Marc

I am covered in water, from head to toe, except for a small stripe on my shirt, where my bag's strap ran from my shoulder to my hip. It's funny looking. You should be here, now, looking at it, and laughing at me, and saying things like, "Didn't you know it was going to rain outside today?" Nope. "Don't you own an umbrella?" Nuh-uh. "How about a parka, or something?" Again, no. Whoops. Like, sorry for bringing you down you fascist rain combatant. I had no clue there were so many various instruments out there to prevent little tragedies like rain-soaked shirts and bags. To be honest, I really don't give a damn. I'm okay. It was kind of fun, actually, and will remain a fun memory [walking nearly a half mile in a downpour, feeling the water cascade down my arms, soak into my shoes, and literally spill off the top of my head] until I get pneumonia next week. That won't be cool. Not at all.

Apologies to the fifty some people that have already been through here by this point today. I was wrestling almost all of last night with myself. Did you know that writing a paper is ten times easier than revising it? I didn't until last night. I'd elaborate, but it would be meaningless unless you knew what I was talking about. I'll talk more after my first volume of short stories/memoirs is out, and then we can really get down to the nitty-gritty. Un-kay?