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  #4231  
Old 12-04-2013, 11:26 PM
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repost from elsewhere, the "your favourite punctuation and why" thread

"...looks like one can get away with murder when writing..." started the goblin, continuing "...just as long as one sticks firmly to one's broken rule throughout, the reader doesn't even notice after a while, for example you would think that this run-on sentence is something new here, but no, it seems the founding fathers and benjamin franklin in particular beat me to it by a couple of hundred years..."
hi fleamailman it is interesting you always start with ellipsis without space and end on the same
"...I use ellipsis not as such, but as inverted commas instead..." replied the goblin, adding "...that way I can simply differentiate between thoughts and speech and something in inverted comas...", while the narrator then thought "I don't know why I ever narrate for him now, nor how this forum puts up with him neither, I mean who ever heard of a goblin who chats with the hungry slot and to voices in the back of his head, or maybe they just hadn't noticed, perhaps no one "normal" ever reads this far", as she then filled in the bit about the fact that it was a cold night outside, the black of which only seemed to remind the goblin to put on the kettle once more, "...that reminds me, I think I'll put the kettle on..." mused the goblin while the narrator thought "one goblin for sale, brain somewhat unused and in near pristine condition by all accounts"


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  #4232  
Old 12-05-2013, 11:46 PM
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goblin's blog, stardate, years back

bomb scare at the airport, the goblin's bus got to deathrow where he was told "...so sorry you are not allowed in the terminal because you are not a transit passenger and non-transit people have to use the phone or internet to make their own arrangements...", the goblin went round to the another door at the other end of the terminal where, using a french accent, "..oui, I came form the exeter..." while stroking a non-existent mustache and juggling non-existent balls, enters, once inside the goblin got one of the last three seats for the last flight to geneva but that he would need to get to pratwick for it, so, grabbing a coffee and two bickys from the BA soup kitchen set up outside, the goblin eats half of one and gives up, pays for another bus ride and gives the second bicky to the bus driver politely suggesting that he eats it later, perhaps much later even, where upon arrival the queue resembles the yellow brick road, until finally at the desk the lady says"... would you like to put your keys, wallet, ticket and passport in this plastic bag, the rest we can put in the hold for you..." the goblin nods "...did you pack this bag yourself..." the goblin nods off "...any sharp object..." the goblin's head wobbles, gorps, etc., till she hands him the tickets, saying "...upstairs, follow the departure signs...", queues, queues, queues till finally on the plane the girls announces "...we are sorry for the delay but we have to remove some bags holdside of the people who haven't up...", thus, stuck on the plane with nothing to read, the goblin wonders why the woman even bothers to ask for one's attention while she explains the usual safety drill so the goblin then puts his hand up and asks "...excuse me miss, but what if the person next to me is a terrorist..."


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  #4233  
Old 12-06-2013, 06:26 AM
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("...well I never, either it's a ghost or my day has been made..." went the goblin seeing grace's return)

repost from the goblin's blog

18)bedtime and the goblin's mother has taken a bunch of grapes, plucked them and put them into a bowl where she sprinkles some sugar over them and some olive oil too topped off by soy-sauce, the goblin gets to the mix before she notices, washes the grapes clean and gives them back saying "...bon appetite..."

19)the goblin sits by his mother who is slowly going through the photo album that he brought to please her, she is very happy and explains the photo one by one while the goblin looks on, after about half an hour she comes to the last page and the goblin thinks that he has done his good deed for the day when she starts turning the pages in the other direction, you see he had forgotten that albums unlike books can be read both ways

20)the goblin wonders why on a peaceful sunday morning there has to be a half hour's peal of church bells, he doesn't notice anyone getting up so he supposes that it had to be done to remind everyone to wash their cars today, oh and to put out the black bags out tonight for the monday's collection

21)here as always it's rain beyond reason and the goblin watches the man on television talking about the present water shortage

23)the goblin had seen that he hadn't written in a while and yet he had been waiting for something wild to happen... um that wait grows longer it seems, english villages are not really known for it.


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  #4234  
Old 12-07-2013, 03:57 AM
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repost from the goblin's blog

5) oh and why o why, the goblin wondered, were the computer mags in the newsagents always on the very top shelf right next the girly ones, but always it was then "... excuse me, could you reach me down a copy of linux monthly next to bigbouncybonkers please...", the girl would then come with a readied brown paper bag and those disdainful looks that would somehow freeze fire




repost from the goblin's blog

7)today the goblin was sad because the great ork said "..thanks for really helping out this month goblin, go ahead take something from the shelf if you like.." as the goblin's last day there at the cave ended, he just took a USB key for keepsake and thought: "...no, I can take being dumped from one malware removal forum after another, banned from those writer's forums too, together with those edits and thread deletions then, but this is harder to deal with, as this is a debt to dailylife...", and either way then, it would be an airplane flight to rain'ile-sur-mer(britain) tomorrow, and that great wonders of wonders loonyville (london) and with that he knew too, that his next post to here would probably be from his childhood timeworp of dungford village in devon, "....well enough of these got to get ahead joe dunceheads here then...." the goblin voiced to himself, continuing "...it's time to cut the neat freak and dress down and gorp, yes that's it, we need to practice westcountry english once more like Izabegoingden therebecowsamilking, youzabereadingthispostyoube, etc., ..."

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  #4235  
Old 12-07-2013, 04:02 AM
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repost from the goblin's blog

"youzabe'speaking'westcountrydialectyoube", explained to normal people

"...I am sure that there are times when you have wanted to get in touch with you roots then..." said the goblin understanding that people of the new world had advanced the verb "to be" to its present day form, whereas those in the westcountry of england(devon for example) have probably retained their means of communication right back from those grunts and groans they had used in the stone age, thus to speak westcountry dialect properly one has to first focus on a primitive caveman and from there make a ranged backthroat sound followed by some simplified verb tenses, being, for creatures, "Izaba", "youzabe", "heszabe", "wezabe", and for objects "herezabe" and "therezabe", and finally where in any doubt "theyzabe", now for negatives the very flexible "ainnabe" together with the pronoun is simply used for everything...", the goblin paused for the next bit, knowing that he still had to explain how westcountryman had first mastered the verb, saying "...here again, all verbs are simply their gerund from, that is "to be" verb tenses followed by the continuous such as "going", "thinking", "spamming", etc. making it "izabegoing" or negative "I ainabegoing", lastly vagueness in westcountry dialect is expressed by the word "like", for example "izabe'smokingmagicmushrooms'like" and "youszabe'trollingthread'like", whereas absolute certainty is expressed by repeating the "to be" verb tense "izabe'smokingmagicmushrooms'Ibe" and "youszabe'trollingthread'yoube"...", and with that the goblin somehow felt that if some raging storm happened to ground one's airplane upon some rain swept island across from the civilized continent here, well the known world per say, the reader would now stand a better chance of survival since, he or she, could actually converse with the natives, just as long as they didn't either drink their coffee or eat their food that is


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  #4236  
Old 12-07-2013, 08:51 AM
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repost from elsewhere, the "dear santa, what's on your wish list" thread

"...me, no list then, no I just don't want my fear to become the reality now, where my reason acts like some ghost of christmas future to my speculations here, as if I were standing next to the grave of this present western hegemony as we know it, arrived at from an unsustainable economic policy of throwing good money after bad...' so the ghost then whispers in the goblin's ear the question "...so now goblin, just tell me how they can possibly tapper off this ponzi scheme without breaking the back of consumer confidence, oh yes, well they might diminish pumping out that liquidity a bit, just like they might turn off the pumps altogether a short while too, but they can't turn the pump off both completely and indefinitely too, why, because I'll name the monster for you goblin, it's all a fragile consumer confidence based upon an addiction towards low interest rates and endless liquidity, in short the good times can continue only as long as good money is being thrown after bad, but off course it's obvious that one can't compound debt with more debt, but who would care to admit defeat to themselves here...", at which point the ghost just pointed to the grave again, concluding "...oh yes, they all knew it at the time goblin, and everyone knows it still, just there is no such thing as new economics goblin, the outcome is as it has always been for all their hype otherwise..."


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  #4237  
Old 12-08-2013, 06:10 AM
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repost from the goblin's blog

next day of many, the organic coffee sits in the cup while the goblin sits in the shop, empathy but no convergence then as his earplugs cannot quite muffle enough the laughs and thrills the women are having as the drift of their conversation slowly passes from the traits of punters to shaving ones leg's, where the goblin dared not move and yet his mind still couldn't focus on his own thoughts about how to go about starting the computer self-help line in a place where the computers were like UFOs to them, as he the voiced "...Izabe goblin, Iva started Intergalatic spacecraft repairs self-help line like in dungford village that be, any problems with portal transportation, alien abductions, and time-travel emailza I on fleamailman@rain'ile sur mer.co.uk..." while his mind raced on in thoughts of those abductions, aliens, crop circles, other signs of the other world stuff then, "...ah, but of course, why that is it, the answer, now why didn't I think of that before..." exclaimed the goblin to himself going " ... I will put an ad in the parish magazine then...", drink-rings had developed in his coffee cup and an hour had passed as he warned himself not to think too much in future since that jumped the clock upon him but then again he just reminded himself that he was in dungford village where time didn't mean much anyway


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  #4238  
Old 12-08-2013, 06:11 AM
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repost from elsewhere

cold-spell casts geneva to fog, its gray somehow blurring into the blank and becoming an appropriate backdrop to this then: the goblin's D-day with the dentist, well not really, it's that first year dental student "... hi there, call me benny hill, please sit down, comfortable..." as he whips out a syringe with a smile and a style straight out Hitchcock's psycho shower scene "...now stay still, no need to clinch the chair tight like that, this will only take a moment...", smiles, looks puzzled, takes another look at the ex-ray, grasps the idea, nods his head, smiles again, stabs and injects "...there that wasn't too bad was it, now I am just going to clear out that cavity..." the goblin feels as if he is going very slowly up the highest roller coaster ride in his life, the student drills a bit, retracts to drill, makes golf swings in the air "...yes, like that I think, how am I doing..." the goblin dare not reply, he drills on "...rinse please mr. flea..." puts bibs and bobs the goblin's mouth, drills then whoops, out comes a small white gyrating object on the end of his drillhead "...whoops, sorry, we'll just put another cotton swab in then won't we...", but the goblin stupidly replies "... actually could we try a sandbag..." a joke which seems to earn him a gag they call a dig but is in fact an ancient chinese water-torture where goblins slowly drown in their own saliva while probably singing to themselves "...o come all yee spacemen...", ride over, the goblin returns to reality whatever that ever was


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  #4239  
Old 12-08-2013, 03:34 PM
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"Lalalala, lala, lala," the little mouse sings as she reclines on the sofa and happily stretches after some exercise. "Yes, with crapmas coming one cannot fully distance ones self from the madness of it all." She pats her stomach and smiles. "What to eat and when? What to wish for and from whom? And not entirely unimportant, will there be a brisk walk after Boxing day lunch?" Shaking her head she thinks of all the food accumulated in the cupboards.

A repost then, all polished and ready.


"... fell in the trap of the lure of 'three for two' and 'two for one'." The addictive soul the little mouse is got captured and the rucksack loaded to the max. Stood on the ledge it seemed not that heavy as her mind was burdened with a heavy load of guilt for this foolish behaviour. "For isn't it due to humans and their insatiable need to consume, to get the deal, save money, one of the reasons their world is being consumed? Chop down the forests! Humans need to grow corn. Not to eat, but to produce bio-fuel and save the planet. Or to keep cattle to feed the lust after fast food. Mac, The King and KFC. No! No saving there, destruction is more like it," she mutters and hooks the straps over her shoulders. Then took a light step forwards and nearly toppled over backwards. She would have landed on her back, braking the bottles of wine. Instead she managed to find some sort of balance. "What if humans could find that balance too. Even in this crazy season. Feeding their mouths in a reasonable way and not burdening their world. A balance which leaves room for the guilty pleasures of Western consumerism. Eventually stood, firmly packed, yet unburdened, she walked the long mile home. "See? As easy as pie," The little mouse smiles, proud of herself. She cannot evade the supermarket traps, but can save in her own unnoticed way. Just walk instead of drive and buy products local instead of imported. Then her stomach growls and she feels the weight of the rucksack pulling her down from the high she was on. "... how a grumbling stomach and an addictive mind makes a for a susceptive victim of the supermarket mafia." Once at home sat on the sofa, wine in hand and under the duvet she remembers the cheese and rises to check if there's still some left. "That wine was on sale, couldn't pass on the offer. But with wine I'd want cheese which wasn't on some special action and if not for the wine, the cheese wouldn't have been bought and already nearly polished off." Because this little mouse fell in the trap of false savings and ended up spending more than she'd really had to. She knew the supermarket mafia design their traps for humans to walk into and they do so happily, like she has proven yet again. "Just some dishwasher soap, bread, and milk. That was really all they needed, instead it became an overpacked rucksack and two carrier bags. "The greed buried in every human took over, or was it 'spend now save later' that make humans forget the only saving is found in not spending, but only buy what is truly needed." Startled by how stock piled the cupboards in the kitchen are she realises the amount of food within reach would last them weeks and nothing but milk and bread is really needed. "But that chocolate they had last night was very nice, maybe tomorrow they could get some more ...?"

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  #4240  
Old 12-09-2013, 05:10 AM
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("...very nice read, you sure have talent..." went the goblin)

repost from the goblin's blog

the goblin noted that the local swimming pool is now open three months of the year and whose owner who is always out to make it pay has come up with this novel idea "the family card" to entice the locals to turn up, yet the goblin also thought that perhaps the owner had over simplified things this time, after all in this village where everyone is related to everyone else, the pool owner will only have to issue one family card


xxxx
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  #4241  
Old 12-09-2013, 05:16 AM
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repost from the goblin's blog

the goblin wondered if someone here would care to proofread his letter to the Parish Council below

re: my ad in your rag then

Dear village elders,
Now I understand that having a green skin, pointed ears and a screwdriver might not exactly cast me as the type of person you would want to welcome with open arms to rain'ile's very own timewarp of a devon village but if you put your pitchforks aside for a moment, allow me to explain that I am setting up a free selfhelp line for computers and would therefore like to place a ad in your parish magazine amongst those ones for healthfoods, livestock, and God. I thought too, that it might be a good thing if we meet somewhere quiet where we won't be disturbed to discuss this further, so how about your church then.
Your sin.,
fleamailman


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  #4242  
Old 12-10-2013, 05:25 AM
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("...another week and my blog will be done I feel, thanks for keeping me company then, join in whenever, share your posts with me..." smiled the goblin)

from the goblin's blog

the goblin suspected that some posters here were not aware that the true function of this forum's navigation bar's was that of an embellishment to be admired rather than actually used, and like those buttons on the dashboard of the car or on the remote control too, they uplifted the user with the greater dimension of the endless possibilities that technology could offer one while remaining somehow too obscure for something as mundane as actual everyday usage, a conjecture reminding the goblin at this point of that childhood lessen bitterly learned on the quagmire of video recorder settings where those buttons seems to say "...touch me and you will not return...", but conversely, the goblin now lamented that his own quest for knowledge had turned magic into tricks, beauty into makeup, and paintings into calculated brush strokes, simply he wished the navigation bar to inspire him once more with greater buttons like "split the atom", "teleportation" and "converse with god" knowing that one's grasp should always be greater than one's reach, his reach being the "no, that's not right, why, how come, how does one get this thing to work" and then giving up somewhat belittled perhaps but ever remaining in aw of technology too


Last edited by fleamailman; 12-10-2013 at 05:34 AM..
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  #4243  
Old 12-10-2013, 05:38 AM
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repost from the goblin's blog

"...the action is the reward in itself.." murmured the goblin while hotly rubbing the hand of his mother between his hands, mind you by now he could have said anything, she smiled like a baby, long and slow, then dad would hold the straw to her lips, a sip, encouraging words like "...have some more, you know the more liquid you drink the better...", a tissue wiped the spillage and straw was returned to her mouth and the action repeated as everyone knows hospitals home are dry places, the goblin's mind raced back to ward a few weeks before and the unvisited toothless twitching woman on the next bed to his mother's, the nurse came to her with a cup of tea and a large needleless syringe and repeatedly squirted small amounts of the liquid from the cup into twitching woman's mouth, somehow they both seemed emotionless.


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  #4244  
Old 12-11-2013, 05:55 AM
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repost from elsewhere, the "your primary task today" thread

"...ours is to witness this end here..." went the goblin who too rendered unto ceasar as everyone must, but who never quite turned a blind eye towards him though, sighing "...clearly the individual can do nothing about the bigger picture in all its aspects, for one's vote is both outnumbered by the crowd and irrelevant if and where their agenda comes into to being regardless of whichever way one votes...", at which point the goblin looked down into his near empty coffee cup, before restarting again "...so ceasar runs the show today, where all that I have left within me is an ability to refute the facts as they portray them towards me, ah no, the workings of ceasar in our midst mustn't go unnoticed, where either you live on as some preoccupied sheep or as some gutted wolf, for awareness and happiness seem like a trade off for one another here, where perhaps awareness comes at the price of one's happiness, just pain to open the eyes each time, so much so that for me, just seeing through their lies becomes my primary task today, one beyond my mere survival, why, because neither my health nor my wealth nor my life are mine to keep, yet my awareness I take on with me to my maker..."


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  #4245  
Old 12-11-2013, 06:06 AM
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repost from the goblin's blog

drizzling, dungford village looked ever its primeval norm, where the goblin today had agreed to explain how to better use the computer to a novice since he somehow couldn't forgive the great ork boss of the computer shop for poisoning the minds of the yolkles, for no, computers could give a lot without costing much, "...well now..." started the goblin addressing her, continuing "...the concept is all rather simple in that you just have to imagine the same situation as in stargate where you are a symbayot and that your computer here is your human host then where your role is to give the comp good health and longevity in return for controlling it...", yet the woman reassured the goblin that she already knew that much as she had been married for years


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  #4246  
Old 12-11-2013, 11:35 AM
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Goblin, may I request for you to hijack posts and review them?
I always enjoyed it.
I think I should call you my Agony Aunt Goblin.
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  #4247  
Old 12-11-2013, 11:43 PM
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repost from elsewhere
Goblin, may I request for you to hijack posts and review them? I always enjoyed it. I think I should call you my Agony Aunt Goblin.
"...nah, I never critic anyone..." replied the goblin thanking the ravenness though while promising to keep those who posted here company, explaining "...yet for me this is not my thread, it's just somewhere where anyone can edit their posts into something more final than all this post and discard that you see around you at this point...", where the cold morning had begun in earnest, no its damp fog wouldn't clear he felt as things drifted in and out of view, just the goblin wanted the ravenness to become known by her posts too, smiling "...no rules to livewriting, no money in it neither, and only ever a few posts away from one's oblivion now, ah but if you know it's futile, and yet continue anyway, then doesn't all this just show you your tenacious nature, and besides I thought agony aunts were suppose to have the answers, where all I could ever offer you are yet more questions, but they say I'm good at listening though, and if you'd care to accompany me on this journey to self here then who knows what well come across..."


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  #4248  
Old 12-11-2013, 11:56 PM
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repost from the goblin's blog

the goblin's stay away from his mother was but short one, where once more he would make his way through the cemetery to the local tax-office probably thinking man, who is born of women has but a short time to pay taxes and although the congregation of the tax-office resembled that of a church, with the same ties, same feeling of absolution, same wiping of the slate clean, etc., only the god was different, whereupon the goblin then saw four horses pass before him in the reception, their being capitalism's promise of inequality, insecurity's promise of fear, poverty's promise of crime and resignation's promise of childlessness, and then wondered if this was the type of thing most people would daydream while waiting in the tax-office, "....anyway.." muttered the goblin to himself, continuing "..."tax here, death outside and god upstairs" should read the sign above the door then...", as the goblin, his dues duly declared now, dances merrily out of the tax-office into the cemetery again feeling absolutely absolved to the moneygod until the sobriety of just seeing so many gravestones stopped him with a thought, mumbling "...ah yes, it's funny how we build so much of our lives on some mere assumption of certainty...", the goblin quickened his pace homeward, somehow the clear winter's day now seemed deathly cold


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  #4249  
Old 12-12-2013, 12:46 AM
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Originally Posted by fleamailman View Post
"...nah, I never critic anyone..." replied the goblin thanking the ravenness while promising to keep those who posted here company, explaining "...for this is not my thread, it's just somewhere where anyone can edit their posts into something more final than all this post and discard that you see around you at this point...", the cold morning had begun in earnest, its damp fog wouldn't clear he felt as things drifted in and out of view, just the goblin wanted the ravenness to become known by her posts in her own way, smiling "...no rules to livewriting, no money in it neither, and only ever a few posts away from one's oblivion too, ah but if you know it's futile, and yet continue anyway, then doesn't all this just show you your nature, and besides I thought agony aunts were suppose to have answers, where all I could ever offer you are more questions, but they say I'm good at listening though, and if you'd care to accompany me on a journey to self then..."

I really cannot get enough of your rambles!
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Old 12-12-2013, 01:10 AM
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repost from elsewhere, the "seeking accountability parter" thread

"...welcome to writersbeat and perhaps to your future readers too..." smiled the goblin suspecting that one of the easiest ways of finding one's motivation was by starting one's own thread while setting oneself a tangible yet reasonable goal towards it, at which point the goblin felt it best to explain something else, so he restarted again "...me, I could never write as you writertypes seem to do, I mean writing months of stuff not knowing whether those readers would actually like it, for me the suspense would be too unbearable, so instead I do posts that have a hitcount reflecting their readership directly, where any writer worth his salt would soon figure out how to adapt his bookwork to postwork, much like dickens and doyle did back in their time when writing episodes and with cliffhangers in victorian journals, why, because who would begrudge their time for a quick read here, and apart from this, a high hitcount is a spur in itself isn't it, one that offers one a sense of audience coupled with a feeling of deadline too, that is to both writertypes, pauperpoets, and normal folk alike..", in fact, the goblin could point out that readers were increasingly turning up upon forums simply to see who was writing what then, just as he could also relate that as of yet few writers if any had tapped into this posting medium to its full advantage, however, since he also imagined that no one in their right mind ever read this far anyway, he just warned readers here to be very weary of those that did read this far then, saying "...well at least you haven't read this far have you, no I mean writersbeat does have some writing standards to maintain it seems..."


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Old 12-14-2013, 12:05 AM
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repost from the goblin's blog, written at the time, a dating site's "last post" thread

Why not start your own site and invite those you admire for their writing skills to join you
"...true, and as an idea it is sound enough, and yet knowing me I would still have to go in search of new forums for two reasons..." replied the goblin, thinking about those two now, continuing "...editing and airing, editing where in their reposting they are edited...", and then the goblin knew he had to mention the other reason too, while actually his mind was wondering how people in the west country here dry their clothes in all this rain, whereupon the sound of the television next door cut into his thoughts going "and now, introducing the all new ecologically friendly way of drying one's clothes anywhere near dartmoor, first wash and spin dry your garments as usual, then hang them out to dry for however long one cares for, then, while still damp that is, wear those clothes on one's person till finally dried out, then return them to the laundry basket and repeat process, oh, and don't even think about continental coffee" then returning to subject, saying"...no, the other reason is airing my posts like offering one's calling card, so that I can meet personas here, no not their real life counterparts, just their personas instead...", perhaps then, if there really is an author in all of us as they say, the goblin was just trying to meet those authors around him by doing these rounds here so to speak..."


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Old 12-14-2013, 12:53 AM
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repost from elsewhere, the "what does it take to be a writer" thread, and how to get banned from a writer's forum too

One must, however, understand the importance of proper punctuation of grammar, as the sole presence of a vocabularic mind or thesaurus will bring a writer nowhere. One may be a potential writer, but that one cannot become a fine writer if their writing lacks the charm of storytelling. It is difficult for a reader to comprehend when the words are welded together as a dictation or rant, with no apparent end to the madness. There strikes a fine line between continuous run-on speech and separation of thought. It is of improper style for an author to shove verbs that supposedly describes the verbal actions of the speaker in midst of their soliloquy. It is unnecessary to announce the speaker has recently "added" or "mentioned" or "noted", a sin especially amplified by the repetition of such unique words in such paragraphical proximity. The aforementioned is a common mistakes budding novella-type writers will make, often if they had not read a book that displays the correct usage of words. It hurts the eye of an experienced writer.
"...well yes, I guess writing correctly is how most people start out upon forumland, but then they wise up as reality strikes home and one quickly sees how people won't read those posts for their longish well written well meaning blandness, especially where they were then tucked away in some well meaning blog too..." replied the goblin, continuing "...so instead of me fooling myself by some blind adherence to some dunce mantra of good for books has to be good for posts too, something to date had utterly failed me, I decided to try out various writing styles till finally I settled upon this one, one which had an added bonus of hiding my age too, where now my posts are actually read, why, probably because I am not mistaken for the old fart I am, nor for some unapproachable finicky hair-splitting grammernazi...", in fact, the goblin liked livewriting and followed those very same rejected novella-type writers whose style seemed both questioning and imaginative, for theirs was the readership then, perhaps even moreso for their non adherence to those disappointing bookwriting rules, adding "...look, care to link me to a thread that has a high hitcount equating to readership written in the correct way you're suggesting, stuff written in ever so correctly worded posts complete with full paragraphs and full stops, etc, but till you can link me, you'll have excuse me just doing posts my own way for the results you so evidently see..."


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Old 12-14-2013, 01:37 PM
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repost from the goblin's blog

the goblin takes notes, the old lady who has invited herself down for a chat talks away relating how she has not talked to the butcher in years, to which the goblin's mother responds that she wasn't talking to the people on the other side of the hedge while the goblin, aloof to it all, thinks about the ork in the cavefront(computer shop) that the goblin no longer goes to, and just concludes that in this village one really isn't anyone at all until one stops talking to someone else


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Old 12-14-2013, 02:29 PM
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repost from elsewhere, the "I regret nothing/everything" thread

"...each useful feedback takes you one step further away from being yourself for some set norm instead, where no doubt if someone offered you such perfect advice that your works would then be perfect by it, then I suspect that you'd take that advice where I wouldn't..." smiled the goblin who just laughed at himself for the price that had to be paid here, continuing "...for where is there any individuality in writing so perfectly then, why if everyone heeded their reader's feedback, then sure enough, soon we'd all write like everyone else without distinction, just that one's imperfections does seem ever the price of one's individuality here..."


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Old 12-14-2013, 03:51 PM
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A repost from another place where a certain character could have benefitted from a bit of nuance.

"Speak for yourself, xxxxxx," says the little mouse, a bit miffed about his lack of respect for her professional capabilities. "Oh, but I forget we are supposed to be anonymous, right? Well, I am, and I am not," says the little mouse who says to xxxx, "Getting your work published is more often a matter of being able to handle rejection than instant success. It's good that you no longer shelf the rejected pieces but rework them to be better, much like xxxxxx himself reposts, rewrites, and improves the old posts he wasn't entirely satisfied with. But next time you think of submitting a story, think again and have a few beta-readers go over it to make sure it is ready to be published, because it could easily be you who, in his writer's mind, think it is perfect, while the unknowing reader finds the piece with fault." The little mouse empties her coffee mug and picks up her red pen to continue on the chore at hand. "just don't give up," she adds and smiles before going back to work.

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Last edited by luckyme; 12-15-2013 at 06:54 AM..
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  #4256  
Old 12-15-2013, 02:28 AM
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repost from the goblin's blog

that's it, the moment the goblin settles down to a morning in this lakeside cafe to write a wad of rubbish for this blogthread, his tinpot natel(cellphone) goes off to tell his that an alien in human disguise is arriving on the very next TGV. "...I mean really, just because I have done guidework in japanese, surely I don't now have to work for every tom, dick and ziggy-form-another-planet you know, and besides, where's the chief du protocol, the UN and the cocktail-&-canopies brigade...", but no incognito means muggins to the rescue as the goblin sets off into the sunset, well not quite, instead he cycles to the station at midday then

right, the goblin is in the station now, talking to himself "...um, anyone got any idea what to write on this signboard, I mean I can't just write "three eyed alien with zap gun", but then again distant creature invites "boy am I plum glad to see ya son, guess I kinda crossed the atlantic and you bet your butt I wanna get back", whereas superior being gets "oh I say, the native can write, these are my bags to carry and here is a bar of rain'ile's chocolate" - yuck, no thanks, best write something normal instead cosmos tours, done, hope he can read..."

ah this must be him "...hi there, you must be the extraterrestrial I've been asked to take to a nearby hotel on behalf of mankind and all that, follow me then, it is only a short walk...", he's worried and says "...wait earthling we haven't done the UN salute, people will notice, I will be found out, quick, I will just say the words and then you clap, got it, watch I'll show you how it's done..." the alien clears his throat(footnote: first rule of guiding - the customer is always bonkers but should be appeased), says "...the seeds of our organization's will to stamp out injustice wherever we see it are sown here, thank you...." the goblin then claps away, and yes, the alien's right as no one takes a blind bit of notice

so far so good, almost at the hotel and not once has a..., rats he she comes now "...well hello big boy, fancy a quick..., ..." the goblin ignores her but "...ah, you must be an earth dignitary come to show me, who is alien to these parts, the world..." a smile the length of the lake of geneva crosses her face, the goblin(footnote: the idea that she would reply to the UN salute "...no ducky all wills must be covered..." hasn't crossed this this narrator's mind, pity) is reminding himself of guidework's second rule(footnote: second rule of guiding - aliens are allowed to obliterate the world carrying off humanity into slavery as long as one can get home early), standard ploy time "...but your alienness there is an intergalactic email for you waiting at the reception..." while shoving him from behind "... but earthling I want to leave a deep impression on this dignitary...", a half nelson's alien is then seen pushed into the hotel

the sound of the automatic doors causes the receptionist to pop his head above his newspaper(footnote: in order to help those who are not used to a hotelier's terminology, appropriate translations have been added in brackets) "...hello, how may we help you(alright, what's your story)...", the goblin explains that he is a client of guidework first rule status, the alien says "...the seeds, etc., etc.,...", receptionist replies "...well spoken sir(we we have a right one here), would you care to fill this out while I'll see if your room is ready(right amuse yourself with this while I find a room), did you have a nice trip(say something to me because I am still looking) ah one of our better rooms(found something) is the form OK then(hurry up) ah an unpronounceable name, born star-year 61542, planet zog, intergalactic diplomat, etc., well I suppose that is OK(isn't OK) would that be cash or credit card then(your credibility is zilch)...", meanwhile the goblin looks out the window or at his watch. "...your room is 301 on the third floor, the lift is on your right(take your bags up yourself then) and have a nice day(out of my hair then), thank you(please)..."

the passing to the key to the alien signals the goblin's exit time where he, after saying goodbye to the alien, goes back to the station for his bicycle remarking "...well that was a right waste of time wasn't it, suppose I'll just head back to the cafe now to write something for my blogthread, ah but that's the trouble with geneva, I mean nothing really ever happens here..."


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Old 12-15-2013, 02:49 AM
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repost from the goblin's blog

"...something stronger than now remains..." and with this bland belief the goblin faced the life to come, somehow the goblin could not believe that all this had no point, of the caring then, and of his mother's dementia in the ebbing of the remaining time, no all this should at least mean more than just "now", so perhaps the goblin should have said "...something stronger than me remains..." but it was hard for the goblin to imagine a future without a "me" or a "now", in other people perhaps but not in himself, instead his vanity invented loopholes that his reason couldn't accept, and where no doubt, goblins seemed no different from the rest of us

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x4gXqWY1NzI


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Old 12-15-2013, 09:54 AM
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Love this picture!
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Old 12-15-2013, 12:41 PM
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repost from elsewhere

"...well, a controversial title is always a good start, even if it just gets readers to take interest.." proposed the goblin trying not to think upon the cold street outside where the shadow of snow hung over everything, but continuing "...yet the reader will also look at other factors too, such as whose thread, it's hitcount,and the number of replies too, all meaning that the more your persona becomes known, and thus trusted, the more people will follow you towards your other works if so enticed...", so the goblin never tagged threads, instead each post he did had to be as to a benchmark of self then, adding "...for idle banter it is not, I mean who doesn't turn up here without some wish to feed now...", "...what's feeding then goblin..." asked the slot again, to which the goblin just smiled to the words "...just correspondence perhaps, feeding by reading and feeding by writing too...", the snow had started, the goblin quickly prepared his exit plan from here, no he didn't mind the snow falling just he never knew when it would stop


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Old 12-15-2013, 12:51 PM
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Microsoftious
I met a broker of the Wallstreet brand
who said: Two vast and worthless piles of stock
lie crashed upon the ground. About them, near to hand,
now shrunk, these tattered credits lies, that shock,
of bloated slips whose sure and bold command,
tell that their author well those passions read,
which yet survive, scribbled on these worthless things,
the hand that believed them, and the heart that bled,
and upon their cardboard box these words appear:
"my name is Microsoftious, Share of Shares:
look upon my works, ye wealthy, and despair!"
nothing beside remains. Round the decay
of this colossal crash, boundless and bare
the blown and leveled brands stretch far away.

-fleamailman-

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