the goblin showed up

"...hi..." said the goblin, wondering if he'd even come to the right place that is, his thoughts were more on the coffee machine now, but he just continued "...well there's not really much to say about me, married with kids I suppose, that's me then..." and then something crossed his mind "...you see, the trouble in ones introduction is simply, if you don't meet the other person, there's absolutely no way to prove anything anyway since these are just words here, and the reader is blind, I mean anyone of us could be just anything then, who knows I could even be a human for that matter MYAHAHAHA, just joking.."

The seer really didn't know how to reply to this, merely grinned and gave him reputation for such a brilliant post.

"Ah."
She raised her eyebrows almost skyward at this reply.

"...sounds exciting at least..." said the goblin, whose life was one of a tourist guide and computer repairman on the outside, though that he knew had little to do with him on the inside since he felt he could become anything he liked if he tried hard enough, "...the internet is a masked ball..." said the goblin adding "...why, is anyone ever old or poor or ugly on this internet then, is it only because they insist on being who they see in the mirror maybe..." reflected the goblin adding "...who knows perhaps the "dailylife" me is just another mask too, as his mind flashed back to Alexandre Dumas's book "...am I just this iron mask given to me at my birth by my maker, or is there a real me behind all this then, if so that is the face that I am looking for here..."

"...I loved that book."
She said, then added in a thoughtful, daydreamy tone.
"And your thoughts, on the interwebs...Very deep. You should write poetry."

("....perhaps I should then..." replied the goblin "...but I don't exist, I am anonymous...")

growing old

what now, do you still want your past
and how would you, if I may ask,
still believe then those lies of innocence
now dispelled through your own experience
delicately masked not to betray your age
so do you still wish to turn back this page,
and are you really so shallow and cheap
that some youthful need is all you seek,
amongst the blind who now share this pain
and as if the past could be relived again
while forgetting that old age has a goal
to seek within to find ones soul
and if not a “soul” a simpler wealth
to reach within to find “oneself”

-fleamailman-

"Beautiful"

"...ah, now I guess I had better explain myself a little more, I'm a "live writer", one of quite a few now..." the goblin paused for a second for the next bit, and then simply continued "...you want to become a writer, don't you, but why do you have to go anywhere, when all that you need is right in front of your eyes now, you just have to become known by what you write here, that's all, each post has to be thought out then, but that is only part of it, there is more you know, there always is, isn't there...", the black cat was thinking now

"I never knew there was a name, for what we do here."

Shadow watched the goblin with awe-filled eyes, quite impressed. "Wow . . . I could learn a few things from you," she told him, a grin spreading across her face. "I may have to give this live writing thing of yours a try. Please, though, watch the maturity." She gave him a wink, turning to head on her way. "Nudity isn't really allowed here . . . after all, several of our parents might not appreciate such things in a place we frequent."

the goblin too was an old hand now, saying "...to be honest I don't really see it as "forums" anymore, more like admin-personas here, or masks if you like...", though the next bit was a little harder to explain, the goblin thought for a second, and then said "....imagine yourself as a performer then, the thread being your stage, and the forum as your venue, in other words you are playing once more on this thread stage, at this forum, well imagine if one built up ones admin-persona like this, the moment that you landed on another forum, the members there would just associate you with your forum again, as if this "forum itself" had turned up, as the persona in its total is your ambassador here, or your advertisement then, as something recognized by the others as both you and your forum here...", so the goblin had boiled it down to "username", "avatar", "writing style" and "content", where each of those components had to remain uniform throughout for the widest possible recognition here, simply being the same, each time and everywhere too, "...self marketing perhaps, or a leaf from mcdonalds book even, but remember too, that non of this makes any sense without coming up with ones own content, "content" is crucial here, for without "content" the rest becomes meaningless, or counter productive even ..." in fact, no site could touch the goblin now, the secret was to become that persona then, that's a "live writer" for you, simply that is what this becomes as one improves till at some point the username is synonymous with the posts you expect, fleamailman is the author's name then, but there's always more isn't there humans


81

The seer collapsed, suddenly, brain overloaded with so many thoughts and the comprehensions of.
(She was a tad slow)

Shadow appeared very serious. She nodded, obviously listening very attentively to the intriguing goblin. "I think I get it - sort of," she said, grinning. It was then that she noticed the picture of Willy Wonka. "Oh, hey! I love that guy!" she declared, her face lighting up in delight. So much for being serious. "He's awesome!!"

"...recognition by "hitcount", qualification by "just doing it"..." said the goblin, adding "...so which is the medium that is usurping all others here, not books, magazines, nor newspapers then, nor even television, cinema or radio, so which then is the medium that everyone likes to inter react with, to contribute to, and then to follow...", and with that the goblin guessed that most people here already knew, the point which the goblin was making, so the goblin simply repeated "..."welcome to the masked ball of this Internet", for this is our medium now, for here we are all our own author/readers..."

Shadow was becoming more and more her hyper self by the moment. "I love it!" she declared, raising a fist. "Now I feel . . . l33t." She grinned to herself, giggling happily.

"...oh, I get it now, you women are so jealous at heart, aren't you now..." adding "...here you go shadow, anything to please, what do you think "..., ....has a couple of dark Nubian armor plated menservants to attend to her each and every whim as they take it in turns to gently rub in those delicate scented oils before she dips, wearing her favorite frogman's suit of course, into that deep hot Roman bath while the...,..." and with that out way, one for shadow then

ode to queen bot

"...let me imagine you then as dark, mysterious and deathly beautiful, a creature in the night's silence that storks the hearts of men with an unhidden knife, where not so much asking "...would you die for me..." as "...may I have your heart..." and the number of men who have already said "...yes if that will please you, anything for you I promise..."

Shadow was now quite uncertain how to take this. Her expression was something between an embarrassed and flattered smile; the only response she could think of was to let out a giggle. "Well then," she mumbled.

("...I have given you some posts now..." replied the goblin, continuing "...I'll pass by from time to time then, and call me if you need me, my workload is enjoyably daunting though, as there never seems to be enough goblin to go round...")

"...actually I'm thinking that we seem to be spoiled for "disaster scenarios" these days..." started the goblin, continuing "...well, what with solar flares, global warming, planetary collisions and alien invasions, sounding slightly more conducive to thought than this global recession with bird flu..." as his hand swayed out its open empty palm as if giving something now "...no I blame the Internet then, isn't it just amazing the way it just acts like a Ouija board to ones fears each time...", definitely the goblin was not feeling normal today, though it had been a long time since he had been anything near sane that is, "...no, better sign off before what I write here just confirms everyones suspicions on the subject of my sanity..." voiced the goblin as he rushed off fearing sanity above all, "...done that been there, no thanks..." came his voice from the ever growing distance now


64

repost from elsewhere, a writer's site, chipping away at their "the gospel according to good writers" there

the goblin was just thinking of how easy it was to play either the mentor or tormentor now, saying "...for me, part of my selfishness is knowing something simple in itself, that the point of ones posting is not for the sake of participation here, for simply one sells oneself cheap that way, where ones posts become like mere tags then, whereas if something is actually meant by all those tags, then surely, shouldn't they be made into actual posts instead...", so the goblin never tagged a thread with the first thing he thought of, as many did it seemed, no, simply he either posted or passed up on replying, adding "...for those who are not selfish in what they post are invisible, are they not, writing is not somewhere else now, at least, not as something tucked away in some unread blog as an excuse or justification for fobbing posts, no, simply writing is in ones posts, or writing is ones posts period...", and with that, the goblin knew he now had to find that matching picture, remarking "...finding the pictures is such a bane of course, but an illustrator's eye won't come without practice, and I should know, still one doesn't have to display the actual picture here, only to find it for oneself again..."

"Hehe, that's a very good point against random tags," Shadow chuckled, rolling her eyes a little bit. "I should learn from you." A guilty grin made its way onto her face.

("...think of me as your friend then..." started the goblin, over his coffee again, where I'll post from time to time here, mostly to do with "live writing" then, since it is clear that it is a steadily growing trend now, what with more and more posters polishing their texts before posting, publishing then, as if the line between written work and post itself was fast disappearing here)

so what is a "live writer"

the goblin had faced this same question often enough, explaining "...well, a "live writer", for me at least, is just a pokemon upgrade of a forum member, and yet he is also someone who has built up such a uniform "admin persona", that it turns himself into a kind of author/performer whichever forum/venue he is on, yet seeming forumless too..." the goblin broke of for a second, coffee, and then "...and where his, or hers for that matter, posts are like published works in their own right where everything the reader wants is in the post itself, a written work then, often well illustrated too, and where the username just becames synonymous with the author's name, and where one instinctively clicks onto his thread first amongst the many new posts, and where his postcount is a fraction of his hitcount now..." mentioned the goblin, knowing that the biggest difference between a normal poster and a "live writer" was that a "live writer" needs to repost the work many times across many sites before he was satisfied, "...am I one then, I don't know but people say I am..." mentioned the goblin with a link to a site that was about to migrate and die losing the goblin's post with it, "...any wonder why one reposts now..." laughed the goblin though his fate

http://countrysideforum.smfforfree2.com/index.php?topic=539.new;topicseen#new

Sophie read this thread in awe and amusement.

XD

You guys can really go on for a long amount of time with the narrative/third person writing.

("...funny you should mention that actually..." replied the goblin, continuing "...I seem to remember that most books too, were written in third person now...", so there you had the crux of the matter here, the post had to become the author's work too, not meaning that he had to write in third person now, only that each post had to meet his or her own benchmark, and not fobbed or just a tag)

repost from elsewhere, just sharing

Looks like you are contagious Flea, as I have had my first "Locked Thread" this evening

"...well there are more sites on this internet , than there are stars in the night sky, so let them laugh on the other side of their faces when they finally see what they have missed out on then..." replied the goblin adding "...forums at like venues, simply one doesn't really know, how it is going to go that is, until one hits the thread/stage itself, but that's the challenge, and reward when one steals the show as you did elsewhere...", but the effort is never for the site, it's for the self here, adding "...I have tried out about ten sites in the last week, some are promising, but most are a dead loss then, but it's all practice as I am trying to correct my two weaknesses now, first that of my death-wish of playing "swot the bot" even if the prats deserve it, which unfortunately too, is also where some of my best putdowns originate from, and the other problem of going too fast in the wish to air/edit my stuff..." anyway the goblin simply knew that most admins couldn't be as smart as the admin here, so "double posting" rules, and other little oddities had to be allowed for, until it just didn't work out, then it's new adventure time without the slightest regret because locking, deleting and booting are a forum's prerogative perhaps, but your only responsibility is towards the integrity of your posts now, those posts are you so to speak

("...if you post here, I will reply and post on then..." said the goblin, adding "...call me if you like but don't transfer me to a blog place, for I am not dead yet, I think...")

the bistro owner's wife is enormous for her short size, and the goblin often looks at her, not so much with some indecent intention, but more as an object for some great hug, the personification of Gaea in his view, and in this adoration, her hug alone would make up for every other woman he knew, and whether, his hands would meet behind her back, didn't matter, no it did matter, and yes they wouldn't, wow at the thought he felt, which alas is all it could be, but those were the hugs of his childhood he remembers now


5

repost from elsewhere

I was wondering, for those of you who are writing or have written a book before, what is the hardest part? Starting, finishing, the middle, keeping characters/places/monsters consistent?

and then the goblin turned up from the afternoon bistro, empty handed, save for a little roll of transparent scotch type, saying "...honestly I hate these things, one can never quite find the start point on these rolls can one, not that my nails are what they were either...", the goblin now held the roll in one hand, and with the other gently touched over its surface, "...oh, and how many times is it..., ..." the frustration began to swell up in him as he kept turning it over, feeling over and over again, that smooth surface for that telltale bump, continuing "...that I have had to slowly turn this silly thing over feeling for that little bump again, you know, the one that tells you where to scratch its surface enough to let your fingers somehow pull the tape away from the roll, not that that always works either, only that one has to keep up this "feel, scratch and pull" method here...", after which, the goblin would just cut and stick it somewhere, admittedly though that never seemed nearly as difficult as this first bit then, since the tape was in full view now, "...that's odd, you know I could have sworn that I was pulling this tape for a reason then, can't remember what that was now though..." mentioned the goblin in need of his coffee as he placed the tape back in the drawer with the others rolls