the last person to post here wins

"In this moment...when my death rushes to mind, i would love to disappear into a book" the spirit whispers. "ah to disappear...it sounds lovely in this moment..."

(the goblin would also be last to post here, it too, had something to do with the short time alloted one)

Quote :

My comment was about untimely death, as the last year ended with that and sadly the new one began with that too. Which gave me cause to remember other untimely deaths, of lives cut short.............

the goblin just repeated "...funny, how often it turns into some a trade off then, that is, of some newfound sad awareness replacing ones previous sleepy happiness here, and how one wishes it just to be otherwise too, and feels somehow cheated in the exchange then, only that it has happened and one is awake by it, aware then, simply reminded that life owes one nothing here..."

xxxxx wrote:

fleamailman wrote:

repost from elsewhere, a native american "last post" thread

that a powerful intellect, indebted to literature and poetry, feeling that fate had offered him this role of sending off to the next world a white man called William Blake, an action of no logic, nor self interest, nor personal gain, just something seeming right to himself here..." um... William Blake and Native American Indians? Wow my history skills suck I guess... or something was totally missed elsewhere...

"...yes, in the film, that native american in brought up by whites, and although he is over shadowed by johny depp as the dying white man here, the story is really about someone being moved by something alien to oneself and ones culture now, it is mirrored in its way by "dance with the wolves" where it is the white man in the dilemma of crossing cultures again, but perhaps the parallel ends there then..." mentioned the goblin who also noticed how often the native american, being thought of as more spiritual than the white man, is portrayed as an angel of death, as in such films like "one flew over the cuckoo's nest", "deadman", and others


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("...last one for now then..." said the goblin)

repost from elsewhere

Quote :

I'm scared and I'm lonely and I'm sad. And I don't like it.
Anyone got a spare hug?

"...see it for what it is, and you will find yourself here..." replied the goblin who was always alone, or perhaps more truthfully who understood it differently saying "...death is a funny friend you know, how he just slaps all the cheapness out of one now, reminding me at least that people die all the time, that they leave partners, beauty, riches, education, family, parents, children, places, in fact, those people leave everything and anything in their arrival at self here, life is a "journey to self" then is it not, but no, everybody is so much more concerned about the trappings of "dailylife", and those trinkets of the moneygod here, that they don't notice their actual journey till it's too late, whereas those who notice their journey understand that they had nothing, that they were always alone too, even when things came near and other people were around them, so why do you feel sad when you still have "the journey to self" now, who wins here, you yourself, or your "dailylife" with that moneygod again, are you still on your knees to them then I wonder..."

"To disappear would be lovely still and so today our word is disappear. what is it to disappear? is it to be no more, to not exist. or is it to be hidden, to sneak though life unknowable. If so would that not mean that those deemed unimportant, invisible to the common eye, would be 'disappearables' as I shall call them." the spirit mused as she went on, her voice getting stronger and the morbid thoughts of her mind lifted her from her small pocket of depression. "Oh to be invisible would be lovely also! for it is one and the same. and those who are disappearables and invisables are most blessed. Why? Pray why you ask? Simple. They are the freest of us all."

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

the goblin was hating his past at this point, simply his ghosts were either of happier moments, or they were of vile ones, yet either way, they never returned nor disappeared, never to be relived nor to die outright that is, they just haunted and taunted the goblin now, "...seems the older one gets, the more painful they become..." mentioned the goblin at it


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in fact, the goblin sharpened his mind with coffee and WIFI, his life was a fight to reach in and drag "it", whatever "it" was, out, only that umpteen trivial calculations relating to "dailylife" got in the way, the goblin had to keep reminding himself at times that one has to "live life" and not have "life living one", saying "...honestly at times I can feel myself simply disappearing into the woodwork of some easy life of personal gain...", somehow that image of those boys being turned into donkeys in the book "Pinocchio" sprang to the goblin's mind now save that the goblin was a grownup at this point but the temptation remained

"Aye, the longer one lives the longer the pain is and thus the harsher it is. No matter how strong one is you can never get fully accustomed to pain. Life is pain. But take it from one such as I, should you live in death, the pain gets graver."

("...phew..." went the goblin fearing that spirit next word would have been stuffed "aardvark" then, but the spirit was the goblin's mentor now, for he would never let her win last place for long he promised)

the goblin had been admiring the wet weather, like a toad on a toadstool, simply that today too promised to be dull at best, as he readies himself for the same old tour to the mountains under those now all too familiar ominous rainclouds again, the goblin, lifting his spirits to the occasion, starts singing "...I'll be going through the motions when it rains, I'll be going through the motions when it rains, I'll be going though the motions, going though the motions, going though the motions, I'll am going though the motions she pours..." to an onlooking day, who is not really impressed, while the goblin's "song against the weather" continues throughout, somehow leaving the only real question as to who would break first, "...ah but I have the advantage of the Internet..." smirked the goblin against the grayness above


6

"In truth, I do not like the internet" whispered the spirit though she knew her words where hypocritical since such as this very place belonged to her. "Hmm...I think wrongly I must confess. for a moment i though this place mine!" she laughs softly as if her sound smothered by dust. "No no this place is not mine! It is for all, that is why it twas created. To want it as mine own, such is beyond selfish. and yet i clam all who are here as my own. why? simply because each who posts here becomes the speaker of the place, the child of the place that hopes only to sculpt them into something wondrous. And i, as mother and birther of the place, see all whom it see's as child, mine own child. So odd it is!" she laughs again as she smirks herself.

("...then I will accept you motherhood now..." replied the anonymous goblin, for all that remains of me, are a few words and some pictures here, for I am of the internet and die within it now)

any "word", once written, lives on adrift the Internet where, sooner or later, one came across it again thinking "...oh yes that was me then too..." before moving on to the next "word", so perhaps for that reason alone no one can ever really have the last word, the word has only itself, as in infinite, against the short span that it was looked at, "... no not "who has the last word" it's "which word had the last person viewing it"..." ventured the goblin to a sea of infinite words to choose from now


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"...no, I am not in..." whispered the goblin, whose his mind had starting tiptoeing around from under that fained "very interested in dailylife" facade which the goblin usually wore towards the outside world, that is, the outside world today being some snow cold reality of a mundane existence where his "dailylife", and that moneygod, no doubt demanded their dues as ever, ah but on the inside the goblin just pretended not to be in, repeating "...who knows, if I am quiet long enough they might think there's no one home and forget me..." but no, somehow this deception never lasted long enough the goblin felt, as invariably "time" discovered the goblin's mental whereabouts and then just opened the latch yet again to the outside world, letting it all kind of gatecrash the goblin's all too tranquil state of denial here, "...I am not in..." the goblin repeated and repeated but those seconds were growing dangerously close now


6

The spirit suddenly rose up, taking solid like form and appeared before the goblin in a shocking movment. "tell me, what is humanity to you" she whispered as if she wished for even he not to hear her. "what is all this of which you seek, what is the life of which you seemingly live. share with me the knowledge that you keep with in the mind capsule of yours" her ghosty eyes grew keen with the word 'knowledge' as it was and forever would be the only thing she wanted and craved.

("..ah, now I have written much on that then..." replied the goblin)

repost from elsewhere, the "afterlife" thread

the goblin turned up, and then explained "...in life, there is only this "journey to self" here, that you can know of for sure, in that, some people will talk about lots of things that make sense attaching still more things they will ask you to believe in, even as far as to offer you an eternal reward or punishment depending on whether you accept their given line as the truth about your afterlife...", somehow the goblin knew that the next bit was harder but he continued "...so imagine the first of two choices, that you accepted their argument to its full, and did exactly as told to because that reward or punishment that was coming later, now what would that tell you about yourself and how base you are then, simply your actions would be based on self advantage here, something like taking out a mortgage on heaven perhaps, every good action you did would be some contribution towards that mortgage then, wouldn't it...", so the goblin just offered the second choice by saying "...now imagine the other choice, that all your actions good or bad were based on your own judgment of them, no expectation, nor reward nor punishment here, just you knowing yourself by what you do, well if you can imagine these two choices clearly then, and can still choose the latter of the two, thus defying any notion of God, or the Devil and anything else for that matter, saying "I do not look to reward in my actions, the actions are the reward in themselves", then for an eternity you could hold you head up high and look your maker in the eye, saying "well, you may not like my choices but at least I was, as honest to them then, as I am to you now"..."


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the goblin just said "...my "dailylife" and this "journey to self" are two different things for me, the one can accept that there has to be a cut off point, as in "letting go", "a season for all things then", whereas the other is much more like a its namesake, simply a journey that doesn't end...", the goblin could never really stop his journey now, if only because the thoughts came to him much like a musician hears music in the back of his mind ingrained after a session, he continued "...actually, none of this has any meaning in the context of the "dailylife" then, I mean, I am anonymous, there's no reward, sites come and go, members too, moreover, these "last post" threads are about the most impermanent thing that I know of, so it's all just a masked ball played out on this vast sea of the Internet, is it not, yes but once you know that, then what you actually do from there, reflects who you really are to yourself, doesn't it, reason enough to post on then I guess..."


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"I wonder what life was like back then." whispered the spirit. "where things dull and boring? I mean how could man exist without such things as we have now! haha it must have been so dull. or, perhaps, it was much better than it is now. perhaps it was beautiful and fulfilling. who knows. no one ever shall" she said as she thought back the paintings in her mind of things before the horrid such of 'humanity'.

("...different post, same picture..." went the goblin, saying "...I take it you're a brit then, hope you steptoe and son then...")

the goblin could relate and remembers too, growing up in the hardship of those BBS boards days, the wretched hours waiting to get on line too, and even then only being allowed to write a short text for that crippling telephone bill, and having to wait days before anyone replied too, "...why we didn't ever have an avatar and signature in those day, yes, it was incredibly tough, with users living three or four persons to a computer, I mean can you imagine our elation at just receiving a text from the other side of the world reading "no speka di lingo greengo", yet we never complained..." mentioned the goblin at it now

("...or it was like this this then..." went the goblin)

repost from elsewhere, the "mildly kinky or just perverse" thread

"...erotic morris dancing, church fate romps, party political pub crawls, and nude carol singing again..." mentioned the goblin with such fond memories, adding "...ah yes, those were the days weren't they..."

"A brit?" question the spirit slightly confused and amused all the same. "alas I am many a thing and many a thing i've forgotten. Living after death takes away all the unimportant things, the things you take for granted. For instance, one of the first to go is your very name. now i pray you to remember that imagination can subside and follow you so that as you do upon 'user names' of a site create alternate knowinces, so to can you in death but still all the same you will certainly forget that which was giving at birth. things you will not forget, perhaps never forget, are the pains you felt. sadly the happinesses after them can sometimes follow quickly after a name."

i noticed....if i last here post, arent' i a winner? i have been winning along side you for quite some time now.......RAWRZ

("...welcome sage, the more people who post here the better, this thread, like JATS's one too, is a freeforall then, anything goes, but don't be deceived by it's simplicity here, it is deep, but at the same time it is a chatroom too, whatever you post wins, that all..." mentioned the goblin again)

"...good morning, not sure..." said the goblin pushing reality away a bit longer, the sandman had taken him for quite a ride last night through his land of Nodd, and now this square boxlike room in the stark morning light felt like a prison cell born of sobriety "...so where are my dreams now..." he sighed

("...no, she's a brit by her spelling..." went the goblin to himself, but she was right one couldn't prove anything here so it didn't matter)

"...abracadabra..." went the goblin calling to somewhere within to show the way, well it was often like this, that something that the goblin had thought of in the day, perhaps just a line, would grow into a post of its own if he just looked long enough at the slot, no nothing planned, as if a magician had just popped his hand into the hat and pulled out a rabbit making the audience wonder in surprise, ah, but only the magician knew the truth, of what the rabbit was probably saying to him "...OK I'm the wrong rabbit not meant for this thread but mum's the word, promise..." it was saying then

The spirit rose a mask to her face but not any mask. She held a masquerade mask with elgant feathers and colors that even her ghostly face let shine. "Masks are wonderful are they not. They let us all forget who we are and where we are. they let us become different creatures and beings. " she laughed a bit as she thought of something. "Upon things like that, the internet would be the greatest mask of all!"

repost from elsewhere, the dating site's "last post" thread

xxxxx wrote:

Anyway, one can only play a "part" for so long before the facade slips and the real person emerges.....

and with that the goblin's facade slipped and the real goblin then emerged from behind it, saying "...can't remember which is the mask then...", and yet, joking apart, the goblin could relate to people quite openly hidden like this, no, it wasn't "dates" he was seeking anyway, no, he just wanted to know how other people were experiencing their lives, their thoughts, feelings, and reflections, saying "...how strange it seems to me that casual relationships seem cheap where real relationships seem costly..", so the Internet just offered the goblin two types it seemed, those that he actually grew to admire and like for their depth of character here, and those others elsewhere who were little more than triggers to his nagging libido, adding "...well, I very much doubt that I could be this honest if, for example, you knew me as your bank manager, or your doctor or your local policeman then..."

("...I think these last two posts of mine might be wrong for here so ignore, delete, whatever, as it's part of my honesty to myself now..." said the goblin before bedtime, adding "...thank you for posting back then today, I'd like you to win here, but I won't let you win for long though..."

repost from elsewhere, the goblin always smiles with sharp teeth

Quote :

a writer should amount to something

"...wrong again, a writer writes for himself, moreover, someone who is anonymous doesn't even try to amount to something, he just tries to get "it", that which is within him that is, "out", in posts in this case as right to himself as he can possibly make them to himself..." replied the goblin knowing that at the end, the last day if you like, it would be exactly the same for him as when he had first started, "...OK, so what reward should I be seeking here, see how cheap it sounds too, no, those trappings of "dailylife" and these trinkets of the moneygod do not interest me bots, listen then, I'll say it once clearly here, "my posts are all dead by the time I have hit to send button", you amuse me with your assumptions but clearly you do not write from what you have written here, you don't know that all engaging feeling in doing so, simply "you may leave this temple when you can stop snatching this popcorn out of my hand MYAHAHAHAHA"...", and with that the goblin wondered if there was some sort of "tomb of the anonymous goblin" somewhere, sure he would need it after reading something like that "a writer should amount to something" idea here, "...help! more anonymity, and quick please..." he cried, quickly double checking his mask again


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