We Are All Mad Here Forum Music!

repost from elsewhere,


"...well yes xxxxx, it's this feeding and you have feed me well by now, where many of my posts are simply written in reply to that which you or someone else has fed me by way of replies, much like my posts have fed you in return I imagine..." replied the goblin before adding "...yet at times my post arise from something fed to me from many years back now, a ghost of the past as it were then...", simply, either the goblin's posting came from within him from before or from those around him today, concluding "...so livewriting is either a correspondence between personas like now, or with past events then, where there's no clear distinction for me at least between that past and this present, but where I feel I am writing more to an audience today rather than writing for some readership like previously, thus this is "live" by it and I'm in it for the replies too, writing ever in reaction still..."


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"...who knows the future..." replied the goblin promising the mouse to post on anyway, and as if he could stop posting even, before going off on his own tangent now, continuing "...where war in europe seemed all but unthinkable a few years back but where today the hawks would have you think that a nuclear war is actually winnable, survivable for those who strike first, but russia will not be hoodwinked by the US now, for if it's war they won't bother with NATO who merely acts as a puppet for US interests here, instead they go after US from whence those orders come from, I mean a proxy war is all very good for business as long as it's far away, but if if it's on russia's boarders then for them it's no longer proxy anymore where the hawks will learn that the US this time around is not only going to see these events unfold from the comfort of their living rooms television sets...", somehow the goblin was just hoping that sense would prevail but it seemed smart people weren't running the show where those on offer to the US electorate hardly seemed the right people for delicate role cut out for them to come



 

repost from elsewhere, daylight saving time on a "last post" thread

"...ah, look at the miss set alarm clock watson...", holmes pointed across the bed "...ingenious..." watson replied continuing "...so the zombie we found at the writing desk came from that...", "...yes, and most probably the masterwork of that mouse moriarty and the writterscafe gang again, a fiendish ploy to stop him from posting most likely...", "...I say holmes, this just isn't cricket, what's ever to be done I wonder..." "...no time to explain now waston, we must retrieve the last post here before it falls into their hands...", "...by jove, brilliant idea holmes..." as their steps quickened towards the goblin's computer


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repost from elsewhere, the "pen name" thread


"..but then again where's the fun of being one's boring real life whatever of whoever one really is then, where and when instead one can pluck out form one's imagination something to creates one's persona upon forumland and beyond even..." remarked the goblin, quickly adding "...so the fun in writing fiction is that it is totally fictional then, where the fun of one's pen name is that one can live out that fiction there, I mean who would ever want to be some hick realbilly upon forumland here...", "...none of them I hope goblin..." voiced the slot in reply while waiting for the goblin to let him gulp while outside the rain just continued unabated since morning time, yes somehow reality seemed somewhat overrated at this point, whereupon the goblin remembered that old line of a song he knew that the truth was out of style


truth is out of style



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repost from elsewhere, someone replying on a long dead site that sent a notification recalling the goblin there

the goblin slowly typed the reply to the "last post" thread that the stranger had called him with a simple "I win" post, saying "...I guess that we are the only ones here now...", but that was fate then, that some forums worked out while other didn't, and now, here, looking across these dead posts, the goblin saw fun usernames which read like "here lies so and so, RIP" and lively texts reading like unanswered epitaphs to a time before, "...so this place becomes a cemetery now where sobriety has seeded well in what remains..." voiced the goblin leaving this lone line as his reply as he walks on in silence


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repost from elsewhere

"...pick up the sword goblin, give me one good reason why I just don't kill you straight off then..." and she wasn't joking neither the goblin knew, moreover, as "captain of the amazons"  she must have killed many men, and other women for that matter, and now she so resembled a tigress at this point, beautiful yet deadly, and just as any true woman she either loved or hated,  "...captain I know that you can kill me easily but all that you've heard about the eldorado ladies restroom, with that large stage sized mirror rimmed with those theatre lights, where below it are endless bottles of hand lotions, creams, perfumes, crayons, lipsticks, all rested neatly above a marble wash basin to matching pink walls, where again a bookshelf filled to the brim with books by "mills and boon" and babara cartland, together with an uncountable number of catalogs of shoes, clothes, and fashion brands to browse and purchase await, yes my captain, it's all true, but that's only part of it, there's a free telephone, a television, and the computer to do msn chat on, a "sound around" stereo system to listen to other women like britney spears, madonna and bananarama, even a kitchen alcove to stew jam and bake cakes in, oh and a catflap to let one's favorite pet come and go as it pleases, and so so much more o beautiful captain if you would just care to join me awhile...", which was, more or less, the way the goblin wooed his wife he remembers now, knowing that one had to truly appreciate a woman's priorities before one could actually approach them even


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repost from elsewhere, overstretched and written during a rethink of the number of places he posted to

“...slot, forumland won''t miss me whenever I'm gone, I mean here never remembers anyone like that...” said the goblin pondering over the slot anew, “...look goblin I can understand, and if you ever feel that you're no longer yourself on-line then you should break off from posting awhile until you're yourself again, it's the realm of anonymity remember where no one and nothing is here...” where the goblin was compromising ever within that need to please trap again, something which always lead him into being someone else than himself for the sake of others, “...well slot, I do like everyone whom I don't even know at you say but in the end it's become my journey to self here doesn't it in a journey that is not twice now, so why compromise...” and with that the goblin felt that he had turned a corner in his understanding of what the muse's pact really meant, as something truly based on honesty, a shared life and a thick skin thus he would stay but he wouldn't please the readers still, sighing "...no, there's no point in one's anonymity if one is just trying to please others within that anonymity..."


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("...and there was I thinking that you were no more, that I was editing posts all by myself now..." smiled the goblin seeing that the mouse was posting pictures too, adding "...well done, and to all extents and purposes they're going to think of you as one of us livewriters then, where I guess all that remains is for you to get to a thread with 10.000views to it, then you'll be a livewriter for sure, I mean there are an awful lots of writers across forumland but where may one ask are their threads to substantiate that claim there, whereas you my little mouse could be a painter indeed for your penmanship, where they'll take one look at your post and then they'd just know it's you by it, the trick of persona is that that you don't even need a username, moreover the more practice the better you get it...", at which point the soapbox broke under the weight of his soliloquy now, served him right though he was taking himself all too seriously again)

repost from elsewhere

the goblin had an aversion to using full stops while posting, much as he did for colons and semi colons too, in that, what with most modern day readers newly unstuck from their computer and accidentally drifting in here like this somehow the goblin doubted that they would really know what any of those punctuation marks actually meant, where somehow the image of "...scotty, damage report please...", "...captain, I don't know how long this vessel can much more of those funny dots and dashes coming from that goblin there...", "...ok bones, disengage then and set a direct course for facebook..." crossed the goblin's mind whenever some mad temptation to write normally arose


35

repost from elsewhere

how strangely it seems now, that the goblin and the mommies went so far back together then, "...ah, those women and that realm of women's interests forums, one which is always so strange to anyone uninitiated, as I was at the time I remember..." ventured the goblin, adding "...but they're avid readers and a force in their own right on their boards...", outside now, those relentless wheels of passing cars just crushed the fallen water of the wet road in that unmistakable sound of light monotonous rain, and inside too, the bistro resembled the goblin's props of a "last post" thread, or whatever would equivocate to that in his dailylife to a "last post" thread that is, till the goblin just added "...a creature of habit I am too, though part of me always rebels against this course of least resistance that I always choose for myself within this dailylife today, but folks I will never be just that meat and two veg writer, that all this meat and two veg writing seems required of one, naah that's just not me here is it...", and yes it almost seems now that the mommies had somehow taught the goblin to rebel like this, for certainly his debt to them was heartfelt


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("...you're really improving there..." remarked the goblin seeing where the mouse was posting now comparing it with what she started out with)

repost from elsewhere

“...ah humans, if you write like all too correctly, like following some school book perhaps, one might think oneself as more readable by it, yes, but one also risks disaster for oneself too...” voiced the goblin then explaining “...simply, if one writes like everyone else does then doesn't just like everyone else result from it too...”, where perhaps that point alone somehow saved the goblin form ever wanting to write like others do, something which clearly didn't work in posts anyway, that bland everybody writing style, smiling "...for who ever remembers just that which is to be expected here..."


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repost from elsewhere, another ghost of the past

the goblin's morning had been quiet, where the email had mentioned that the prostrate cancer had moved to bone now, though what exactly that meant hardly sank in as he now realized that he might have to look after dad from this point onwards, dad who, in his turn, had spent these last years visiting the goblin's vegetated mum each week in the home, "...well it could be worse I suppose..." the goblin repeated to himself, continuing "...I mean cancer, for all its faults, does at least announce itself, imagine if it had been some sudden dishabilitating stroke..., ...", the goblin broke off from talking or thinking upon it, while outside, that rain that hadn't stopped yesterday morning when the goblin had first seen the mail had stopped now, just the goblin's mental retrenchment seemed complete, where he quickly checked the expiry date of his passport once more along with so many other mundane trivial travel details, knowing perhaps, that this would be a wordless way of saying "thank you" to his parents for his own childhood that is, simply, if it had to be, then it had to be met in earnest


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repost from elsewhere, the "my site is down" thread on the support forum's forum



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("...it gets better with the practice, however most places would ban you if you ever started writing in third person upon their forums, where oddly I find that a motivation in itself, just to land upon some unknown forum to see what would happen if I posted as myself there, doing a "landing" as its called, so my being here now was as a landing to begin with, but then I found both the seclusion of the forum due to the spambot plus the fact that there is no hitcount too most conducive to my nature here, so this forum has become my edit forum..." explained the goblin who rarely did anything without a reason to)

repost from elsewhere

"... a bit of a catch 22 I suppose..." replied the goblin, welcoming xxxxx then, explaining "...I mean if one writes that which readers don't want then evidently they won't read it then, whereas if one writes what readers want they won't remember it nor you by it...", thus the goblin never took those reader too seriously here, thinking instead upon that maxim what the horse doesn't know the horse won't eat...", hence the goblin's posts were usually bitesize making them easy to digest, except in the company of writertypes now, for then and perhaps then only, he guessed that anyone could clearly surpass the threshold of sanity bigtime and still be accepted amongst them as long as it worked as writing per se, sighing "...ah yes, only the utterly mad can actually write, for the rest of us are just normal folks who would never dream of tilting their pens towards the windmills of their own imagination like writers must it seems..."


147

repost from elsewhere

again the goblin's mind is caught in the branches of a concept, that the anonymous are not held accountable, and yet even in the depth on his anonymity the goblin was not impervious to either guilt or regret here, where oddly too, he cared very deeply about his anonymous persona without having any actual reason to do so, saying "...I suppose it's what you have of me here, and what's more is that it's probably all I really have of myself too, for in this life all that which one has are ever those externals each time, yet one isn't what one has, ah no, one is who one is to oneself..."


147

repost from elsewhere

the goblin explained something saying "...[i]livewriting[/i] is somewhat different from book writing, first off one's post can't be too long since one is competing with facebook here, next off the hitcount is a pretty fair indicator of one's readership, and last off the work and it's author are more or less [i]two sides of the same coin[/i] here...", and yet this last point seemed too big for the goblin to explain in one go, even if he also knew that it was the biggest most important difference between the two types of writing now, continuing "...perhaps it's the same difference as that between the cinema and the theatre, where books, like the cinema then, seem to be some set record of the something filmed previously elsewhere then, whereas these posts, much like the theater counterpart, has one's audience viewing everything first hand here...", at which point the goblin felt there was something else he should add here, continuing "...the total number of posters posting to a thread tells one of its participation rate, whereas the hitcount divided by the number of posts gives one a fair idea of the thread's readership", meaning that some threads will have a high "readership", while others have a high large "participation", and yet no thread can be high in both readership and in participation...", but as much as the goblin understood the workings of these threads, the fact that he remained anonymous simply meant that none of what he had actually written here mattered to him beyond the point that he enjoyed livewriting far more than he would perhaps deadwriting he imagined


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