The Return of Suite

Well, here we are or, more accurately, here I am with all of you being somewhere else, most likely at a party I wasn't invited to. After a multi-week enforced period of time on the shelf (no real shelves involved due to my strong dislike of splinters and all splinter removal experiences), I have returned. Questions such as "Where did I go?" and "What did I do when I was there?" and "Why are my glasses so smudged all the time?" will all be answered in due time, but only if you are nice to me and by nice I mean the way one treats their dear old grandmother right up until she is arrested for mail fraud or high treason.

Let me be the first to say "Welcome back Suite!" I could go on and on about how patient I was in your absence, how I enjoyed the break from writing and how I grew as a person, got better in touch with my inner spirit, soul searched and meditated and became one with nature but you and I both know that all of that would be a lie. A lie so vicious, so intimate, so impressive that I dare not make it as I have learned the hard way that living a lie is much harder than it sounds unless properly dressed for the weather. 

In actual fact this break from Suite was a whirlwind of paranoid panicking, crazed checking and re-checking if the update was finally complete, and soul-sucking withdrawal symptoms akin to being forced by my loved ones to finally quit my completely fictitious morphine addiction. I've been tempted to tell people it was like being incarcerated in a white collar "resort" facility as I've always dreamed of telling people as much, but my relationship with these people is so tenuous I didn't want to risk it.

But the key point I am attempting to make is that I am overjoyed to be writing and publishing on Suite again! It is so exciting to be able to once again share my thoughts and ideas without fear of reprisals or lashings. To be clear, there will almost definitely be reprisals and/or lashings in my near future, I'm just choosing not to be afraid of them. There is just so much to say and so little time, although the precise relationship between the two would probably best be described not in writing but on a Cartesian graph, or at least not by my writing and its vastly limited array of adverbs.

Now that Suite is back, I can finally unfurl my brow and look less curmudgeonly. I can also once again write from the heart, or at least from the kidneys as it is so hard to be accurate when it comes to internal organs especially with my kindergarten-level understanding of human anatomy. Now that Suite is open for business, I promise to return to my usual odd, random and funny pieces about food, family, fiction and fleecing those good-for-nothing sheep for all they are worth (I kid, I kid, I kid. I like those sheep, and besides, my beloved great aunt Gladys was 35% sheep). 

With the return of Suite I can now also finally dedicate my time to breaking down the walls of injustice or just pulling back the curtains on injustice or at least asking kindly for injustice to behave itself once and for all. But, in all seriousness, I promise to once again spend my time writing and writing and writing only stopping when the custodial staff needs to lock up for the night or I'm reduced to a quivering mass similar to jello. My resolve is strong, my passion is crazy, my typing skills are still absolutely embarassing and my muffins are cooling on a rack in the kitchen (note: the muffins are totally symbolic).

When I couldn't write for Suite I was lost like a little girl in a corn maze, or like a little boy I guess, but for some reason I often imagine I'm a 11 year old girl lost in a corn maze. When I couldn't write for Suite, I found myself writing pages and pages of random, inane words that would have been a cause for concern except that I surrounded myself with others who were far and away much bigger causes for concern, making me seem much saner in comparison. When I couldn't write for Suite I was but a shadow of my former self, which is saying a lot as I'm often mistaken for someone else's shadow at the best of times. And, when I couldn't write for Suite I stood in my room cast in moonlight bouncing a small ball against the floor humming ragtime songs.

But, here we are. We are here. Suite is back. Suite is finally back and ready to take names. I am ready to resume being ultra-literal, tangential, self-mocking and water-proof. I am ready to make others laugh, cry, think and yearn for a simpler time before this whole world wide web was invented. So draw up a chair or set of chairs if you happen to have a large collection of chairs just gathering dust in the corner. I'll be the writer, you can be the reader and then we will eat a huge plate of digestion-hampering nachos. It will be grand.

Welcome back Suite. I, for one, am happy as a clam. Really. And a particularly happy clam at that and not a regular old down-in-the-dumps clam like we always hear about.