I'm interrupting the extended awkward silence with a word of explanation. I'm smack in the middle of one last, stiff dose of academia in the form of a month-long pair of summer classes that are as intense as they are swift. I'm holding my own, but suffering some pretty nasty side effects which include an inability to perform intellectually-based tasks outside of class.
In other news:
My recent publishing portfolio is so slim as to have called into question my ability to secure press credentials for an upcoming event I hoped to cover.
No word on the aforementioned art job at the desirable locale. I'm actually starting to think the whole notion was just a vivid dream.
These days, I don't read anything that isn't written in a dry, jargon-esque tone capable of inducing instant slumber.
I signed up for a summer painting class at the local art gallery.
I recently underwent the penultimate procedure in my staged hairstyle reconstruction plan
Summer can't get here soon enough.