why posting is like painting to the goblin

the goblin was mostly happy with whatever dailylife threw his way, "...yes it's ever a controlled madness isn't it, for one's dailylife doesn't neatly follow "cause and effect" each time, any more than one's mind is merely a mechanism made up of connecting neurons that neatly thinks up its thoughts, no the mind is pallet, it produces some painting that pictures something through a myriad of imperfect brush strokes, thus the painting of one's dailylife in one's mind too, are the end result of these imperfections..." mused the goblin, who repeated "...controlled madness, my mind is a controlled madness at best, with umpteen necessary and unnecessary speculations and reactions built up from experiencing the environment around it, and then created upon itself again in its own reflections here...", something that made the goblin think back to his being anonymous and his own personal goal here, that of creating some gap between the functions of his dailylife and that other part of him seemed above those earthly binds, the part that held fast to its own set of values, continuing "...so you see, it's not just the bookworld here but dailylife too that hates anonymity because there is no "fame and fortune" to be bought or corrupted by..."