A Tropical Rain's absence
When it never rains, people go mad. That's what's happened to me. Maybe it's what's happened to everyone round these parts. But don't take me as an authority on people round these parts (or anywhere else), since though I've been here a good many years (what is it now? Twelve? Thirteen?) I still haven't quite given up on the original working plan I had when I came here, which was as in Procol Harum's Rum Tale: to "hide from the natives" and "live only on rum" (the reason being as stated clearly in the song). You can see me doing this between classes. Not the rum part, since I have to drive home later on, but the hiding part. I sneak round the back of the building and inhale dry woodland. That makes me less of an expert on people than someone who might, say, have conversations and stuff like that. I was never very good at having conversations. I listen to other people when they really let rip (generally at work dos in some commandeere...