How To Write Live Like a Goblin on Details of Daily Life

Another Monday, another post by the Goblin. Yet again he ponders on a topic all artists know all too well.

***

the goblin could relate to the slot, which was a lie since he’s usually daydreaming instead, at times the goblin needed a break as if to step a few feet back from the canvas to see if what he was portraying was still the big picture in his view while at other times the goblin needed to get up real close to outline its finer details “…the problem starts when one goes too far in either direction where the portrayal becomes “distant” on the one hand or where it becomes “over detailed” on the other, yet this slot never minds, do you now…”, the slot, eying the goblin’s coffee again, replied “…not at all goblin, I’ll eat anything of offer and still be hungry afterwards…” and then smiling the slot just adds “…in fact, it’s amazing goblin that you even try to get the essence of your existence into your posts each time, surely you must know how impossibly futile that must be…”, “…well slot, I just like these odds I guess…” replied as the goblin as if wondering if, like in the film then, he too, could somehow throw that huge washbasin through those bars of dailylife, except unlike the film perhaps there was nowhere out there to go to, no, it was just his trying then, simply the goblin was ever trying

***

Do you ever need to escape?

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One thought on “How To Write Live Like a Goblin on Details of Daily Life

  1. (“…good choice mouse, and thanks for choosing it too…” went the goblin confessing to being under the weather of late, explaining “…well not quite the weather in this case more like under the season actually, but if you want to know what it’s like, it’s probably like what you women get your once a month, save that with me it’s once a year for the whole month, and much as would like to live in the depths of some cave like most of my fellow goblins do, I have taken it upon myself to live in switzerland surrounded by a present f*****g pine trees, where alas no amount of coffee in the bistro over a laptop ever seems to alleviate the affliction of one’s pollinated nostrils now, and where questions like will I live, was this life, and when will they stop, just rise to the fore…”)

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