the last person to post here wins

repost from elsewhere

"...noting changes, for regardless of whatever happens to me, I post on each day as if to keep it all in perspective, no, not meaning that I will post everywhere then, where these threads across this forumland are so innumerable..." repeated the goblin, continuing "...no, perhaps instead of just posting everywhere like that, and within some context of continuity here, it's this winning against oneself here each time, or this self exploration then, that motivates me to post both selectively yet continuously...", in fact, neither the goblin's superficial dailylife, nor that authoritative system behind it, really wanted the goblin to reflect upon his lot beyond his direct needs, for simply it had to perpetuated itself upon each individual by moulding its own values within them, turning each of them in turn into craving consumers perhaps, concluding "...anonymity is all that I have..."

("...this one made me feel good, and I wish I had written this before for those times I had just accepted their ignorance, but what of it, it will serve for next time then, and how many times now, so I love this rapport with aspiring writers who heckle and complain about me, for my retorts grow sharper through their repetitive barbs, where I am after all only defending myself..." mentioned the goblin reposting it now)

repost from elsewhere, the goblin provoked into replying on a writer's forum's "last post" then

actually the goblin was really happy the way things were going so well now, in that he had threads with over 20,000 hits to them, some with 30,000 hits even, moreover, he was pleased with the way it is all expanding across forumland here, "...in fact, I'm becoming quite a known unknown it seems..." mentioned the goblin about it, adding "...so one just has to write for oneself I suppose, finding those forums that are willing to advance one, you know, somewhere where posters encourage one another to write in their own writing style, rather than all that cap in hand conformity stuff towards some ever marginalized and diminishing publishing world now...", where too, what with more and more people turning up on forumland here, the goblin really didn't need to be told how he should post, nor shown where the majority of his readers actually were either, nor what they wanted to read even, saying "...look, please don't schoolboy me like that again, for let's be honest here, between us two that is, who is the one who is actually threadbare here for all your claims of whatever publications elsewhere, look, simply get the hitcount first, and then lecture me on how to write on these threads perhaps..."

repost from elsewhere, someone's birthday again

"...every day is a gift then..." said the goblin, continuing "...where these birthdays do mark milestones in that generosity here, where nothing can be taken for granted now, so if anyone ever asks me what the best gift of any birthday to date, I would probably lie with an answer that they would expect from me, like some trinket perhaps, but I would actually be thinking to myself "why simply my being here of course", happy birthday now..."


115

("Sorry for not being on. My internet is being stupid." the dark haired woman said with sigh. "This is based off on one of the chatacers in my story.I want to tell the first part in the fairy's view, because it will be a fun thing to do." she said with a big smile.)

A sky blue fairy have to find a human girl that so be the one who will save us all. But she cannot go into the small, dieing town because all of its iron. So she quietly waits in a tree above the road that leads to the girl's home. Then a red haired girl came into view and see a few wildflowers by the side of the road; which she move off the road and pick them to put in her hair. The fairy drop down and made herself known to the young woman.

When she got the young woman's gaze the fairy starts to move away on a path that she knows well, to her master. Her Lord will tell this young woman that the worlds will be on her shoulders. She didn't evny the green eyed girl.

"Hearts of men are sad thing without love. Without it the world will be more harder for us." said a old woman to younger woman. The young woman listen to the words of her elder and nods. "I was lucky to find a man that can love me for me. One day you will find one too." the elder woman with her gray hair said with tenderness in her voice.

("...you write well..." said the goblin noting the wording, enjoying the content and style, continuing "...not to worry about lapses, we all have them, where I try something new everyday, not meaning that what I write fits all forums now, just that I seem to walk this journey to self in posts, only one or two a day then...")

repost from elsewhere, the "Rolling in it: the highest paid authors" thread

"...I will never be known nor make money out of this either, promise..." went the goblin now, adding "...just to become a known unknown at best then...", so the internet was vast, fast, and alive he felt and these were early days too, adding "...no I just want to be a livewriter on this internet here, where the truth is that, like you, I too haven't the slightest clue what that means, only that it's mine for the trying and I am going to try for it..."


115

repost from elsewhere

Quote :

"The media think that they're God. They make people believe in what they want them to believe. They're think they're more powerful then any holy man trying to spread his message to his fellows. For example the campaign adds they show. You don't know what to believe but they want you to believe everything."

"...love this thread..." went the goblin again thinking of something, explaining "...when some economic system fails, it is followed by a reign of terror where not only are resources confiscated but also knowledge is either suppressed or discarded, so it's only in those places with enough self-sufficiency and willpower that gain their actual independence but even there too, knowledge is a premium, for look at the fall of rome followed by the dark ages for example and just how grass root the regions sank to without knowledge, a few generations later they were unable to build even a three story building, where all that lost knowledge, on law, medicine, architecture, warfare, and the like, took a thousand years from ad 410 to the 15th century, to return via italy from the muslim world in the form of the renaissance...", simply if "knowledge is power" then its suppression, extinction, or replacement by something less powerful is a clear goal here that "the powers that be" can ill afford to overlook now, concluding "...today for example, from the media it's all either "news without views" or "views without news" resulting in either "ones not fully knowing about events" or "ones not fully understanding them", where simply the only thing one clearly understands, from what they cover on the news now that is, is that it's probably something else that they are covering up by it..."


116

("Thank you." the dark haired lady said with a smile. "Here is a poem that I did a few years ago went I was in a very dark mood. I rarely get this way. It is called The Mask." said she said in a quiet tone.)

The last time they talked was the party after gradutes from high school. Now all grown up and going to their tenth high school reunion. A woman in a black dress that is cut to show off her form, and she wearing a slight smile. She sees that the old jocks, have grown to fat man. She quietly laughs under her breath, because she was once a geek and now she is a beauty. She saw that people is trying to think who she is. She went to the table that have name tags, and pick up hers.

("...I'm enjoying reading your posts then..." went the goblin now)

repost from elsewhere

Quote :

...being a humble muslin person new to the western literature world, you can only go so far with your truth, prophecy and celestial light. It's only a matter of time before you move into the dirtier side of creative writing".

"...whichever faith then, or none at all for that matter, one simply goes "blind to self" in that suggested compromise here, so the question now is only one of motive, for if one has talent and one wants fame and fortune, then no doubt "writing everything they want in the way they want it too" is simple enough to follow I suppose, though the self blindness that results, in playing their game their way for their price, does give one a clear idea of both the evil of media, and of ones own cheapness towards oneself here..." mentioned the goblin, adding "...so, one notes many writers live in compromise until the point it inevitably breaks out into self disgust then, so I'd rather conquer forumland instead now for they're the same readers when one thinks about it..."


120

repost from elsewhere

Quote :

How are you going to conquer forumland when you keep getting banned from it, though? lol. Aren't you about out of writing sites to post on? Or do you post on all kinds of random sites?

"...ah now, if it were that easy I wouldn't even try..." smiled the goblin, who fed on whatever posts he came across, wherever too, adding "...mind you, let's be generous here and accept their reason for banning me, so writers rehash their ideas, threads veer off on tangents too, trolling and spamming perhaps, and yet, as long as I am read elsewhere, what does it matter what happens to me somewhere, it's ever forumland is it not...", the goblin was not to be trusted, oh yes, he was still conquering forumland sure enough, where those bans were only to be expected as proof of his refusing to compromise here, saying "...I think the line goes "as on those last post threads, so in forumland too, one just keeps going", it's a silly game I know, but really it's the only one going when one thinks about it..."


120

("I am glad that you like it." a dark haired woman said with a smile on her face. "This story is about two friends of different faiths and how they are the same." said the lady bitting her pen.)

Two woman of different faiths meets in a local coffeshop. The red haired lady is a Morman, and the other woman has dark hair is Mulism. They smile at one another, then they sit down at a table. A waiter came to them and ask what they want to drink. "I want hot chocolate." the Morman woman said with a smile. "I will have tea with honey." the Mulism woman said to the waiter. The waiter took their order and walk away.

Both women dress modetly to their own faiths. "So how is everything?" the red haired morman said to her friend. "Same old, Aileen. My family still wants me to get marry soon." the mulism woman said. "Is that right, Sisha. My family is the same way." Aileen said with a giggle. Then waiter comes and give them their drinks. They started to sip their drinks slowly. "I realize that we are not so different. I am glad that we are friends." Aileen said after sipping her hot chocolate.

("Write when I am listening to music. I think it helps with tone of the piece." the dark haired lady said with a slight smile.)

The couch and the coffie table is push back, so there is a small pace to dance. The radio is playing music into this livingroom. A young woman with light grey eyes is dancing with a happy smile playing on her face. She move around the room, dancing in circles. She let the music move her body. Her flowin brown hair flys into the air as she dances. Then woman is so moved byt the music that she didn't hear the front door open and close.

A young man with green eyes, smiling at the sight before him. He gently kick off his shoes and step into the makesift dancefloor. He grab her gentle hands, and she open her eyes. She only smile at him as they slowly move into a two-step. His black hair sway gently with their movents. When the slow song ened and they stopped dancing. The man with the green eyes looks in her light gray eyes, and they are full with love. He bed dow and lightly kiss her.

"Hello, Sweetheart." he said in a quiet tone after the kiss.

"Hello, Babe." she said as she place one of her hands on his cheek.

("...takes me back..." mentioned the goblin, adding "...you'll need to repost it many times now across forumland, that's how it becomes fluid then, for something worth reading twice is worth writing twice too I feel...", in fact, the goblin did just that, and each time the piece just became that bit nearer to what the goblin was getting at)

repost from elsewhere, why the goblin edits and reposts

Quote :

Anyway there are only a few livewriters about, but we always encourage a person to pursue their style and become better writers, to improve their style and correct their mistakes post to post. It's a chance to improve ones own self as a writer. Hope that helps.

"...very nicely put..." noted the goblin, adding "...it's beautiful to observe the effort involved in relating the love of your land, your family, your thoughts and views of nature and dailylife, all woven into the fabric of short illustrated precise posts on a thread that is clearly you to yourself now..." the goblin paused, then felt hard for the words he needed, continuing "...so if you feel married to the land, perhaps that I too feel connected towards forumland here, and "a post isn't a post until it's a repost" probably sums up this livewriting...", simply any site that bans one for reposting frees one, it becomes a badge merited on the simple understanding, that between their folly of "doing posts in some hap hazard one off way" on the one hand, and the sincerity of "finalizing ones post to oneself" on the the other, one has made ones choice here, or more precisely that choice has been made for you


120

repost from elsewhere, to another livewriter after he had been banned there

"...I will support you in any way I can now, though the truth is that those bans don't actually stop a livewriter, for simply at any forum a livewriter could rejoin under any username, and just write as one does, and all would instantly who was present, for such is the power of a persona which is unique to one..." mentioned the goblin, smiling "...but one is anonymous, where ones journey to self is walked in posts perhaps, and where forumland, like some endless neverland, offers one eternal youth at the price of anonymity now..."



120

repost from elsewhere

Quote :

Over six million members of facebook like your page. That must take a great deal of time to invite so many members to the page ... or, being a computer nerd, do you send out electronic invitations that take up none of your time?

"...no, honestly I haven't done even one post to facebook, it's death to me and I hate it with a passion, only my children put me up to it, so I opened an account but that is all it will ever remain there..." replied the goblin knowing that it didn't matter anyway, continuing "...no, I want to live this persona, while medusa wants set her authors in published stone perhaps, but why sell oneself to her for those trappings and trinkets when one can conquer forumland instead..."

(The dark haired lady smile with a shimmer in her eyes. "I write because it freeing and it is almost like I am in another place. Like my fav. book that took me away to different lands and letting me see different side of things." she said quietly with pen in her bun.)

In the early moring when the sun is barely above the ground. A young child with her mother is on the front porch watching to sun coming up. They watch as the colors of the rainbow play on the desert montions around them. They are in quiet awe of the beauty of the morning, and the power of nuture in their own backyard. The young child with her red hair lay her head on her mother's lap, and not saying a thing. Her mother gently brush her child firey hair back from her face.

This is their quiet time before a busy day of friend, family and life. They don't need the words to say how they feel now.

("...nice, you certainly have talent then..." went the goblin moment before the bistro would close upon him, adding "...keep them coming and I will reply each time, I always do, promise...", either way the goblin needed to air/edit/backup each time, so this helped him too)

repost from elsewhere

Quote :

But isn't life like a big masquerade party? Or is it more like the Matrix?

"...perhaps it's a bit of both then, part matrix par masquerade here..." smiled the goblin, explaining "...ah, but no independence ever, for one still depends on dailylife doesn't one, but between that secrecy within one and ones deception without, one can perfect a mask between them both, where simply if one neither knows what's going on around one, nor is able to hide it if one does know, then any mask is pointless, as one just becomes an ignorant sheep on the one hand, or an open book on the other, for the whole point of the mask is to mask something by it..."


121

repost from elsewhere

the goblin, in his moments of weakness perhaps, was annoyed often enough at both his irretrievable past and those declining prospects which lay upon the path in front of him now, saying "...well, at best one can lay these "ghosts of the past" to rest for a while turning ones thoughts elsewhere, but anyone who has ever voiced "growing old is letting go" has simply not grown old yet, for no one can let go that which they cannot touch, for it'll live within one for the rest of ones days till death or memory loss intervene..."


121

("Thank you. I will do the same." the dark haired woman said with a slight smile. "A part of this is from my fanfic of Hellsing and from the chapter 4. Of course I don't own it, but I do own oc of Rose." she said. She put pen to paper and started to write. "I hope I do this chatacers right, because I do love them." she said when she look up from her paper.)

The tall, black haired man raised his white gloved hand to his fledgling, to stop her from talking more. The vampire turns around and sees Rose standing there. She knows who he is; Alucard the pet of the Hellsing family. He gives her is normal wolfish smile that is ear to ear. The smile makes him look demented human with blood red eyes. Her inner dark beast purr with delight and fear of him, but she doesn't shows on her pale face in the moonlight.

"Ohh, New girl." Alucard said in his dark and deep voice.

"Hello, Old man. I heard many feared things about you." Rose said with a slight smile. Alucard laughs softly at the red haired woman. He sees that her eyes of the color of dark grove of green. They are so different from his master's icy blue eyes, but both have the power to lead men to their deaths. Her scent to him is the smell of sweet, earthy smell of desert sage after the rain, with the odor of gunpower, blood and hint of untouch white rose. Her scent is mouth watering, but his master's scent is more heavenly. The red eyed being that looks like a man, turn away from her to walk to one of the gun range booths and look across the field of fire. What ever he was thinking he keep to himself.

A man stood at the side of the arena, he looked familiar, he was tall, with dark blue eyes, a tanned body and jet black hair. Anyone who knew Alan might be suspicious, the same height and with the same hair colour. But everyone knew he had ice blue eyes and white as snow skin.

Of course it really was Alan. The annoying contact lenses which kept irritating him and the strange feeling which was a can of spray tan heavy against his skin.

He sighed as he watched the second last bull of the day get killed, only one lest he and had one more person in line before him. The spanish man in front of him patted Alan's shoulder, he was young and a good kid, he hoped he got an easy animal.

As the gate opened he gasped, it was one of the biggest bulls he had ever seen, and according to the commentator had a reputation for injuring or even killing those who went up against him.

Walking down the stairs he joined the emergency crew. Just in time as a few seconds later the bull was charging at the young man, who was now on the ground and bleeding.
No mortal would be able to save him, but Alan was no moral. A silver blur went through the air as Alan appeared in the bulls path, the unexpected person shocked it into turning and so it was thrown back into the yard. He picked up the young man who tried to say something to him, he simply shook his head and walked him to the hospital bay.

Once he had done that he ran back to the arena, for now it was his arena.

The gates opened and the bull charged out its horns shining in the light, it ignored the cloth Alan held and went straight for his body. Smiling he twirled sending the cloth over the bulls face while keeping himself out of harms way. The bull charged past shaking its oversized head before turning around and going again. Once again Alan dodged and the bull got a face full of cloth, the crowd cheered "O-lay!" as it went past.

Now on the third time as the bull charged he held the cloth a bit higher, so when the bull went through it, one of its razor sharp horns ripped through the cloth. Any normal man would have had the cloth ripped out of his hands. Any normal man didn't have Alan's strength, still he was the lesser weight and so Alan went flying.

He landed on his back, winded and a little dazed. It was now he noticed the shadow charging towards him. As the bull loomed over him it trust its horns into him, at least it would of if he were a mortal. As it was Alan's supercharged muscles stopped the beasts murderous decent into his cheats, holding its horns, he got to his feat and started pushing the bull backward. The crowd didn't know what to do, it wasn't every day you watched someone out muscle a bull with ease.

Alan smiled feral before lifting the bull by its horns, when they started to crack he threw it up and flipped the beast, catching it with his hands on its back. Holding the animal upside down he let go with one hand so he could reach his dagger, once he had it in hand he flipped it up over the beast and as it come down, it would land straight in its heart.

As life left its body Alan continued to hold the animal up with one hand. After a moment of confused cheering he dropped it before walking to the change rooms and disappearing, no one would ever hear of the man again.

("...interesting reads..." went the goblin, feeling that here was talent then, continuing "...keep them coming, I like to read, and unlike a book I have no idea beyond that which you write, livewriting it is then...")

repost from elsewhere

Quote :

What is the purpose of the numbers you sometimes place underneath the pictures you post?
I've seen 34, 98, 72, 60, 28 I think.

"...depends on the livewriter I suppose, mine is an index indicating the original thread page number, where that thread goes up 133 pages, and where too, I have other threads, not that I've ever counted the total number of posts stored now..." mentioned the goblin, knowing that most posters only posted something once, caring nothing for what they posted even yesterday or whenever then, simply they had never stopped to think that here was some reflection of self, for doesn't the maxim go "show me your friends and I'll show you who you are", adding "...ah now, but on forumland it's show me your posts and I'll show you who you are, simply, in a few years time most people will still be tagging threads with whatever one off replies they can come up with, which is their choice I suppose, and I can go along with it too, ah but not for myself, oh no I want something more tangible for my time on forumland here, so a livewriter reposts the post until he gets it right, where everything passes through the focus of the pen, and where perhaps some picture of self is reflected back by it..."


121

("...I am not a troll..." blurts out the goblin again about having bypassed a ban samewhere, talking to his rather unconvinced conscience now, adding "...for if I had been one I wouldn't have used my goblin persona in each post there then...", "...ah, but no doubt goblin, that stage just comes later then doesn't it, and where, may I ask, is your "not getting caught up in sideplots" comment now, for who's caught up in this one then..." replied his conscience, somehow the goblin was simply in two minds at a crossroads here, their being "the path of a coward" against "the path of a fool" again, so he deliberated over his coffee, it's unimportance was obvious and yet that didn't silence the question here, where "silence" too, was an answer of sorts)

repost from elsewhere

Quote :

I recognize that picture. From when El Clint was recycling his bounty payments, cashing each one in several times. "What about Shorty?" "Shorty be hanged, Amigo."

"...yes, I loved that film too..." went the goblin now reminiscing now, adding "...amongst them think I liked "a fist full of dollars" best but they were all good, just they're were madding in a sense, for before them, the good guys were so sane and predictable, then something changed, and one was taken out of the comfortable goodguy/badguy context here, the comic book style had been challenged..."

http://www.123video.nl/playvideos.asp?MovieID=569262

("This is a piece of a story that I was writing until I got writers block on it. One of my rp girls is named after her." she said with a smile. She stop talking for a moment and gently bit her pen.)

Which that she walk a few blocks to a local bar. She could smell the blood on the walls. The bar is called "The Devil's Bowl", were blood is served with wine and beer. Old fashioned goblets lines the tables, it usually brought a load of gothice teens that are into magic and ancient rites enevn thought they know nothing of what they thought they believe in. A deep red hair woman knows that it will be not hard for her to find a job here.

But something odd cought her attention, a man is sitting at the bar dress in white. White is not the usually color to wear in places like this. His immaculate white suit is finely tailor to the man's body. "What is up with this guy?" Rose said aloud to herself. The coloective vampires in the bar arrange around the room gave the man a wide girth. They eye him as warily as rabbits would a wolf. The silence is so heavy that she could swim through it.

As she walk up to the bar, she noticed that his has a silver-stitched cross and also the the eye of the divine in the center of it. But the most starking is the mask he that is wearing. It black and have cracks running thru it. The eyes are shards of blood stained colored glass, and the teeth are metal spikes align into a crud reseblance of vampire teeth.

("...reads well, a little tidying and it could inspire the next bit..." suggested the goblin)


repost from elsewhere, the goblin rejoining somewhere banned, because they wouldn't come clean about his banning to their members there

"...well mortals, if you ever wanted more proof of the power of the persona contained within an individualistic writing style..., ..." related the goblin now, knowing that there was no way to prove identity here, not that it mattered, his being anonymous and all that, adding "...you see, most writers try to write in a style that just makes them mere clones of one another, simply they write like everyone else does, so like everyone else then results from it...", the goblin paused, saluted xxxxx again, but was really amazed at the thread's progress here, saying "...no one writes like you xxxxx, your hitcount vouches for all this in a way that none of my words ever could...", and with that the goblin bowed out once more, taking a copy of this post with him, after all, goblins were not to be trusted now but then again he would have preferred this forum to come clean about his being banned then