the goblin's scrapbook blog

[fleamailman]

the goblin simply understood that once the thread was closed by someone it became a book, “...ah but I don't want to be a book, I am still very much alive...” declared the goblin who had fallen into a book a few time but he always restarted elsewhere

[/quote]

[fleamailman]

the goblin had been admiring the wet weather, like a toad on a toadstool, simply that today too promised to be dull at best, as he readies himself for the same old tour to the mountains under those now all too familiar ominous rainclouds again, the goblin, lifting his spirits to the occasion, starts singing "...I'll be going through the motions when it rains, I'll be going through the motions when it rains, I'll be going though the motions, going though the motions, going though the motions, I'll am going though the motions she pours..." to an onlooking day, who is not really impressed, while the goblin's "song against the weather" continues throughout, somehow leaving the only real question as to who would break first, "...ah but I have the advantage of the Internet..." smirked the goblin against the grayness above


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[fleamailman]

any "word", once written, lives on adrift the Internet where, sooner or later, one came across it again thinking "...oh yes that was me then too..." before moving on to the next "word", so perhaps for that reason alone no one can ever really have the last word, the word has only itself, as in infinite, against the short span that it was looked at, "... no not "who has the last word" it's "which word had the last person viewing it"..." ventured the goblin to a sea of infinite words to choose from now


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[fleamailman]

the goblin thanked the posters for their attempt to covert the inevitable course of things and sympathized deeply but alas time had given the last post once more back to its rightful goblin who loved this thread because no matter how his own fortune changed here at least he like anyone else could win just by posting but he reminded himself that this, like any other post, might well be his last so he always wanted to post something he would like to read later even if in fact he wouldn't be able to being no longer in this world "...anyway we goblins are silly about leaving pretty footprints in the snowy path of life..." he thought, "...more snow will fall and all would be forgotten but here we "tread on" on this thread then..."


6

[fleamailman]

Quote:what do I win

the goblin reflected upon the posters question "what do we win" and then realized that poster could have anything he or she wanted because either the goblin would be "alive" to stop it or "dead" where it no longer mattered to the goblin, but anyway a phrase sprung to his mind "...the action is the reward in itself..." as the promoted all previous posters upstairs again

[fleamailman]

repost from elsewhere, halloween

"...morning in mourning..." concluded the goblin trying to make out the buildings as he looked across the city's skyline, Geneva was Venice today, fog and mystery, it seemed that he could choose amongst his fears this view being so quiet, and although the goblin had no reason to think of death behind the happiness of this Halloween, the ritual and its reason remained, he would cast those thoughts aside but the mist had closed in now as if to say "...come dance with us..."

[fleamailman]

"...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

[fleamailman]

"...good morning, not sure..." said the goblin pushing reality away a bit longer, the sandman had taken him for quite a ride last night through his land of Nodd, and now this square boxlike room in the stark morning light felt like a prison cell born of sobriety "...so where are my dreams now..." sighed the goblin at it

[fleamailman]

"...abracadabra..." went the goblin calling to somewhere within to show the way, well it was often like this, that something that the goblin had thought of in the day, perhaps just a line, would grow into a post of its own if he just looked long enough at the slot, no nothing planned, as if a magician had just popped his hand into the hat and pulled out a rabbit making the audience wonder in surprise, ah, but only the magician knew the truth, of what the rabbit was probably saying to him, saying "...OK I'm the wrong rabbit not meant for this thread but mum's the word, promise..."

[fleamailman]

the goblin simply understood that if the "last post" thread was locked, that it was just like rain stopping play, no one would actually think that the weather had won, only that the game would now have to be played elsewhere


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