hence the silence.
Thursday, April 09, 2009
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| Copyright © 2006-2014 Anna MR. All rights reserved. Reproduction in whole or in part without permission is prohibited. (All comments © the individual authors.) |
| Copyright © 2006-2014 Anna MR. All rights reserved. Reproduction in whole or in part without permission is prohibited. (All comments © the individual authors.) |
40 comments:
Dear Anna MR,
The silence has been deep and profound. I hope Fat Thursday finds you singing, dancing - or whatever one does besides eating.
P.P.
carnso
Lovely, stunning music.
And it's good to see you after forty days and forty nights too!
Oh, and now the word ver = listen, which says it all.
Welcome home. We thought you had become a hermit in the desert, gathering the morning dew to drink and what not.
I didn't give up anything for Lent. I forgot. It's good for the soul to have the self-discipline to deny yourself something you want, irrespective of the religious side of it. I used to not drink on a Sunday, usually because I drank so much the rest of the week that it seemed like jolly good sense to have a day off.
I might have my own 40-day private Lent.
Thanks for the Easter seeds honey, they came today, though the envelope was no longer sealed! Amazed they didn't fall out. Hope you okay. x
Ach, I know I needed a comma before honey, it is late!
Welcome back! You've been missed.
That's easy for you to say, "sexy"....
Funny thing, Trousers - Sexy has been over to mine and said almost exactly the same thing - and on several different posts (you'll have to take my word for it as I've removed them). I thought it was all my fault for putting the word beaver in my post (I know, I know, but Sexy is clearly on a one-track mission). But surely "This blog has been observing Lent" is without a smidgeon of a spot, even from the point of view of one with a mind as warped as Sexy's.
The times we live in friends, I dunno. Speaking of which, how long is your lent Anna/? He Is Risen, you know, and you can eat chocolate now, wear gay (as in colourful) clothes, sing hallelujah and - er - even post something if you want.
Oh gawd, gawd! The WVLs have said baton. Talk about provocative. Sexy will be getting ideas, for sure.
The aptly-named Sexy hasn't commented on my blog, even though I'm in Hong Kong. I feel left out.
Thanks for making me laugh out loud Trousers, with your riposte to Sexy.
If anyone wants to know what profound bon mots these are, I can get someone to translate... I think we can probably guess, though.
Nice to see you back, Anna (the real intention of my comment before Sexy distracted me)
Oh dear, and now the word ver = laysishr.
Well, signs, I tend to use enough swearwords and everything (I've heard it's big and clever) to expect to attract such "comments" over at mine but so far - thankfully - nada, nihil etc.
Oh and I'm glad I made you laugh lottiep.
Now then, where's that anna mr?
yes, Trousers, where is she? I have a theory: this not posting thing is the new blogging - haven't you noticed? Soon it will be just you and me left, unfashionable fogeys who still bash out posts and reply to comments just like they did in the olden days. And I have another theory: this is why entities such as sexy are moving in, it's a nightmare - think Invasion of the Bodysnatchers and you'll get the picture. Because, no listen, perhaps sexy is actually Anna Mr horribly transformed and trying to communicate with us in the only language now available to her.
It's the only conclusion that makes any sense.
Yes signs, there may well be weight in your theory: blogging was once the new going out (possibly when the going out was the new staying in or something).
Not posting seems very much de rigeur these days, I agree. I would hope that such a fate hasn't befallen our lovely ms mr though. Or if it has, that it can be somehow remedied via a Dr Who-style intervention, fiendish in its ingenuity.
Yes, Trousers, it must be something like that. I feel sure we are dealing with a case of alien abduction here and we would be poor friends if we did not do something to help her. Unfortunately I have absolutely no idea what to do. Now if only we could get hold of TPE, I am sure he (being a Time Lord) would be able to assist us. But where he? What a predicament, to be sure.
I would agree, signs, that TPE is the man (ok, Time Lord) to help us unravel this whole rigmarole. Well it's a rum do if it's even half a rigmarole, and I don't even know if unravelling is what you do with rigmaroles.
If only I knew how to work my sonic statcounter or suchlike, then TPE could be alerted.
I also wonder, might ms mr be a Time Lady?
Trousers you are surely not telling me you have a sonic statcounter that you don't know how to work? Our friends and even the whole universe may be depending on you. It's a rum do, to be sure, and I am having existential questions popping up in my consciousness, to whit: are we now the main players in this drama or merely the sub-plot? And who is to say? But a twist in the plot is imminent, Trousers, I can feel it.
signs, I've been looking for the instructions and I can't find them anywhere. Which just won't do, I suppose, if our very existence is in dire peril.
I mean, the thought of not having my Fall lps to listen to - not least because there would be no me to actually do the listening - well, words just fail me...
It will be even more of a rum do if I am compelled to desperately roam around shouting for he whom/him who (delete according to grammar fascism) may be pivotal in lending us a Time Lordy hand - a tense pair of trousers anxiously calling out TPE...TPE!!. You get funny looks from people for that kind of thing.
I shall, to whit, keep looking in my sonic cardboard boxes to find those instructions.
Oh - hang on...
Never mind Lent, it's nearly Whitsun...
Joking apart, in his early years, TPE did actually look a bit like David Tennant - you know, dashing, raffishly handsome, etc. (He's still dashing, and raffishly handsome, but looks less like David Tennant.) So you may be on to something there.
Even this severe provocation may not be able to tempt him to comment, though...
It's not lent anymore
This blog is observing lent from an ever-increasing distance.
Hope all is well, ms mr.
ok, we're onto you, Anna. Help is at hand.
Trousers? Trousers - what took you so long?
I come bearing a bowl of summer fruit to leave outside your cave. But I see there's no grille so maybe you could come outside just for a while and sit with us in the sun?
Just an outstretched hand then? We miss you.
Sexy is just a spambot. Delete with impunity.
Click your heels three times, and you will be home in Summer.
ah well, Seestah, wherever y'are, keep singing
adieu, mwah and (inexplicably) lollis
Signs, that's a fantastic link: I'm glad I clicked on it.
Excuse my extreme intemperance here, but:
ANNA MR! OI!
Sorry for shouting.
seriously, this is torture. I love to check out this wonderful blog by a melancholy poet of a woman. Where has she gone? Come back to us!
In the palace of the snow,
Anna lay dreaming...
Not wanting to break silence...well only a little...so hello (whispered) while other friends are away x
ps I have a habit of looking away when the wordver comes up, but this one insists on 'misgumpl'...
plugg
ha ha ha! (?)
I came to bring you something I thought you might like.
Hope all is well.
Lx
ok Boffie, I am just (like I promised) checking that you really are outta here. Hi Lottie, it's good you brought provisions for her journey. Can't see hide nor hair of her, so she must have escaped. This is the good news. The other news is that she is (for her sins) stuck with looking like Eric Idle. I think I'd better leave quickly before I pick up the Robbie Coltrane look. Though actually, I think that has already begun - judging by my widening girth.
Be seeing you in the ethereals.
Christ on a bike. Right.
P.P. Anonymous, [ciao bello], housut, Montag, Mr Z, Ms Legs, Navas, Reading the Signs, [you infernal fiend], LottieP, Gael, Nicola, Zhoen, Other Anonymous of Gifted Flattery - hold it right there and calm down, for crying out loud. Just sit there, in the corner, please, and *quietly*, too [this means you in particular, Infernal Signs - and, come to think of it, you as well, housut the horrible], while I exchange a few words with Sexy here [and not a peep out of you - yes, particularly you two. You know I mean you].
你好, Sexy, 怎麼是您做, beautiful? 我爱你非常, as well you know. 來與我和我們將留下所有這些地獄blog人後邊并且私奔對一個遙遠地方，我們倆. You know it makes sense. [Actually, you lot in the corner, it might be an idea if you turned to face the corner round about now, and popped your digits in your ears - it's getting rather intimate here between Sexy and myself.] I長期為您的中國食物和更多比我能說的您的DVD性亂語。 這是，嚴重，我將說此的僅有的時間，因此您應該劫掠您的永恆幸福的機會，在它飛行像氣球之前 . Take it or leave it, Sexy my dear. We only live once. 愛不是愛，它改變發現 . Don't say you haven't been warned.
Alright then, so that's that pretty impressively wrapped up, wouldn't you say so, my wonder blogistas? Hello, hei, hola and aloha. How are you all doing? I must say I'm not only super impressed but also moved to tears by the friendship - the faithful friendship - you have been displaying here, in spite of my being (as someone in the know so knowingly pointed out) "a disgrace to the profession [of blog-hosting]". And this I mean in all earnestness, so now that I'm through with the embarrassingly genuine and weepy stuff, you can take your fingies out of your ears and listen to the bollocks which may emanate from my finger-lips. There are simply too many things to reply to, too much water under the bridge, too many days and nights (and, let's face it, weeks and months and seasons), just too many of *you* for me to adequately reply and express my express gratitude and appreciation. Suffice it to say you are all expressly gratitued and appreciated, by the worst blog host in the known universe (and that's saying a fair deal, wouldn't you agree?). I have lented rather more than most people would bother with, but in exchange, I have found something rather special, which - unless I twist my brain again - I may well reveal to you all in A Post, before too long. Oh yes verily (but please, don't be holding your breath, unless you're better at it than Houdini). Thank you for coming here, thank you for being here, thank you for keeping the place so warm and welcoming (and free of cobwebs - mostly), for all the music and fruit and fun and games and conversation and all-round goodness you have brought with the sheer goodness of your souls, my dear hearts. It may have appeared to have gone unnoticed and (oh woe) even unappreciated by the sorry excuse of a hostess whose ramshackle blog-shack you've had the misfortune to grace with your presence - but do please remember that appearances may, can, and indeed, do deceive from time to time, and do not judge books by their covers, honey by the bees, mothers by the daughters, ones by the others, or (more than anything) me by my behaviour.
Sorted.
I thank you all, I thank my producer, I thank the God of All Agnostics for, well, most things (apart from wasps, which He could have left out of creation altogether, as much as I can tell), but very deffo definitely for you company. Thank you. Goodnight. We'll be here all week (maybe). Try the veal (it's certified vegetarian).
Much love and plentiful friendship from me to the bally lot of you mad folks. (Maybe not Sexy, though. No, definitely not you, Sexy. You had your chance.)
x x x x x x x x x x x x
I am weeping here - weeping! Penance seems to have refined and strengthened you with great purgatorial force, and I am not talking laxatives. How can I sit calmly and quietly while all this is going on? Oh blimey, and you've just put up something to show us all that you have emerged, butterfly-like from you cocoon of Eric Idleness.
Sexy is going to be - well never mind what Sexy is doing. What are we going to do now that you are back in Blogoslavia, burning bright? No need to answer that one, and the WVLs agree: nologr
Och, stop your blubbing immediately, you big girl's blouse, you (that'll be you, Signs, k?). No need to make a scene and bring disgrace upon yourself and (what's worse) this house and (worst of all) me. But yes, you're quite right, penance is as good for the soul as laxatives are for other things, and (if I say so myself - and I do) I must say I was rather impressed with my Traditional Chinese. It seemed to roll so effortlessly from my finger-lips, don't you think? I mean, I realised I was going to be really quite good at it, but I never guessed it was going to be quite this magic. (I'm taking it as a given that you, you poor soul, don't speak or indeed, write a word of Traditional Chinese, so you just have to take it from me, some of what I said there to poor hapless Sexy was sheer magic. Pure Shakespeare, in fact. Oh yes verily.)
Incidentally, I know what you'll be doing now that I'm back in Blogoslavia. You'll be hammering out some nano words, maybe as we speak right now. Keep at it, Prince Signs, don't let anything (even me) distract you.
x
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