I’m daytripping to Niagara Falls this weekend. Yes, the touristy bit. Can anybody suggest fun activities besides getting baked and going to the aviary, looking at the water, and taking advantage of the romantic honeymoon atmosphere by messing around in an alley somewhere?
Very little else to say at the moment. I’ve been in a minor mood for a little while due to some more shit with my French thesis advisor regarding a reference for doctorate applications. At this point, though he is a fine, fine writer and a great academic mind, I must tell you I’ll never be able to write here who he is or where you can find his books because I’m pretty sure That Fucking Bastard Asshole Crossing The Street + Me in a Car = Kablooey. He alone fills me with doubts about the viability of continuing in the academic world – do I really want to be around such cunty people for the rest of my academic life and get underpaid for it?
He hasn’t said no, by the way. If he said no, that would be straightforward, you see. And much as I adore some things about the French, their national ability to straightforwardly cut through the Gordian knots of a problem as complex and confusing as WRITING ME A FUCKING REFERENCE AFTER GIVING ME A HIGH HONOURS MARK ON MY FUCKING THESIS JURY AFTER BEING MY THESIS ADVISOR FOR OVER A YEAR has never inspired me with awe in the normal sense of the word. I should have done what my shrink said and sent him some maple syrup with the letter asking for it. I should have played the ass-kissing game. Now instead of an ass-kissing game, I get to play an even more boring and morally humiliating ass-reaming game.
I hate him I hate him I hate him I hate him.