Sorry for the relative delay in activity here, but there hasn't really been much to report. Shortly after posting that last missive (regarding my fifteen nanoseconds of blathering on WNYC), we packed the kids and gear back up into Mom's long-suffering Ford Taurus and sped back out to my sister's place in Quogue for one of the remaining weekends of the Summer. I kept up my e-mail vigil, hoping to hear back from one of the fabled "four outlets" that I've interviewed with in the hopes of impending employment, but the only e-mails I've been getting are the usual yakkety-yak from the Killing Joke list and the odd message from one of my wisenheimer friends. No one offering me thick wads of cash or anything like that. Insert big heavy sigh here.
Quogue was nice, though. We had at least one sunny beach day, which the kids loved. During some of the less-beach-friendly days, we hopped over to the nearby Quogue Wildlife Refuge for a long, pastoral stroll around the trails. I've been exploring that place since I was Charlotte's age, and its expanse, isolation and chilling quiet have always captivated me. There's also a great "Blair Witch Project"/"Into The Wild"/"Picnic at Hanging Rock" sorta vibe there --- i.e. "they wandered wordlessly into the woods and were never heard from again," and I love that sorta shit. Regardless, we made it out alive.
Charlotte continues to be somewhat mercurial in the behavior department. We're chalking it up to a combination of factors. She's clearly now noticing all the attention that her little brother is getting, and there's probably a twinge of jealousy. Secondly, she's in a bizarre limbo period between being still somewhat of a baby herself and being a "big girl." Most of the time, she's disarmingly sweet, but her capacity to lose her little temper and become entirely irrational is hair-triggered. As such, there were more than a few "time outs" in the last five days, which have been honestly exhausting for everyone. Again, there's nothing here out of the ordinary, but we're hoping she passes through this patch soon.
Despite his penchant for pungent diaper-filling, Oliver's remained his happy little self, and is becoming more coherently communicative by the day. Unlike Charlotte at that age, however, Oliver is a tireless troublemonkey -- effortlessly finding the exposed outlets, jagged edges, tight spaces and other "hot spots" in any given space. In this capacity, he requires somewhat constant supervision, lest he knock over entire book shelves, climb into the fireplace and/or stick his little fingers a fan. He also insists on getting up at 6 am, which is frankly a big ass bummer.
Motivated by the hope of some activity on the job-search front, I boarded a city-bound Hampton Jitney last night, leaving Peggy and the kids back out in Quogue to enjoy the fleeting last gasps of the Summer (although weather-wise, it feels like Autumn's already here). On the bus ride home, my iPod decided to freeze again. It played music, but I just simply couldn't turn it off. That suited the trip home fine, but now it's pretty fucked up beyond all recognition. Great.
Back here in this uncharacteristically quiet apartment, nothing is happening. I still haven't heard back from any of "The Four," and a phone interview I was supposed to have with a media consultant friend of a friend didn't materialize. To get a change of scenery, I walked out into the rainy afternoon and bought myself a copy of Howard Devoto's debut album, Jerky Versions Of The Dream (the single off which being the apt song, "Rainy Season"), which has finally been released on disc after twenty-four years. Now I'm back in front of my computer. Waiting. Always waiting.
I hate waiting.
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