A Master of Escapism

Every word, every letter, individually checked and rechecked, written and rewritten, muddied through disuse. My word, dear reader, how long it has been! And yet, a reluctant few of you made the unacknowledged effort of checking back daily on the off chance that I may have sprouted from my cocoon sporting symmetrical wings of poetic beauty. How I have let you down through my own indulgence. I'm afraid, proud pilgrim, that my time at home caused me so much joy and prosperity that the potential to become angry all-but vanished completely. It would have been wrong to swim against the current that has made this blog internationally renowned and post when smiling gleefully in my nest of warm contentment. For this my beloved is solely to blame, though I'm sure you wouldn't wish to deny me the chance of recharging my batteries with a few weeks in the midst of rainy England. Indeed, I have once again returned to sunny Arizona with renewed enthusiasm for my blogging campaign, but I cannot shake the shame of leaving you for so long. Never fear, for just fifteen minutes into my routine catch-up on all things Hitchens (now referred to as my "Hitch-up") I have discovered this absolute gem for you. Who is to say your faith would go unrewarded? Enough self-indulgence. Time for the opposite.