Sometimes this blog reminds me of a slow lingering break-up I endured in my late 20s/early 30s/early 60s. You know instinctively that once the love has faded, it’s impossible to rekindle. But that didn’t stop me from unpicking the wound before it had a chance to stop bleeding nevermind hatch a scab.
We’ve had the silent treatment, the exasperated sighs of it’s-not-you-it’s-me. I even went so far as to delete all remnants of the url and change the lock. There was also final rolling credits so there would be no mistaking it for a quick commercial break. I began to see other social media without really enjoying the promiscuity. But I could always be seduced by the unfettered sound of my own voice. The familiar scent of anonymity reeling me in back onto the unmade keyboard to undress thoughts from the banal to the ridiculous.
The fee on this blog expires on Sunday next. I’m not going to renew it. Readers move on, and eventually writers catch up with them as they lose their zeal and their motivations stray elsewhere. The desire to write hasn’t waned, it just needs a new hanger to avoid further creases. Being a mixed ability person, it took me a while to twig this. That I stuck at a blog for three years is an unrivalled feat, as those of you who know me can verify. I am not known for my sticking power. Or staying in the same place too long. And only two of you know me back on Earth.
Anonymity is fast-becoming a dirty word, which seems a shame. It is a safe place for the reluctant speaker. A pixelated photo disguising folk to give them freedom to think and protect those around them. And yet, in its own not entirely unpredictable way, anonymity has managed to grip my flow in a headlock. It’s a relief of sorts because even I no longer enjoy the rigid privacy. Hey, ask me anything. Still, all credit to it for giving me a workshop to store my scraps of thoughts and tinker about with them in peace.
For a woman with too much to say at times, I was surprised my own favourite works were those cobbled together from few words. So, I’m thinking of downsizing and trading in lengthy posts for a crack at shorter formats. I might throw myself into a poetry workshop of some sort. By some sort, I mean an on-line version where I can avoid civility, eye-contact, and shame. I might even get a blo… oh, nothing .
Thanks a million for giving me an aul follow and crowd-funding my own form of madness with your presence. Next stop with a few of you is a pint. It’ll happen some time. G’luck with your own respective life-enduring endeavours. You’ve got to do what you must. Blogger today, Enya-impersonating taxidermist tomorrow. Who knows.
So long.
Insert awkward hug here.
department of speculation 
Awkward hug back.
I’ve so enjoyed my visits. Maybe we will meet some day or I might stumble upon the new you online.
Take care and enjoy whatever new writing you do.
Waaahhhhsobsob.
And all those sentiments returned to you with extra laughs, Comrade Tric. Will be keepin’ on keepin an eye on ya 🙂
You have my email. Don’t be a stranger. Or be s rockstar and stage a comeback!
Don’t be a stranger 😉
There is a limit to the amount of distressing news one can process in a week; Barry Manilow is gay!? And now this!? Bugger (no pun intended). Will miss your rollicking riffs and ironic asides. As Shelley said of his friend Horace Smith, ‘wit & sense, virtue & human knowledge; all that might make this dull world a business of delight’
Ah thanks for quoting Shelley’s take on the vagaries of wittering on. I’m assuming he had plenty to say on that, too. I will miss the interaction of my silent gratitude with your quiet but always welcomed and appreciated presence. You’re real name isn’t Mandy, is it? That would be too much to hope for. 🙂
No not even Lola!
Ah ha. It’s Copacabana isn’t it. Knew it.
Ah here! If I’d seen this before yesterday, I would have tried to bully you into staying in person…
You do now also realise that you prevented me from grabbing the mic and making a holy show of us all. Your work here on Earth is done 🙂
Aw no! You’ve ruined Monday 😦 Because it’s really all about me don’t you know.
Please tell me you’ll stay on Twitter, I’ll miss your witty musings otherwise.
There’s nothing else left in the cookie jar, CC. Tweeting is the mindless eating of broken jammie dodgers nobody else wants. I’m always game.
I’ll take a trip up North if you threaten to leave twitter.
That probably sounds a bit more menacing than it should.
Yeah, like, would you really want to inflict that torture on yourself? Meet you in Monaghan. Oh no, wait, they’re still only in 2016.
Seems like I’ve read this with one day left for you to receive my comment! 😦
Well, this is bad news for Easter! (appropriately read on Good Friday.) I always look forward to dipping in and reading a few of your posts in one enjoyable sitting. As I also enjoy your sudden bursts of comments on my own blog. I’m sad to see you go, although I can understand how the momentum to keep posting on a blog that only a handful of people read does cause one to wonder if one’s time wouldn’t be better spent setting up a worm farm. (I set up a worm farm in January).
You were, however, one of my inspirations, for steadfastly writing a blog that, like my own, has no specified theme and just riffs on whatever you are thinking about that day, without attempting to try and create a commercially viable “brand” out of your thoughts. So I’m sorry to think that in the end, when everything crumbles and the dust settles, maybe it’s true after all that only lifestyle blogs will remain.
Wishing you all the best with your future endeavours, xx – Dorothy Parker.