What People Say Forum A quote

("...the trouble is that one knows that the system is breaking under the strain of debt while no one is willing to replace the system as of yet..." mentioned the goblin thanking the mouse, and suspecting that capitalism had run its course then, explaining "...clearly slavery gave way to capitalism, which in turn is giving way to technology where the human are all but superfluous within it's workings, yet if there is no work left for humans to do, then how can they purchase the produce of that technology there where machines produce the goods but where only the humans buy them...")

repost from elsewhere, new and still is a mess

"...in the end..." started the goblin thinking upon it now, and then continuing "...perhaps god is a bit like a headache then, where those who get headaches are in no doubt about it and can't see why others don't get them nor understand those who do, whereas those who don't get headaches never really believe that others can get them, likewise then, there are those who know god not as some blind belief nor as some base logic, but simply as something they've experienced, so god is a bit like one big headache then...", at which point god, looking down, was probably wondering why the goblin couldn't come up with some better analogy here, where the goblin too was wondering what the fuss was all about as it was all so subjective anyway, saying "...look, whether it's the torah the koran or the bible, it's just the same god in each with you humans finding it all a jolly good pretext to kill one another, um yes a headache where somewhere along the line we all got this unforgiving..."


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repost from elsewhere

the goblin liked the replies, saying "...the number of posts, the hitcount and ratings is only going to make one neurotic as there will always be other members on forumland that have a far greater number of "whatever" than one has but what of it, where the only thing that actually matters is the question of "are you happy by being here", where if so then just stay then..." but for the goblin it always remained just him against himself wherever, in that, in posting on as he did, and as he would continue to do too, simply he won against the part of himself that was saying why bother each time, simply to post on was to win on in his view


47

repost from elsewhere, someone who had written about a death in her family

the goblin just offered his condolences knowing that he would read anything the poster wrote here now, saying "...I am good at listening then..." and somehow the goblin knew that each happening like this was just wrestling an angel, and that these angels were not there to be nice, they were there to help one shine in one's reflection against them, whereupon the goblin just remarked "... and of course one's reflections doesn't have to be shared with others here, but they do have to be formed, don't they just, or else that angel, whichever one it was now, would have been wasted on you, so it's pain to open the eyes as the angel teaches us awareness..."


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("...for me it started out as a game, where each forum had a "the last person to post here wins" thread, and that I played that game as others did but found that rather that just posting "I win" each time I elaborated my replies till my alter ego burst out to my surprise, and now I don't play that game any more, but it's like I'm still playing that game against myself in all I do, something like me or my dailylife instead of me...")

repost from elsewhere, an american "last post" thread

meanwhile, back at CIA headquarters agent joe is carefully monitoring al qaida's secret website at his desk, thinks "where's mac with my coffee then" as he starts reading through the new posts for subliminal messages, and then reads you infidel, may a thousand scorpions sit on your bum, your goblin days are numbered, this is my "last post" thread, it is written, then agent joe looks up at agent mccoy who has come in with his coffee, says "...look, you take over mac, I'm beat, I need a break..." whereupon turning to the second screen showing the CIA's site, jo sips his coffee, feels better, clicks the "new posts" button, and then writes listen buddy, there's no way this thread is yours goblin, yet somehow the goblin is always supportive, he just liked sending people upwards


4

"...well yes mouse, they might call me a troll, but then again they would call anyone who didn't fit into their bland posting style a troll by their benchmark there..." smiled the goblin who was on a few troll forums for that matter, then adding "...no, I get on well with the trolls though, where a livewriter has to know how to defend himself too, yet there would be little advantage in alienating one's replyship by trolling folks, so I'm both supportive and engaging, those being very non troll traits...", to which the goblin smiled "...btw mouse, if you want a readership larger than most writers here can coop with I can give you mine, but whether you can keep those readers following you depends much upon your talents, yet either way though, unless you wish to remain secluded like this you'll have to post out across forumland at some point, yet it's all practice to your pen and grist to your mill so to speak, just a "last post" game to your last post then, ah but don't you want to know who you are by what you post..."

repost from elsewhere

the goblin wasn't so sure at this point, it was as if his very existence was a vortex of ever decreasing circles, diminished returns, and met expectations, no, not just for himself but for anyone who remained within its orbit, "...ah, that's your lot goblin, isn't that just dailylife as you like to call it, and how by now you know it well my little goblin yet that dailylife of yours was never the real point here anyway was it..." whispered death out of the shadows somewhere, adding "...so you've lost your barrings in all this dailylife of yours goblin, well then you only have to think of me here to know where and what the real game is at this point...", to which death continued with those some old lines of his again, saying "...ah yes, the rules again, well then let me explain, simply it's like hide and seek with me, I close my eyes and count on, meanwhile you have to figure it all out, as much as you possibly can that is, before I come for you then, though the only thing is, and perhaps to make this game a little more interesting for us both, is that I don't actually tell you which number I'm counting to, nor what exactly you're supposed to find out neither, while no doubt those two crooks of your distracting dailylife and that moneygod will try to waylay you to their own ends once more, in other words my friend, just think of this life as a "last post" game for real goblin, and let's see how you fare then..."


60

"...I'm ok with that, yet if you should ever change your mind you only have to google my username to join me somewhere, or conversely should you wish me to join somewhere then I'm game but most places ban me even if none of my posts ever show malice to anyone..." smiled the goblin suspecting it was his aftershave then, before adding "...not that having a readership upon forumland amounts to anything much anyway, save that it does offer a sense of audience and feeling of deadline too, and at times there are those replies to prompt one further...", but by now the clock had caught up with goblin again and soon sure enough the sandman would appear with a big bag marked "flea" upon it lest the goblin turned into a zombie without warning, "...ah yes, the case of the missing brain again..." went sherlock holmes's voice in the background continuing "...there's nothing for it when it gets like this watson, we'll just have to find him in the morning then...", as the slot gulped down the scene all none too soon it seemed

repost from elsewhere, the "how often do admit your feelings" thread

"...I suppose I do admit my own feelings whenever they overwhelm me..." ventured the goblin, adding "...where often too, I'm just left sparing with my ghosts and fighting their past battles over again, and yet doesn't that only reinforce them to my own detriment, so will I ever learn to leave my ghosts alone, yet who can ever leave their past be if one plays with one's pen like this..", somehow as the goblin thought upon it here where he couldn't avoid the simple truth that whatever you write writes you back, saying "...so writers live shared lives, they see ghosts, and hear those voices too, moreover, they possess their characters and are possessed by them too, so now, do you still want to become a writer here where I'll befriend you and help you where I can, but when those readers have finished reading your whatever then, and after they've recognized your talent too, and even paid you well for your pains, they'll just walk away leaving you stuck with your shared life of sparing with you ghosts within you still ..."


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Wow. Looks like this is a popular thread... Lol. After a few posts, i come back, and see that there's over seventy more posts. Now this group is active :)

"The writer is the engineer of the soul."