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  #4261  
Old 12-15-2013, 09:07 PM
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repost from elsewhere

fat people's votes dont count for anything more than normal peoples votes
"...save that fat people are the majority here thus becoming the norm by it, whereas the given norm then becomes the abnorm by that default..." mentioned the goblin, adding "...same old problem here, where democracy is ever a majority decision by the lowest common denominator, oh yes, we're all for direct democracy in theory though I'm not quite sure if any of us would really like to be ruled over by walmart shoppers, mtv viewers, and mcdonalds eaters, even if alas they are the majority today..."


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  #4262  
Old 12-16-2013, 01:19 AM
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repost from the goblin's blog

dad drives as as the sign above of gates of Mortaldampsted's hospital were passed under once more where his mother had been for some time now, and perhaps her leg had mended fully too, but could it be trusted to take weight, moreover could she still balance herself correctly, these things tried the goblin at this point who, after rubbing his hands in alcohol, greeted his mother who recognized him as family, one of her sons perhaps, and there the goblin, siting on a chair recited those daily lines that repeated themselves aimlessly "...the garden is looking wonderful, the snowdrops and out and just waiting for your return now....", lies, white lies but to hell with the truth, accepted the goblin who continued "...are you going to sweep the path again, you'd like that wouldn't you..." his mother would says words of agreement but they were no longer the right words, just those roundabout near words with a smile that meant she understood and, with that over, the goblin set to feeding her liquid, testing the plastic mug of tea for heat and passing her the spout to drink from, "...more tea then...", yes the doctor had told the goblin that hospital wards are very dry places and the more she drinks the better, "...bit more then...", ".... a chocolate perhaps...", "...there, you've nearly drank it all...", "...all gone now..." phrases like words reminding him of childhood, his, or of his children's that is, and with that the visit was nearly over, save to sit by the bed for a while longer, where later, having asked the nurse for the news the goblin would return home where, looking out from the sitting room, he gaged the skyline for the weather and the approaching storm, and then happened to look down at the huddled snowdrops "...ah my little white lies..." he whispered to himself knowing that this strange association had grown permanent within him


xxxx
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  #4263  
Old 12-16-2013, 03:29 AM
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repost from elsewhere

Originally Posted by Some scornful frog View Post
So apart from format there is no difference between your posts and anyone else's? Again. we're both using the same medium; therefore my writing is as 'live' as yours is, correct? So, one has to ask, why the affectation? Why sacrifice readers for conceit?
"...hello scornful frog, do you know the difference between between the cinema and the theater terms of audience..." inquired the goblin flattered at his readership had risen to one post in ten even, where previously it had been stated as none at all apparently, adding "...so do you store your posts, does your "readability" actually equate to pulling readers towards you now, so I'll race you then, let the years pass here, yes it's so easy to heckle from the sidelines as you do, where I suppose all fiction is pretentious in its asking the reader to jump on board, that is to accept the pretense of it all, and how can I be conceited if I am anonymous throughout..." continuing "...no I think that the only difference between us is that you don't refine your posts into something more, so these years have passed to date and what have you to show for it, a readability of what exactly...", in fact, the goblin loved forumland and everyone upon it, it was just like punch and judy for adults, yet the frog, even at that tender age the goblin imagined, was probably asking his parents why the other children couldn't just see that it was only a man making a funny voice in a box with some puppets, then sighing "...a persona is an act then, why not just accept it as such, for acts are affectations pure and simple..."

warning, contains scenes of domestic violence not suitable for parents, click me


xxxx

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  #4264  
Old 12-16-2013, 09:21 PM
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repost from the goblin's blog

the goblin could see it coming, his mother in her 86th year had alzheimer's and yet looking back it had been a fight worth waging for her, in fact he still thanked his wife and children for their understanding over those many months apart from them it had taken, that is, between its first state of simple forgetfulness on to that usual fully blown abusive state one sees rooted in someone not knowing who anyone around them was, so the goblin's nights had been long, he had had to make sure that she did not escape the house nor fall, meaning a watch that was each night every night, so between the goblin and his father they had gained his mother a year and half longer in her own home, and it was only until she had become featally incontinent too that they admitted defeat and placed her in a secure home, where looking back, his feelings were mixed, first off there were no regrets, he was happy at himself, he still is, and he had looked at this more as chance to say thank you to his mother than as any burden or bore, but he had also had to admit to himself that somewhere in all this his mother had already died, she was there and not there, anyway, if the goblin had to take a memory with him, it would be of almost the last time he saw her before he returned to switzerland, you see hospitals in england are not allowed to restrain people and yet his mother would have only fallen if she tried to stand up, so they laid her back comfortably in a reclining chair in the sitting room while the goblin stroked her hand like a cat, "...I want to sit up..." she would ask, "...in a moment..." the goblin would reply knowing that it couldn't be, she would clasp the side of the chair, pull hard and then give up, "...no, I want to sit up.." again and again like the goblin felt like he was looking at someone actually drowning, "...in a moment, in a moment...", over and over until that image stuck in the goblin's memory, just it seemed to sum up alzheimer's disease for him, alzheimer as like in drowning then


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  #4265  
Old 12-16-2013, 09:33 PM
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repost from elsewhere, written at his parents place in a village on dartmoor's national park

"...I suppose to make a comparison then, dartmoor, and the little village here is rather like some tropical rain forest minus warmth and trees ..." mentioned the goblin, explaining "...in fact, the weather here, can be described simply as a subtle combination of three factors, rain of all shapes and sizes, cloud cover in various shades to forms, offering a break from the rain perhaps, and the sun, as if there by mistake, therefore the buildings are deep set against the elements, and moss grows on anything, oh and anyone for that matter, that stays still for too long, whereas the yocals, bless'em, do not have continental coffee, nor any WIFI hot spots in the village, no doubt factors designed to make escape form dartmoor maximum security prison nigh impossible..."

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  #4266  
Old 12-17-2013, 02:42 AM
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repost from elsewhere

"...how is it that you writertypes always seem to write for that stupid elsewhere ignoring these readers here around you still..." inquired the goblin supportively, knowing too, that those reader probably wanted to learn more the writers here before they would go anywhere near their works, even if the goblin didn't know how to wake up the writers to their present surroundings, so instead the goblin just smiled to the words "...look, those readers are no different from you and me I guess, for they too, turn up upon these writers forums to catch a glimpse of "who writes what" while wishing to join in too, oh but then you writers make that dreadful mistake of thinking that a writer's forum is some dunce workshop meant for those increasingly unread publications, hence you shortchange your readers directly, thus they, and quite rightly too, move on from our forum in utter disappointment in search of another forum with someone who is willing to write for them then, I mean in their shoes you wouldn't you be the same, so just for a moment set aside those thoughts about that declining publishing world, those haughty editors, and that meager 3% of those who still have time for books anyway, and instead then, think upon your growing forum-readership, and more importantly upon the way you are going to adapt your works to this forumland here, before someone else beats you to the mark...", just that the goblin felt that all the writertypes had to do was pull those readers towards their posts through that sheer imagination coupled with a certain fluidity of his pen that only the writertypes themselves actually had, smiling "...so you want to your works to be read by many, well that's good isn't it because I'm trying to open your eyes to a bigger readership than 3% here, though first perhaps you should experiment with these humble posts, why, because it's all short downloadable content that's interactive where I guess I'll just leave you to think about the future of this internet in the years to come, awake yet..."


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  #4267  
Old 12-17-2013, 04:46 AM
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repost from elsewhere, upon his mother's entering merlin's cave

readying for his return to geneva, the goblin had said goodbye to his failing mother once more, and yet again the goblin was thinking here that the older one gets the more that word "goodbye" had weight to it, for this room in this old house was quiet and barely unchanged since the last time he had visited, simply it's silence reflected the absence of it's owner now, and although the goblin could easily play some music, or watch the television then, somehow it just seemed neither right nor sincere at this slow passing moment to do so


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  #4268  
Old 12-17-2013, 07:22 AM
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repost from elsewhere, a "last post" thread, subject of israel/iran again

"...no the UN hasn't changed, it is still the cap in hand "talk show" it's alway been,..." replied the goblin who lived in Geneva and was well aware of its impotence now noting its previous "resolutions" towards many things, simply the UN was the wizard of oz in all but name, quite likable but utterly powerless then, so the goblin just opened his mouth and went "...nah, israel won't leave it up to the UN, but either way, you asked me to mention other country's problems too, and I could as there is so much happening worldwide, but in the end I am left feeling that there is only really one situation upon our doorstep today, that of the devaluation of the dollar in our time, and from it all the other devaluations, descents, and depravities that typically mark an end of empire in our midst..."


73

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  #4269  
Old 12-18-2013, 01:03 AM
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Love the running men. Cannot get enough of your creative art always chosen.
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  #4270  
Old 12-18-2013, 02:05 AM
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("...thanks for keeping me company then..." went the goblin thinking the raven would go far if she kept up with him over the remaining time, adding "...what you write writes you back, where I can't offer you fame or fortune but just perhaps I might be able to offer you a journey here, but those steps upon this journey are yours alone for the making...")

repost from the goblin's blog

clicking the link that brought him here the goblin first enjoyed the posted replies and then sat through the silence of the night fishing through his thoughts as he cast his mind back over the day, anyway, it would have been here at his computer or in bed as his day always seemed to end in a defrag, that was, before it all switched to sleep mode and the screen saver of dreams, he fished on "...ours is to witness..." a line the goblin had proposed to himself but then returned it back to the water, settling for the simpler "...it's the last gift..." something he hoped it would do towards the tally, other lines would come, yet in the morning the tally, in its turn, would be forgotten save perhaps for a line once in a while, this then was all that it was


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  #4271  
Old 12-18-2013, 05:28 AM
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repost from elsewhere

day nears its end, the goblin seated at the sitting room table is aware of the unfolding formality and pointlessness of returning to england to visit his mother one last time, and more likely the very last time too, before the inevitable that is, he felt like the rest of his life was on hold at this point while this one looming event was ever gaining on him, and, whether he embraced it or rejected it, the simple truth was that it would happen anyway and his only real course was just accepting it "...I don't know how many times I have accepted this fate already then..." related the goblin, adding "...nor how many times more its demands for acceptance will return..."


1

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  #4272  
Old 12-18-2013, 12:29 PM
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the not to be final post in the goblin's blog

the goblin somehow knew that he still had this forum to thank, its solid members and even this white square box with all its icons. the goblin's life had moved away from his blog now, the tally was debt-paid now, yet the night still returned the goblin here to reflect and write awhile, somehow the goblin knew that this should be his blog's last post, for it would become a picture over painted, too detailed, whatever, so now the goblin would just say goodbye to his past once more not that that ever happens as the night just returns him here often enough, "...reminds me then, the moon is late..." said the goblin as the sounds of the street below broke into the apartment, "...so where's that smile then..."


xxxx
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  #4273  
Old 12-18-2013, 09:31 PM
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from the goblin's blog

months had passed since he had been here, the icons still played above the box to the droning of the computer and a long moment passed before the goblin could type on ever able to recall his mother passing though that cottage hospital to the merlin's cave, the place she waits her last out now, so a week from now the goblin would be back with his family looking for a job, the effort had saved the family thousands of pounds but the harsh pictures of old age remains vivid, the right thing had been done, the debt paid to his childhood, and by now a tree in the garden had began to tilt, unable to cut it down, the goblin had just pruned back as many of the branches as he could thinking that it would at least deny the wind its grip before the men would come to remove it, sighing "...well, I did my best to keep her standing..."


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  #4274  
Old 12-19-2013, 12:35 AM
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Oh that tree is amazing.
It's like the personification of a soul.
From the outside, it seems black and white (gray to be technical),
but inside, it is an inferno of kaleidoscopic chromatics waiting to erupt like that of an aged and well retired star, now a supernova of dreams.

Bravo! That is my picture of the day.
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  #4275  
Old 12-19-2013, 01:05 AM
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Oh that tree is amazing. It's like the personification of a soul. From the outside, it seems black and white (gray to be technical), but inside, it is an inferno of kaleidoscopic chromatics waiting to erupt like that of an aged and well retired star, now a supernova of dreams.
("...I left the post ambiguous so that the reader would rightly conclude that I was either talking about my mother or the tree there..." mentioned the goblin, thanking that ravenness for her company once, then adding "...oddly, the picture is often the hardest part of the post, for first one has to find it, while it has to both connect to context of the post but not too obviously that it seems distracting, where for example if I were to choose a picture for your christmas/christ poem there, I would choose some winter's scene...")

repost from elsewhere

"...nice posts..." went the goblin enthralled by the idea of one's persona in the context of forum-readership, smiling "...ah now, is it really my fault that you humans want interaction instead, I mean if this post had been longish you might not have even started reading it...", somehow the goblin guessed that many a human still thought of themselves as a reader per se, yet the stamina was gone, moreover the time to read at length in their day was missing too, thus the goblin had compromised in his fashion, concluding "...no, if anything my dear humans, today it's all about "the 2cts" isn't it, so I'm listening now..."


xxxx

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  #4276  
Old 12-19-2013, 02:26 AM
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Originally Posted by fleamailman View Post
("...I left the post ambiguous so that the reader would rightly conclude that I was either talking about my mother or the tree there..." mentioned the goblin, thanking that ravenness for her company once, then adding "...oddly, the picture is often the hardest part of the post, for first one has to find it, while it has to both connect to context of the post but not too obviously that it seems distracting, where for example if I were to choose a picture for your christmas/christ poem there, I would choose some winter's scene...")
You know, I was thinking of adding the Nativity scene to it.



But time Goblin, time is always running so fast you cannot do it.
Chronos and I, we're enemies. Mortal and immortal.
We fight, him with seconds me with hours.
Our hands, we clash, that of two beamed swords.
Yet in the end, he runs ahead to push the hands of time
a million seconds later, so I can't catch up and break the clock.

Thank you for the read of my poem.
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  #4277  
Old 12-19-2013, 06:19 AM
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You know, I was thinking of adding the Nativity scene to it. But time Goblin, time is always running so fast you cannot do it. Chronos and I, we're enemies. Mortal and immortal. We fight, him with seconds me with hours. Our hands, we clash, that of two beamed swords. Yet in the end, he runs ahead to push the hands of time a million seconds later, so I can't catch up and break the clock.
[edit]("...the pic I saw by your post..." went the goblin) http://i92.photobucket.com/albums/l1...ps4578a949.jpg[/edit]


"...where's the rush, in that you do intend to make something out of your posts I imagine..." inquired the goblin thinking that the ravenness could opt out whenever she wished but that her path would be left untread in doing so, adding "...go slowly but go all the same, simply store your posts away and return to them later, why, because what you write writes you back and don't you want to know who you are by what you post...", somehow the goblin's mind never wandered far from that journey to self idea that he had had from years back now


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  #4278  
Old 12-19-2013, 07:03 AM
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repost from elsewhere, the "What stories make you worry about your own sanity?" thread

I'm currently writing a story about roadkill going through the five stages of grief. What stories have you written that made you worry that you might need help?
"...MYAHAHAHA, a bit too late to worry about one's sanity here, yet for all our conjectures it's only ever a fiction typed upon this virtual reality between us of thoughts in one's head then, for whatever one writes writes one back and isn't this ever the price of the practice..." mentioned the goblin who had come to terms with his shared life from years back, quickly adding "...just that, since normal people don't write much, their faculty of imagination remains somewhat stunted within them still, simply they don't live their plots becoming their parts, nor think like writers must think, an odd shared state then, agreed, just a shared life of both compensations and penalties, the price for extenuating this imagination...", in fact, the goblin felt that his writing pulled forth all sorts of recollection, much like a ouija board would bring forth those ghosts perhaps, smiling "...naah, that muse does not go back into her bottle, so let your ghosts write forth their story from within you still, for only those readers think of writing as "something that lands on the page for them to read", naah, the writer lives it, it's writing for " the adventure of whatever takes place in one's mind while typing", and that's far more rewarding isn't it, just a journey to self then, yours and yours alone inside, well not if your ghosts note that your writing, then it's a shred life again..."


223

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Old 12-20-2013, 04:05 AM
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repost from elsewhere, the "what drives you" thread

"...why, the captain of course who delegates her housework to me..." replied the goblin who loved her so much that he followed her in her folly without any direct complaint, explaining "...so this body just does that which this mind does not, while this mind for its part does its constant elsewhere in an escape where one thinks above this reality like hopping between mental stepping stones over one's lot I suppose...", while outside the night's light rain fell upon a now deserted street below, for it too, reminded the goblin that his reality was somewhat overrated of late, sighing "...isn't it just that one's imagination is what you make of it, whereas alas one's reality is what it makes of you..."


223

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Old 12-20-2013, 04:36 AM
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repost from the goblin's blog

"...oh no, not this moment again..." remarked the goblin to himself looking across the organic coffeeshop in the village of dungford, the matrons had changed, insomuch as to who they were, but the rest down to each and every food product, tables, chairs and the like were exactly as they were when he had been here before looking after his mother a year almost a year ago, where the goblin himself probably fitted in somewhere between the moms with babies on the one side and the grey sky window view on the other, he typed on, preferring to look out across the window to the people walking down the main street who, if not aimless, were not exactly hurrying either, “ just village pace as the goblin dubbed it, something which the mind accepted in waves of resignation until it couldn’t, at which point some smiling men in yellow reflective coats had jumped out of the trash van to remove the black bags, “…look children, their taking away the black bags away…” came a voice from the next table, the goblin’s eyes followed eagerly in hope till they looked up to the gray sky above without hope anymore, just village pace as ever


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Old 12-20-2013, 12:46 PM
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Originally Posted by fleamailman View Post
repost from elsewhere, the "what drives you" thread

"...why, the captain of course who delegates her housework to me..." replied the goblin who loved her so much that he followed her in her folly without any direct complaint, explaining "...so this body just does that which this mind does not, while this mind for its part does it's constant elsewhere in an escape where one thinks above this reality like hopping between mental stepping stones over one's lot I suppose...", while outside the night's light rain fell upon a now deserted street below, for it too, reminded the goblin that his reality was somewhat overrated of late, sighing "...isn't it just that one's imagination is what you make of it, whereas alas one's reality is what it makes of you..."


xxxx
Ha! That alien. Oh it's too much for me Goblin. Stop it!
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Old 12-20-2013, 01:23 PM
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Ha! That alien. Oh it's too much for me Goblin. Stop it!
"...well no, I imagine you'd be too young to know of mekon of dan dare fame, that came from the eagle comic..." replied the goblin aware that it was a bit before his time too, adding "...btw talking about something being seriously wrong with me, I went out and bought a tiny christmas pudding together with some smooth full fat cream, of which I like it served cold like revenge then, where most probably I'm the only one in this apartment, let alone the building, or in the entire street too, if not the whole city of geneva now who can actually eat christmas pudding then, no accounting for taste is there..."



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  #4283  
Old 12-20-2013, 03:08 PM
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Originally Posted by fleamailman View Post
("...well no, I imagine you'd be too young to know of mekon of dan dare fame, that came from the eagle comic..." replied the goblin aware that it was a bit before his time too, adding "...btw talking something being seriously wrong with me, I went out and bought a tiny christmas pudding together with some smooth full fat cream, of which I like it served cold like revenge then, where most probably I'm the only one in this apartment, let alone the building, let alone the entire street too, if not the whole city then who can eat christmas pudding...")
Nobody eats Christmas pudding there?
That's awful!
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Old 12-21-2013, 01:57 AM
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Originally Posted by fleamailman View Post
repost from elsewhere, written at his parents place in a village on dartmoor's national park

"...I suppose to make a comparison then, dartmoor, and the little village here is rather like some tropical rain forest minus warmth and trees ..." mentioned the goblin, explaining "...in fact, the weather here, can be described simply as a subtle combination of three factors, rain of all shapes and sizes, cloud cover in various shades to forms, offering a break from the rain perhaps, and the sun, as if there by mistake, therefore the buildings are deep set against the elements, and moss grows on anything, oh and anyone for that matter, that stays still for too long, whereas the yocals, bless'em, do not have continental coffee, nor any WIFI hot spots in the village, no doubt factors designed to make escape form dartmoor maximum security prison nigh impossible..."

Beautiful! Love the composition and how you captured the subtle colors throughout. They make this so filled with life and there's never a dull moment looking at this
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  #4285  
Old 12-21-2013, 02:40 AM
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Originally Posted by Elisa/win View Post
Beautiful! Love the composition and how you captured the subtle colors throughout. They make this so filled with life and there's never a dull moment looking at this
"...thank you, so join in whenever and with whatever too, where nothing would please me more than than to have the writers here become known by their posts and persona too, for the readers of our forum are not somewhere else today, promise, no they're no further away from your pen than this screen is from your eyes..." replied the goblin who time and again had repeated that mantra of there are more readers here than most elsewhere, before explaining something else, smiling "...well, they say that of all types of painting fresco tends to be one of the hardest because, just like its namesake of "fresh", one is painting against the clock before that wet plaster dries, so for me this livewriting has much in common with fresco then because one is on stage here, with one's ghosts perhaps sitting in the front of the audience and with those readers sitting somewhere behind them then...", "...just get on with the show goblin before you become one of us now..." went those voices in the front row again, just it seemed life was too short for all that fame and fortune when one compared it to one's journey to self here


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Last edited by fleamailman; 09-18-2015 at 12:48 AM..
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Old 12-21-2013, 02:54 AM
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repost from the goblin's blog

the goblin was thinking back this morning to the last time he saw his mother alive in the home, merlin's cave as he called it, she was happy to see him though, the goblin could see that, as she was sat up in the bed and tried to talk, not that she could really, just that her head bobbed back and forward with each popped word like little bullets from a steady machine gun, as dad fed bits of a cut pear to her mouth and, at times, she had enough strength to take one for herself from the small while plate placed in on her lap in the dull interior of her bedroom, cell room, or whatever they call them then, the day was ever gray the goblin remembers, this ceremonial like ritual never changed much, the pear, a freshly squeezed beaker of orange juice with a plastic straw, and the two of us there visiting her in a gradual goodbye, "...just, it just was, and we were there to see it out as always..." said the goblin once more, adding "...the feeling even now is one of depth, sobriety, and silence, yes, I kissed her forehead giving my promise to return..." recalled the goblin, who remembered walking away up the long corridor with dad and saying to him "...you know dad, it could be so much worse, think how lucky we are then, we are you know..." and with that dad would push those coded buttons on the ever locked door releasing us to the awaiting taxi, only to shut everything tight away behind us again, as the taxi would then pull away from merlin's cave seemingly just another time in many


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Old 12-22-2013, 01:40 AM
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repost from elsewhere, the "testing signature" thread

"...well your signature looks cool indeed..." mentioned the goblin asked upon his thoughts then, and whose thoughts were more on the fact the his navibot sr8895 had toppled over the christmas tree, leaving him to wonder if there should have been a disclaimer somewhere stating warning, robotic hoovers can seriously topple over christmas trees even if they can then help you clear away the mess afterwards not that "cleaning" was ever the point of the navibot anyway, no the navibot was there to align those fears that one might have that all this onward advancement of technology might somehow spell the end of humanity, and more importantly for the captain at least the end of her housework even, well not any time soon that by looks of things, adding "...actually no, the captain had married me without any real expectation towards her housework now, and thus I bought the navibot in my turn without that consideration neither, just that having some company was the motivation here..."


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  #4288  
Old 12-22-2013, 05:36 AM
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repost from the goblin's blog

back in geneva the email reads that the goblin's mother of 86 years old might not be able to swallow, the goblin understood that the family would bulk at having her force fed with tubes, so the goblin replied to his father typing "...I know we hope that we haven't yet reached that point but, as always, simply I go along in supporting any decision you take or plans you make, also I think going naturally "without distress" is what my mother would have wanted if one was talking to her before this illness took her reason away from her, so I imagine there isn't anyone who wouldn't wish to go out in dignity so your decision for her would be once more the correct one for her here I feel..." and with that the goblin had to choose another postcard to write to his mother again as she would like to see pictures of the mountains, while dad, when he received it, would then read it to her if she was awake but what was written on the postcard didn't matter, only that she would feel that something nice had happened, the postcard seemed another slot asking for feeding "...so slot shall we tell her of the flowers in bloom, of the blue sky and of the breeze that floats the clouds across the alps then..." "...goblin, let me swallow for her then..." said the slot now in a whisper


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Old 12-23-2013, 01:16 PM
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repost from goblin's blog

another email to say that the goblin's mother swallows again, and although the event in itself had passed the family consensus upon this normally unasked question was just there now, squarely answered too, one that of if she couldn't eat for herself, then no one would force tube feeding upon her, "...and if that's this answer for my mother, then it would be the same for the others in the family..." said the goblin knowing that the responses was in itself a living will of their wishes for themselves here should they fall into the same situation that is, "...how the suffering of others just turns oneself inwards, thus the self grows by these moral dilemmas that they place upon one's heart it seems..." concluded the goblin before his work pulled him away, but at least the "what if it were me" question had been faced and answered here, where the rest was just fate now


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Old 12-26-2013, 06:08 AM
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reposts from elsewhere, the troll's "last post" thread

Santa does love little children
"...santa loves them, yet me I'm more perverse in my need to watch the american economy followed by the others, knowing that there's nothing left but to watch it happen..." mentioned the goblin thinking upon the wizard of oz and his green paper hot air balloon, adding "...we left the yellow brick road in 1972 under the nixon shock, today the balloon is very high up indeed and needs more hot air than ever to sustain itself, yet I suspect too, that the want within us all to still believe in the hype remains, just we don't want to admit what we actually know about these cycles of booms and busts..."


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