that publishing world or the freedom of forumland, given the choice between not knowing one's true readership or simply looking a one's hitcount here, the choice between a slowly declining book writing model against an ever growing livewriting one....", in fact, the goblin felt that few people had the time to read at length these days, he himself had no published books, wrote badly, and was a dyslexic to boot, but he simply had one thing going for him perhaps, in that whereas most writers kept their best stuff for their blogs and books, the goblin tried to write within the posts themselves, little wonder then why a livewriter's hitcount was what it was or he wasn't a livewriter

103 765http://www.christianforums.com/misc.php?do=whoposted&t=7670171 9839

 

[brinny]

I will never forget...

i was in a direly critical situation that threatened my very life. There was nowhere to turn. It was so dire that i slept on concrete at night, with my 2 small girls, and i was 2 months pregnant with my 3rd. i had heard about a shelter that just opened. It was called the "House of Ruth". When i eventually called them they accepted me and my girls. Later i found out that the shelter was founded by 2 Godsends of whom i shall never forget, and they were The Catholic Daughters of America and the National Council of Jewish Women. The shelter was named after Ruth in the Old Testament with this verse:

"And Ruth said, Intreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God:" ~Ruth 1:16

My youngest daughter's middle name is Ruth in honor of these dear souls who were there when no one else was.

I will never forget the refuge they offered me and their kindness and compassion. I will always remember that love covers a multitude of sins and a multitude of differences of which they demonstrated so graciously.

As Thanksgiving approaches i am prompted to remember how God has provided for me and how he has worked through these dear ones to minister to me and my 2 little ones.

"Then shall the King say unto them on his right hand, Come, ye blessed of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world: For I was an hungred, and ye gave me meat: I was thirsty, and ye gave me drink: I was a stranger, and ye took me in: Naked, and ye clothed me: I was sick, and ye visited me: I was in prison, and ye came unto me. Then shall the righteous answer him, saying, Lord, when saw we thee an hungred, and fed thee? or thirsty, and gave thee drink? When saw we thee a stranger, and took thee in? or naked, and clothed thee? Or when saw we thee sick, or in prison, and came unto thee? And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me." ~Matthew 25:34-40

"Is not this the fast that I have chosen? to loose the bands of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, and to let the oppressed go free, and that ye break every yoke? Is it not to deal thy bread to the hungry, and that thou bring the poor that are cast out to thy house? when thou seest the naked, that thou cover him; and that thou hide not thyself from thine own flesh? Then shall thy light break forth as the morning, and thine health shall spring forth speedily: and thy righteousness shall go before thee; the glory of the LORD shall be thy rereward." ~Isaiah 58:6-8

What wondrous love is this? - Full Version 6:03 - YouTube

 

[brinny]

repost from elsewhere, another moment in the past

"about a year" were the exact words, remembered the goblin thinking of his father now, knowing they wouldn't talk about it again, besides, talking wouldn't change anything they knew, so the goblin was pensive at this point, saying "...no doubt, after he's gone I will ask myself why I hadn't phoned more often, done more than just "being there at the other end of the phone", but I will also know the truth, that I couldn't have asked him in his decline how he was getting on for fear of being misunderstood...", so the goblin's role was to listen and to be supportive during this last send off period, and yet it was as if both of them had run out of things to say to each another even if they still wanted to say something to show they were listening, but whatever one voiced, and how often too, the words just tailed off into the silence once more

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would you give anything to see your father again?

 

[fleamailman]

would you give anything to see your father again?

("...if one can take nothing with one, then I've nothing to give..." replied the goblin, adding "...but if we meet again I say my thanks in person...")

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 is 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 were 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 felt that now all that was left to say was a simple "...merry chrisbus everybody..."

2

 

[brinny]

except the entire reason for "Christmas" and the name itself is based on "Christ" and that it means a mass for Christ, does it not? I believe Christopher Columbus has his own day here in the states although it does not hold the significance of a Christ Who was born for the sole purpose of dying for my sorry self, even as i did not merit such grace, yet i was loved to that extent regardless of my own sorry, abominable condition.

Mary Did You Know Video - The Passion - YouTube

 

[brinny]

would you give anything to see your father again?

("...if one can take nothing with one, then I've nothing to give..." replied the goblin, adding "...but if we meet again I say my thanks in person...")

Thanks for what flea? (just wonderin')

I'm thankful that i was able to reconcile my own angst towards and about my earthly father and that God enabled His grace to supersede what my own inclinations had been towards him, and that His grace reigned as forgiveness poured forth to forgive him, even as he was unable to ask for it before he died a tragic death.

 

[fleamailman]

("...yes, perhaps that chrisbus one is not one of my better posts then..." noted the goblin wishing to be forgiven for a slight poetic license at times promising that it won't happen ever again till next time, but he meant well anyway)

repost from elsewhere

morning, and the goblin slides out of bed in his pre-coffee state, where hitting the bathroom, he will shave off his face, weigh himself against some long lost goal, and return to the bedroom to dress, before switching on those props of the electric kettle and the laptop, where his coffee made, a few gulps has him just roused from within, where landing on an edit thread has him fully awake yet motionless, then perhaps the goblin starts typing out some thought, or phrase, he had kept for this moment, or more often the goblin would just type a reflection of what he was thinking at the moment, or give up without disappointment, but either way, all this had long passed from that early point where the goblin had to explain to himself why he actually did it, for it, like his getting up in the morning was simply habit now, "...and who needs any reason for habit..." he asked himself to himself, continuing "...it just is habit..."

3

 

[fleamailman]

("...just my thanks for being who he was when he was too, and yes, I had a good life by it..." replied the goblin who let go of his past though it still haunted him in its way, saying "...the dreams at night take me back, writing reinforces everything in that all that one does does one in return, and everything one has has one too, that's all I suppose...")

repost from elsewhere, a "last post" thread

"Ah, goblin. The hours fly by and the minutes are just a vague blur." muses xxxxx. "It seems like just a second ago that I attempted to wrest the last poster crown from your head"

"...and I would give you this crown whenever you desired it knowing that it would simply roll back to me afterwards, no, it's funny when one thinks about it, I mean the slot seems like a box where I am systematically pulling things out of it trying to get to the bottom each time still there is just more and more and more within it..." replied the goblin supportively, adding "...and yet this box like slot in itself doesn't look all that big...", "...just take a journey to self goblin..." it was saying with an open smile

5 773 9890

 

[brinny]

no need for apologies....we just post what we must, each of us.....which of course means if i must post something in response and perhaps challenge it, well of course i do. It's like you said. a "sharing" of sorts...you share your thoughts and i share mine, but perhaps differently than you might be used to. Yet in this process we are both prompted to think more expansively and consider new ways of looking at what we had not given much thought to before. It may even prompt us to venture from our "comfort zones" and that might just be a good thing.

 

[brinny]

i posted something here without researching it first......

decided to post this instead....it cracks me up.....and as it is written, a merry heart doeth good like a medicine, and nothing is merrier than dysfunctional families at their best.....besides, tomorrow is Thanksgiving:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ugVJ78VDLH4&feature=related

 

[food4thought]

"Well," said the monkey, with a slight smile under somber eyes,"I for one am a grumpy old dinosaur when it comes to remaking Christmas as X-mas; changing Merry Christmas to Happy Holidays, and replacing great Christmas hymns like Silent Night with tripe like Have a Holly Jolly Christmas." The monkey twitched slightly with that last mention, as though hearing the song inside and trying desperately to replace it with something sane and worthwhile...

"Anyways, I trust that God will have a say in it before too much longer, if He hasn't already... I'm not one to see judgment in every natural disaster, but I can't help but wonder if the last decade or so of increasing disaster could be God indicating to us that He's had enough of being patronized, replaced, pushed out, and generally all but ignored by the American government and the majority of it's people..." The smile was long gone from the monkey's face, now replaced with a look of sad contemplation. "Not implying that Sandy was the result of X-mas references or anything, but more the sum total of the nation's soul. We want God out of our public square, our government, our monuments, and our entertainment. Keep Him pent up in the church, kept safe and sound for formulaic and scripture stripped sermons on Sundays."

 

[fleamailman]

("...enjoying the reads, certainly coming together into something between us..." went the goblin not feeling too bright today, saying "...the good thing about a communal thread, rather than a blog that is, is that it carries on in times of one's mental slack, and then when one's muse returns it's there again to join in...")

repost from elsewhere, the "what are you doing" thread

the goblin was doing "nothing" in style, when he should have been doing "whatever" instead, saying "...for who owns this existence, if one can't do "nothing" within it...", and yet that fear of not meeting his own obligations always lurked ever in the shadows of his mind somewhere, at which point a gypsy was passing a small paper cup in an unwashed hand around the bistro tables to the usual "...si vous plait monsieur, si vous plait..." with a voice without much expectation while the goblin just typed on before finally signalling a clear "no" with those upraised flayed fingers of his two hands as if pushing everything away from him, "...gypsy, you are what I am not, in a freedom that I fear to follow, just I hate you for reminding me now..." sighed the goblin, as the clock just set the goblin's pace once more for his next "whatever" in a life that all seemed so "arbeit macht frei" for that constant command which it held one under

60

 

[fleamailman]

repost from elsewhere

often the goblin often pretended to himself that he actually knew why he was and why he posted, but no, in fact, he didn't really understand why at all, so instead he just said "...yes, years later and I'm still trying to store any "worth writing about thoughts" into posts across forumland, so I'm never bored, never idle then, and where too, I can usually gage my my clarity of thought by doing it...", in fact, the goblin's being anonymous meant that he had no real external reason to post anywhere, just he felt it would be a pity if he didn't he supposed, plus he wanted to know what those thoughts were, terming it his journey to self perhaps, yet by now it defied all logic and had become habitual as something that would build up within his mind nagging for release, so the goblin just said "...back to the shared life clause in the muse's pact again, where either I empty my mind by posting her stuff out of me, or have it pile up within me increasingly nagging me for release somehow..."

60

 

[food4thought]

"I know one good phrase in French, 'parle vu ungley?'" said the monkey laughing, "but thank God the internet came to the rescue and I don't need to learn french and german to get your posts, Goblin."

"And no matter that your not feeling particualrly inspired this morning, sir... sometimes we all have days like that, and you have th guts to post through them unlike me, who simply takes a hiatus when inspiration runs away and plays a good game of hide and seek on me."

 

[fleamailman]

("...you write well and your ability is evident..." replied the goblin thanking the monkey again, adding "...well I tend to write like a roman battle line, the hastani skirmish with thoughts probing their weakness, the princepals engage in editing those thoughts into actual texts, and lastly when the first two fail, it all falls back to the tiari who either post finished works or who search google images for matching pictures...", in fact the goblin could sum his writing up his writing technique as when bright write when dull edit)

repost from elsewhere, the "what are you doing" thread

the goblin was trying to do "elsewhere" again, though he could never escape for long it seems, saying "...well, that the trouble with life, just never a good daydream when one needs one...", outside the relentless cascading snow witnessed away the last remnants, of the previous year, only to add slush to a hard wet pavement below, somehow "death by understatement" seemed to sum up the goblin's overall attitude towards his passing years at this point, where those positive hopes of yesterday had become these negative fears of today, adding "...well if I was ever drunk at christmas time, I have never been more sober than now concerning this new year...", just that the present seemed to ushering in year that seemed more ominous than all those previous

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