writing to hear myself write

I have decided to put pen to paper and blog again. This has been no self-imposed exile. It has been imposed upon me. I am not staging a comeback, but merely reestablishing residency. Work obligations and necessary distractions have prevented me from fulfilling the duties for which a byline requires.

These opening sentences are not however the beginnings that justify the means. And this entry should not be taken as said attempt at blogging as I have not fully made up my mind what topic I want to use for my debut, my coming out, my Sweet 41.

I have been plagued by wrongthink and false starts, and the consequences have been reams of blank pages and unused kilobytes.
I have saved a tree but lost the forest. Etcetera, etc..

But fear not for I feel a blog coming on. Once I can get past this little music festival called SXSW (which will never catch on; I give it two years, tops) and that nagging little virus called spring fever, I have every confidence that I can put actions into words. I have utterly convinced myself of éclat and the fact that you have read this far means that I have convinced you as well.

I shall triumphantly return to the notepad with the weight of those before me like Maugham and Proust and Seuss squarely on my shoulders, helping me to forge my way back into literary society.
My cotillion begins right this very minute, and the band can strike up once I finish this sente....