"My group used to have a reputation for being heavy drinkers. Then I hired all these pussies."

Four pints and a glass of whisky with your advisor does wonders for the group dynamic. I asked questions I never should’ve asked, got responses I never should’ve gotten, and generally got a good flavor of guy I admire tremendously, masked with sarcasm and insults as it was. He cracked jokes about Americans, told me I was a clueless mathematician, and then shook my hand for agreeing to drink anything he bought. Somewhere in the fray I got him to agree to give me eight weeks vacation if I publish a paper that gets cited over 130 times. When my first paper goes platinum, you can expect to see a whole lot of Joe Scott around town.

I suppose I hate to admit that I give so much credit to a guy just for going out to the bar, but that’s my outlook on academics. He can spit and drink with the best of ‘em because no one in the world can fuck with what he does from nine to five. That’s the goal, and that’s why knowing that he agrees with anything I believe in, not least of which my rebellion, is a huge boost.

Interesting Weekend

32 hours in NYC. Got hooked up with a sweet pad in Brooklyn, took the worlds cheapest cruise around Manhattan (w/ dinner and free wine), and saw a Detroit band in one of the coolest bars on the east coast. Drank with the band until 3:00, had a completely random run in with an old friend on a three hour subway misadventure and made it back to Chinatown for the 6:30 bus.

Four hour nap, a breath of Boston and onto the 2:00 ferry to the Cape. 90 minute nap.

24 hours in Provincetown, MA. Two whale watches beyond belief; no sight of land and little more than an arms length from a beast 50 feet long and weighing several thousand pounds. 10 of the 24 hours spent out at sea, fixed at the prow with 40 mph ocean wind in my face.

I’m convinced once again that I’ll need to carve out time for a dream I’ve been having for years. I’m buying a boat; an ocean-faring boat. Not soon, but sometime. And I’ll need a crew (you know who you are). Expect a letter from me sometime in the next ten years. It’s going to say that you need several months off of work. I’m not sure where we’re going, but my boat will have enough rum for the long haul. It’ll have bunks and a library and we’ll do Kung Fu on the deck. We’ll be out for weeks getting tossed about by the most un-fuck-with-able force on the planet. Go for a swim in water that extends for miles beneath your feet. Count on it.