And lo, on the third day...

The Barossa valley. One of numerous fascinating places outside Adelaide.

Pardon me for not being in the internet lately, I have a note. After submitting, I was whisked away in the sky by a wing-ed bird which nay flap but contains muffins to the mysterious destination people insist on calling Melbourne. I attended a two day workshop there, which was fantastic. Significant celebrations were reserved until Friday night, whereupon I and the usual suspects got spectacularly drunk. Highlights:

• One of my brother's lecturers from Melb Uni made some fast moves on a really, really drunk young lady. One of her friends tried to drag her away, a biffo on the street ensued. We watched through the blinds at the front of the bar. It was so beautifully tragic as they had a tug of war over the girl, and then had a face-to-face yelling match. You couldn't script, cast, and stage such a tragic scene. Bitterness truly is the pallbearer of death.
  
• My backpack became a wandering bar, replete with coke, red bull, and three bottles of bourbon. We made friends with the chick who owns the bar, and she gave us 9 drink vouchers. Those shots tasted sweeter than the milk from the nipples of Lady Sweetness herself.
  
• Woke up Steve's floor, not feeling so flash. He had gone to work, but left me a muffin in a bag, and some copies of 'Too Much Coffee Man'. Sweeter still.
  

Drove to Adelaide, attended conference. Around other people for too long. The only time I've had to myself is taking a shower, or taking a dump. You need a break when you're looking forward to the next time you're gonna back one out.

On a lighter note, my presentation went smashingly, and several top people were in attendence, although not as many as I'd hoped. Nevertheless, I was given a solid invitation to go visit a chap to do some research in the south of France at a top research institute, and also the possibility of a post-doc in Trondheim in Norway next year. Bonza! Into my stew of options ye go. Also, I've thought rather seriously about getting a job on an oil rig in WA through my brother's connections. Pros: 40 bucks an hour, 38% tax rate, involves helicopters, company owns resort island that you live on while not on the rig, and of course the opportunity to hang out with swarthy men wearing singlets capping spurting oil pipes. Cons: None really, except losing momentum on an academic career distinctly lacking in helicopters.

And today I flew to Bris-vegas, to start my Quantum info theory jaunt. The chap I'm visiting has had his personal assistant organise me a spiffy furnished apartment which has pay tv and a pool. The next month is going to be way rad. I'm relishing my privacy, and took the liberty of spending a large portion of the evening in the nud sprawled out on the couch watching telly. It's hot, you see.

Anyway, I'm fine. Hit me up with all the good oil.