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  #6181  
Old 08-12-2018, 12:30 AM
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repost from jat's place, a reply reflection to Grace's above post



"...very hard to say which way I'll go on this Grace, agreed your advice is something I hadn't thought of before, it is something that I am now thinking upon now, indeed I might have to do just that when the time comes, the question is do I know when that time is..." replied the goblin not wishing to push the matter as it stands, then adding "...first her cancer must run its course in either sparing her or taking her, during that term though I will be a model husband I promise lest I blame myself afterwards...", whereupon the goblin's mind fell back on the line leave it in god's hands, yet see his intent therein, whereupon the goblin restarted by saying "...life is ever this journey to death isn't it, though I prefer to change that to my journey to self within that context there, this year I have journeyed much inside, yes hard to recognize that me before this to the me I stands before you now, so the question is "am I prepared to go it alone then, or instead am I more likely to have that alone come to me then", in god's hands I leave it be..."


xxxx 6180 477855


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  #6182  
Old 08-12-2018, 02:39 AM
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repost from elsewhere, chatting to Grace


"A storm then", Grace wrote, now realising why she had felt so wired all morning. And the lightning was like a network of fluorescent veins pulsing in the sky as the thunder sonic-boomed and reverberated around the hills. It had gone dark so quickly - the rain pounding and slapping the ground in violent release - Grace framed in the doorway, captivated by it all. "Are you all right Flea?", she asked, wondering if it was win,lose or draw for him and his captain today...x
"...well yes and no..." replied the goblin explaining "...it's ever like blackmail still, that is that one just doesn't know when, if at all, nor by how much neither, so she's doing fine for now but "fine for now" could mean anything really..." where today was her second dripfeed of poison, it was the evening time where she has just related to me that this time around it feels worse, and where her real reaction starts tonight through into the morning, sighing "...well, I can do nothing bar comfort her and sit around too, no I won't leave her side but I'm not in control of the outcome any more than she is, and that "what would happen if I break" fear is ever present within me, just stiff upper lip pretense all round I guess, ah yes, for the world of adults is ever one of these white lies again, btw thanks for doing that great post on Jats's thread there, you've always been a constant support Grace, your posts are real reads proven time and time again, and give the littleman a big hug for me too..."



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  #6183  
Old 08-14-2018, 04:09 AM
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repost from elsewhere


the goblin read the posts liking the outburst there, then returned to own thoughts, saying "...you're right about one thing, it's hard being in limbo like this, my life is on hold then, where has it is what it is then my wife has two and half years on average, let's say five years at the upmost, where me I doubt that I have ten years left now, no I thought that we'd relax in our retirement, not that I ever planned upon stopping really there's no retirement in my profession one just works at work or gets bored at home, but it just looks like our lives now will come to an abrupt end instead, I feel sorry for my wife who is five years younger than me, plus I feel sorry for myself too, just a growing sense of duty takes over now, no I must outlive her, I mustn't fail in this neither, just a life held to ransom then where that "sense of blackmail" as it were is ever there now..."



xxxx 6181 478267

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  #6184  
Old 08-14-2018, 04:16 AM
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repost from elsewhere


at which point the goblin was not sure what to make of romantic ladies, explaining "...the one I love has a band of man that she has eating out of her hand, me I'm probably the only really old guy among them though plus I made it clear from the beginning that I would never be unfaithful to my wife, instead I asked her to choose the church, something that means nothing really if I am still married though, however on those days that we meet at work I usually give her a packet of cigarettes, something that she hates me doing even if she never refuses them neither, simply it points out the truth that she lacks money for all her antics, antics mind you that I love for that keeps me feeling young by it, yes she could just as well hate me, and yes I do love her, but whatever I feel it's still tempered with the notion that one should help people move up in life, not smother them in blind kindness, yes there's no fool like an old fool, but maybe I'm not quite as foolish as I might seem, still it's nice to feel those foolish things that old folks don't..."



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  #6185  
Old 08-14-2018, 05:17 AM
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repost possibly, maybe - fiction thread

anna sat fidgety ‘I don’t comment babe because I don’t feel equipped to comment, I have understanding and competence in a different field where I would naturally give feedback if requested and that chat would normally take the guise of asking the right question of the enquirer. In any field dialogue can become too precious, political correctness within a circle, inward looking - so I also appreciate the novice can provide something awkwardly valuable. If you get skilled enough in any field you can lose the thread, lose sight, lose the plot.’ ... anna was lucky enough to have been somebody’s novice and sat rather dumb struck in the eyes of a formidable creative talent who insisted on the feedback of the ill equipped - or so it had appeared to her. But she understood what he had done back there now. She began again ... ‘Maybe I needed to understand that he was - at 21,000 words and much comes out - before I begin the reading of it ...’ she giggled in a ball of silly ‘maybe that is something said by a novice, shrugs.’ He didn’t turn but he heard her ... ‘I think this is a superb place, I don’t think people get quite how it is, not sure you get a good view from within something, need to be an outlier to see - glad you have used the space and hope others contribute. Love you.’

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  #6186  
Old 08-14-2018, 05:58 AM
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("You've got a superb eye for picking the right pictures anna", Grace nodded approvingly, hugging her now as it had been awhile.)

Repost from Jats' place:

And Grace slipped in - looming up behind him to circle his waist in her arms and drop a soft kiss on his neck. "You're my tea-break", she smiled, slick with perspiration and as grubby as a farm-hand. "I'm ripping up the carpet", Grace yawned - cheered by the signs of Jats making tea now. "Poor old Baggy never fails to void his bladder at the sight of a cat-carrier. We thought we'd got it covered - lifting him in with a towel wrapped around his hind-quarters, like he was off to a Turkish sauna." Grace nodded and beamed her assent to the offer of a biscuit, "and that worked..but he went in head first...and I lumbered out with the cage, not realising he was firing a couple of gallons through the cage door as we went". And Grace reached out for the mug with both hands, "Ooh..champion", she said in her deepest navvy voice, crossing her legs now to cradle her mug with all the reverence of a peace pipe. "So I've just worked it in plough strips", she told him, "scooting the furniture three foot along to cut and remove a strip, then sliding it back to its original position." And Grace offered her left hand, like a kid, to show two deep prongs on her finger that could pass as a snake bite. "Bloody carpet-grippers", she grumbled, happy to let him baby her wound because it felt kinda nice. "Oh I sacked my little helper", she laughed, who was banished to the garden with a neighbour-kid - Grace's neat bales of carpet now fashioned into the humps of a BMX track. And Grace drained her cup and scrambled over to Jats' lap like an exuberant puppy, delighted to be squeezed and laughing as he plucked old underlay spores from her hair. "No peace for the wicked", she said, reluctantly escaping his grip and thinking she best crack on in case the rain came. And Grace accepted his proffer of more suitable tools - her frenzied efforts with a bread knife, scissors and a kitchen slice now met with deserved derision. "I'll bring them back", she promised, striding off with purpose "after I've had a shower", she tossed over her shoulder, heading for the gap in the hedge that served as the portal between their worlds then..
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  #6187  
Old 08-14-2018, 12:26 PM
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A repost from Jats' place - Grace indulging in online dating now...more 'log on' than 'swipe right' really...

And Grace was back - another version of her now - looking elegant in a diaphenous, button-down cream shirt and tailored shorts the green of peacock plumage. And her hair smelt of apples and her perfume smelt expensive as she slipped through the tipi flap - loose-limbed now...all her kick-arse tautness expended on her day's labour. And her smile was more Mona Lisa than cheshire cat - as if her heels had reminded her she was a woman, or perhaps it was the man in front of her. A little jewellery tonight - hunted for at length before she came, it'd been so long since she'd worn any. Just a simple silver teardrop pendant on a longer chain - diamond stud earrings exchanging prisms of light with her eyes. The quiet Grace - happy to stand for far too long in the centre of that tipi in a tender embrace - gentle fingers drawing circles on his flesh as her hands slid up beneath the layer of cotton to feel the warmth of his back. And Grace finally pulled away, staring into his eyes earnestly. Her eyes flicked to the bed as she whispered "I want romance tonight". And as Jats reversed back she walked towards him, slowly unbuttoning her shirt with trembling fingers - whether nerves or Nescafe, she wasn't sure. Third button down and her hand slowly slid inside the folds of opened silk - the outline of her hand like a monstrous spider over the swell of her breast. Tugging hard, she pulled out a small, leatherbound book from the depths of her bra cup. "I thought I'd read you Keats", she whispered, unable to stop the corners of her mouth twitching, "I know you want poetry". And Grace abandoned her deadpan as his snort and lurch towards her said the jig was up now - Grace jumping on tiptoe with the book raised above her head so it couldn't be confiscated nor used to paddle her backside. "Seasons of mists and mellow fruitfulness", she read, squealing as she tried to evade capture and continue her recital. "Close bosom friend of the maturing sun", she spluttered, reversing into canvas and giving way to helpless laughter. And Grace was forced to quit as the book sailed out of the open tent flaps and his hands shackled her wrists to drag her towards the bed - heels dug in like a stubborn donkey, giggling and resisting in mock protest. "Pearls before swine", she snorted, calling him a heathen and more as one hard tug from him landed her like a gator on a swamp boat. And Grace snaked her arms around his neck, looking up now as he loomed over his captive. " I'm no Elizabeth to your Darcey", she smiled, eyes locked on the mouth she wanted to kiss, "I think we're more Scooby Doo and Shaggy". And the scene faded as dusk gave way to darkness, and Grace herself came to, and found herself still kneeling in front of a washing machine, so many miles way...
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  #6188  
Old 08-15-2018, 12:40 AM
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anna padded in clutching all kinds of paraphernalia ‘nearly that time of year again babe and you’ll be ok won’t you - plenty of posts in the larder and I’m always within reach really’ she giggled ... ‘I mean I always was, like you to me ...’ She sat down suddenly in the middle of it all, peaceful, sharing the moment and he secretly liked - out of the corner of his eye to watch her mind drifting on a prevailing breeze lapping, idle, tacking gently until scooped up and cavorting along on some invisible current to a different place in the plotting of the picture. She grabbed an old treasure from her middle mess. ‘A repost for Grace then’ she called - waving eyes moist with smiles and his mind was left bobbing about all commotion ... Ba da-da da-da da-da, feeling groovy.

repost

anna sat down on a timeless beach, they had ventured way beyond to find the rope swing and play in the woods awhile. That pebble paradise was an ancient pocket where she chose a moment to still her life - to hear the beat upon the shore and along the arc of the difficult to walk she stumbled across one, a word etched finely there and cupped within the sea of millions - write.



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  #6189  
Old 08-16-2018, 02:13 AM
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repost from elsewhere chatting to anna

"...well anna, it boils down to "for the sake of the family" each time doesn't it..." replied the goblin who knew he wouldn't act on this one way or the other during her recovery still, confiding "...now I'm alive again, but I've been dead a while now, simply when I had to look after my ailing mother for one and a half years, I suppose it was too much to ask the situation to return to being physical after that, though I tried for it for a while, failed, and we hadn't touched since, not even a kiss in all so many years, but there was always the family and our mutual need between us to see that they were well brought up and cared for, so that "for the sake of the family" kept things ticking along, meanwhile I was more online as myself inside than the old man was in his dailylife, in other words "the old man and his goblin" were a ventriloquist's act though which one was really the dummy was hard to point out, anyway turning back to the present time, for the moment I leave all this in god's hands, or fate's for the non believer, where I suspect too that if she lives then I'll live on within the ventriloquist act as signaled by her survival, yet if she does die then I will be on the market rather than live alone by myself, but to be honest and given my narcissist traits too, I could just as easily live on my own now , I mean in a way I've been on my own already for years..."



xxxx 6189 478671

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  #6190  
Old 08-16-2018, 02:14 AM
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"Tipping down", Grace wrote, listening to the cascade in the gutters. And Old Faithful had retired to his basket in disgust, whilst Little Man gleefully declared it a pyjama day - full-on animated this morning and wanting to discuss a documentary on plastic surgery that had slipped into his consciousness without censor whilst Grace was cooking dinner. "They're like our bean bags we have on sports day", he marvelled, now fully conversant with breast augmentation, "and guess what Mum?", he announced with a drum roll, "you can EVEN get a plastic vadge now". And Grace had looked up and enquired if they were dishwasher safe - a beat whilst he scanned her face for humour, before scampering off with the promise he'd go and find out for her. And the cats were prostrate and pleasantly stoned in the centre of the rug, liberally spritzed with catnip spray which he'd pumped around the room like air freshener - Grace sipping her coffee now and sensing a slow morning ahead...
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  #6191  
Old 08-16-2018, 02:36 AM
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well anna could speak for the three of them then in that each was authentic to themselves. Who wouldn’t wish for Grace’s fluidity of the pen then and flea’s mastery of self observation, just words on a page, virtual acquaintances. And to articulate was a formidable tool useful in the real when stuck between the unwieldy and the unyieldingly so, yes the written word had saved anna from many scrapes where the severity and complexity of the situation had left her unable to find her voice, silenced and summoned. ‘This here is self empowerment and it takes courage to give it a go, and another thing, if you can begin to bring about a truth within yourself then the written matter you are toiling over will start to shine right out of this virtual page and strike a chord in the face’

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  #6192  
Old 08-17-2018, 02:11 AM
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repost from elsewhere, another livewriter

Pleased to meet you, fleamailman, you both, I mean. The inner and the outer you, or parts of you, or parts of parts, the hidden and the seen - or presented - I should say. Expressed. That’s the word. The unseeable remains unseen. A privilege indeed we all do share. Although I’m not too sure where the two do meet but I might as well stay long enough to greet the part you bare. Or dare to reveal. Dare I, I ask myself, embark on an unending venture? An adventure even. Like Alice. A rabbit hole within a rabbit hole, within a deep and unknown place, the depths of which know no end - for knowing is the beginning, they say, and nothing less. And Grace, of course, my favourite name. I am pleased to meet you too.
"...welcome indeed, so you're another one of us by looks of things..." smiled the goblin always liking to meet for want of a better word a livewriter here, just someone who writes in their posts, then restarting "...Jats, Grace, and I, go back years now, where I'm always honest about my feeling at least, if not about personal details though, I mean there's no much point in giving one's alter ego full sway in the guise of a goblin persona on the internet here if one isn't totally honest with oneself while at it...", in fact, the goblin wife, whom he called the captain, had colon cancer, "pt4a without", while the goblin himself had an infatuation with a workmate who was still there but thankfully was distant now, explaining "...the old man is always dutiful and considerate towards the captain, the goblin inside him sees this and approves on the one hand while understanding too that events are slowly overtaking them both, where at its simplest then the old man in order to live through his demise of the captain had decided that he must turn his body back to how it was many years before, meaning a stronger thinner handsomer old man then, to which one unenvisaged side effect had been the release of his libido too, a libido that had been suppressed under his chubby torso and by those many years of verbal/physical rejection rightly or wrongly from his spouse, simply I had gone along with this thinking I could express myself online here, while the old man rightly denied himself there, just "madame bovery" perhaps save that in this instance madame bovery escapes her fate and lives on...", at which point the slot just gobbled down the post before the goblin could continue suspecting that it was just too long for most readers


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Old 08-17-2018, 02:25 AM
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repost from elsewhere chatting with Grace



The effects of chemo get scarey, the further into treatment you go", Grace wrote, remembering her own increasing terror at the weight loss and steady incapacitation with both her Mum and her best friend, "of course, no two treatments or reactions are the same but I want you to remember what I've said - save yourself the sickening sense of dread that I went through. And Grace knew she was covering old ground here, but still wanted to stress the importance of flushing the captain's system as quickly as possible. "As many fluids as you can coax into her Flea - and pomegranite juice is extremely effective", Grace wrote. And Grace remembered the hours she spent trawling medical journals and cancer studies, collating as many weapons as she could to combat the disease. "It was my coping mechanism", Grace explained, who had a natural tendency to turn into General Patten when any obstacle arose. "I guess it just gives me a sense of control", she admitted - knowing full well that if you dropped her down into a deserted mine shaft, she'd likely sit and methodically chew off her hair to carefully plait into the slimmest possibility of a rope - "action, however futile, empowers me", she shrugged. And Grace reiterated the all important word antioxidants again - "anything that will empower the captain's immune system to dispel the toxic medicine and enhance her cells' ability to eradicate the cancer spread", Grace typed, speeding up now in a bid to say more yet still pretend brevity. "Vitamin C isn't stored in the body", she hammered, "up to 20,000 mg a day has proved wholly effective in treating cancer on its own". And Grace stopped - sitting back to chew her lip and search her memory for what would have supported her in those dark days. "Love you Flea", she re-started , "and I know you'll do right by the captain, and do it well and willingly...and you ARE doing well", she promised, both proud of Flea and his choices in all this. "And as much as I can do is distract you on the thread", Grace wrote, "a few minutes in my life to escape from it all - some nonsense and teasing to make you laugh then". Yet Grace hoped he would remember she was here for the ugly stuff - always watching for a PM and here to talk if needed then. "You're a good man", Grace wrote, sleeves rolled up and walking beside him now a helpful ghost if ever there was one. xx
"...it's just so uncertain still, no she looks and acts well enough for someone under chemotherapy, yet I feel unable to lift my spirits high lest she sickens, and unable to abandon them neither lest she survives, so it's this constant limbo, a shadow however small that blackmails and hang over this present, leaving us making plans in case of either outcome, something all masked by a facade of reassurances too, so that's my time at home now..." responded the goblin who by contrast used work as if as a welcome playground of escape, home if anything was the constant classroom of "life held to ransom", relating "...she's like you, she takes very good care of herself, commanding me to touch those cold surfaces that she now can't, do more and more housework, where for example we talked all the way to the coop today but even that seemed too much as she's back in bed asleep now, anyway, and at any rate too the price she pays the blackmailer is still livable with, it's just the type of blackmailer she addresses that daunts us both behind our masks here..."



xxxx 6192 478859

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  #6194  
Old 08-17-2018, 12:35 PM
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And Grace appeared - so quietly - sitting down next to Flea with those soft, muted movements of joining a priest to kneel at the altar. "Hey", she whispered, finding his hand and looking straight ahead now - not wanting to intrude on his thoughts by looking into his eyes. And Grace stayed silent, occupied with things that needed neither voice nor answer. She thought it was somehow like living in war time for Flea - that acute sense of being alive and grateful for it - yet that constant uncertainty which whispered its "live today fully - who knows what tomorrow will bring." And Grace sighed and put her head on his shoulder, hearing his silent scream I'm alive!, I'm alive! as the chain to his mental millstone twisted more with each dance step. And Grace felt a stab of pain that made her squeeze his hand and just say "shush now - you'll come out of this." And Grace looked around, suddenly aware that they were sitting in the grey, concrete coccoon of an air-raid bunker - both young and wide-eyed with fear in their khaki uniforms. And she gripped his hand tighter as an explosion shook the wall that they were leant against and brick-dust powdered their hair. "Eventually it will stop", she told him firmly, "and we'll pick through what survived and reckon what was lost..come to terms with it..and build once more". And Grace fell silent again, still holding his hand tight - nothing more to offer than her own warmth next to him, in this cold, dark recess of his mind.
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