the last person to post here wins

"...then I will start one now, double posting allowed, reposts allowed too..." mentioned the goblin, adding "...in fact, some people here are just born illustrators, they're usually the ones who go overboard of on "way cool pics" threads, but we won't know if we have one till some time has passed meanwhile it will just tick along I suppose..."

57, "...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, the nursing home, his mother's dementia and the ebbing of the remaining time, all this should at least mean more than just "now", 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 yes but not about himself, his vanity invented loopholes that his reason couldn't accept, goblins it seemed were no different from the rest of us then.

"I shall await to see all the wondrous photos to appear" said the spirit grinning as she thought over the other beings of the site and their muse's and sights. "thus shall be an interesting area."

("...well no, sorry..." replied the goblin back to editing again, explaining "...a bit more nitpicking first, as it's amazing what I miss in the first posting..." as he put up his next)

"...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 once more 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 goblin was enjoying the fact, that his wife and children were away on a shopping holiday weekend leaving the goblin to get up to something even if at this point he couldn't for the life of him think of any secret urge worth gratifying, "...oh no, this is awful just how one sees though ones own temptations..." lamented the goblin ending up simply going back to the bistro again

between the pouring rain and unforgiving sun Geneva has periods of gray dullness like now in which the goblin would usually sit in the bistro trying to make sense of his life before giving up knowing that when it all "made sense" he would only want he life to be a "mystery" again saying "...now I understand, I don't want to understand anymore..."

-random appearance- i win o.o

"...and you think I didn't notice MYAHAHAHHAHA..." went the goblin, adding "...welcome and do try again, it's just that I am very greeeeeeedy when it comes to being last here, in fact I wonder if there is anyone more greedy than me..."

*points at silentxmidnight* she could rival you if she wanted >>

"...she already exceeds me, but I still have this thread now MYAHAHAHHA...." ventured the goblin, adding "...all that matters in challenging yourself here..."

omg gir o.o *I LIKE WAFFLES* anyway hi

("...sore dake ka, mo chotto gumbutte..." replied the goblin, adding "...moto nagai bunsho onagaishimasu...")

and with that the goblin was looking at this thread with renewed zeal, in fact he felt that he had not been to himself recently probably because he hadn't read the warning on the "dailylife" packs: "warning, dailylife and the petty schemes of the moneygod can seriously distract one from the whole picture"

"...oh yes, teenage romance..." remembers the goblin "...something about baying to the moon till the next moon and promising that there will never be any other moon but only this moon forever..." but to this goblin today that was all so many moons ago now

meanwhile back at coronation street's Rovers Return, "...oh knees up mother brown, knees up mother brown, another stout with your chip butty goblin, hows that anthropological report going then..." the bucksum barmaid asks over the counter where the goblin types away next to her untouched offerings "...well I'll get round to eating them later(lying), btw do you have any coffee by any chance..." asked the goblin half in prayer to a somewhat bewildered barmaid rubbing the stubble on her chin as she tries to recollect "...eh, coffee now is it, um, I'll go down to the cellar luv, do you know what the bottle looks like...", "...no that's alright, I was..." as they both suddenly gasped as they saw a policebox appear by the dart's board where out pops a man "...hello, I am the Doctor, I say, could I have a chip butty too please with a coke...", the barmaid leans over to the goblin again whispers "...bloody Londoners from the BBC, always the same, he'll start asking directions next, just you watch..." the barmaid voice grows louder adding "...here you go luv, if you want more HP source just holler..." as she plonks the chip butty on the counter, "...thank you, and you must be a goblin my good fellow, always nice to meet someone from the computer world, btw you wouldn't happen to know my way off this ITV channel by any chance..." the barmaid just squinted her face and gave a nod of "told you so" to the goblin who added it to his report here

footnote: Dr Who did find his way back to the BBC after accidentally landing in ITV's Coronation street , not least because the goblin had given directions in exchange for a giant tin of "Nescafe gold" instant coffee grains, that is, moments before the barmaid, then changed into her revealing sexy space suit, entered the tardis saying "...back in tick luv, the Doctor has promised to show me his knobs..." where the goblin just squinted his face and gave a nod of "told you so too" as was customary on Coronation street

i like the moon pic. it has a face o.o

most everything about me is explained already somewhere, the "writer" bit comes next except that it doesn't in that I am not a writer, or that perhaps what most people think of as a writer is not my interpretation of one, simply "a writer is not what he has done but what he is doing", what of it, well nothing really, save that everything that I have ever written is dead at this point, set in the past, belonging to the Internet and utterly dead, so perhaps this "journey to self" of just "facing the slot" like now is what then..." the goblin paused knowing he couldn't quite bridge it, "...that "publishing" I feel, is for some fossil minded fame seeking type, whereas here, in this small triangle of computer/coffee/self, I have had all the live writing, interaction and anonymous fame that anyone could ever wish for..." ventured the goblin who knew deep down that he was lying, "...OK I admit it then, no there's never really is enough anonymous fame for this goblin it seems..." laughed the goblin at himself, that is, as if the result of being famous while still remaining anonymous really made any difference in the long run

"publication, in the main stream and not only upon these nooks and cranies of the internet, are but pluses for those whom write to write." stated the spirit as she haunted across the latest picture, interested in its seriority. "One can only write for ones self to be a true writer. to write for others before oneself is but an entertainment and a need for being wanted. such as that is not important, at least not to me."

("...me too..." said the goblin again, admitting that somehow calling it "writing" did sound slightly more plausible than his confessing the truth that it was probably just talking to oneself on paper now, saying "...no I'm not mad folks..." adding "...I'm simply reciting a soliloquy to these nice men in white coats here...", no, in fact, the goblin did write for others and he knew it too, for he was unable to write off line as he sorely needed everyones sense of audience here, but at the same time he was well aware that the readers ruin the author though met expectations, "...therein lies the rub..." went hamlet in the background, adding "...always that compromise it seems..." )


repost upon related topic

"...who knows..." said the goblin, so this was his paradox then, that the goblin needed members to please to write well but taken to an extreme the goblin would compromise himself by pleasing too much those same members he was trying to please anyway

("...still helping out young writers across sites, this one is into poems and has talent for his age I feel, anyway some obscure site called "the writer club" with two active members it seem, me being one of them, but that's me as I'll evolve anyone into this, after all, I was alone doing this once...")

Quote :

Never fear...I do mostly write for myself until something catches my fancy and I let my thoughts fly! Ha ha ha...But I have a question? Tell me more of this 'repost from elsewhere' I think I understand but sometimes my brain is so full I am sure it quite eludes me? Could you explain it some more? Please?

"...I am across forty, maybe fifty, "last post" threads now..." replied the goblin, trying to find the right words, "...so most of what you see here are reposts form somewhere else then, as I am editing in the repost, no shame in that at all, and you are keeping me company then, whereas you I imagine, probably have a collection of stuff in various places and formats, which you are now getting together here, doing what is their first posting then...", the goblin just stopped for a second, thinking perhaps of those books where there are first editions, second editions, etc., continuing "...think of it as you doing your first edition here, later you will have a fine body of works for sure, but you will also improve as you go along, for example you'll notice that the title in the poems goes directly above the work without a blanc spaceline, where the author's name goes one blanc spaceline below the poem and one blanc spaceline above the picture, meaning that when you finally repost them elsewhere to other sites to get feedback, or just to store them in a neater order, you'll correct your previous mistakes in do so, that is why a "live writer" reposts, where a normal writer just posts once each time, so tell which do you think will get the better end result then..."

Oh, here you are, found you at last!

I'm still getting used to finding my way around the site. It's a bit more sophisticated than the smf forums!

I'm going for a walk later on, so I'll take my camera with me and see if I can get some more good pics. I'm on the hunt for ducks this time!

("...yes, I was editing my posts again, you know how I work post/edit, post/edit, post/edit, post/edit, post/edit, post/edit, but it has to be done and I like it when people look on..." confessed the goblin, "...I keep forgetting to add the number under the picture, JATS is reinstalling his computer after it crashed it seems, will be here later...")

"...in a way you have your own "journey to self" in front of you any time you open a slot like this..." ventured the goblin, adding "...just think of what you could post if you kept at it day after day, ah but not for just months now, no, for years on end I mean, and all that while continually storing and polishing those posts that you felt to be your best, wouldn't you then know who you are by what you posted, and have a real treasure in hand then...." ventured the goblin, who used the "last post" thread in this way then, that is, while all along, the goblin welcomed those other members who came and went but the truth was that they didn't know who the goblin was, any more than he knew who they were either, "...ah, it always remains this masked ball here then..." concluded the goblin trying to get the most out of it, and wishing well, while he still could


6

morning rush hour and the man in the mirror, somehow guessing the goblin's mood, starts singing: "...crappy workday to you, crappy workday to you, crappy workday dear moron, crappy workday to you...", the goblin then imagined he could hear a whole chorus of the same song coming from the fellow passengers on the bus, and the goblin was probably right, just that the mute switch was turned on it seemed


6

Well it was duck season down at the park today! These were the two little duckies I was hunting for. I'm not sure what I'll name them yet. Maybe someone from here can give me some ideas?

Quote :

JATS is reinstalling his computer after it crashed it seems, will be here later.

And so the Jatsman appears with a flourish and a bow, and sees that the delectable Mars is on here too now, "Yes all fixed now and as good as new, if not better in fact, a crash of my own making, and the first one since I have been on Linux, that hasn't been cured by the old turn it off and turn it on again trick, for sure I would have got there in the end after stumbling around in the dark for a bit, but with the help of an old wise man from Geneva it was much easier, and now I am back in business" more Tea Vicar then, as his mental to do list of what's next flashes through his head "... yes so Linux is up and running again using up more room on my hard disk now as Windows, which is still there, lies virtually dormant, oh yes the power has definitely shifted for me"

the spirit appears, her mist weak and megar, her form not visible as she slumps across the floor. "Welcome back Jats, and of course, well welcomes to you, Mars." she whispers.