"Well, Mr. Grumblecakes is going to fail out of school if this spring shit does not stop. I get to classes hours late because it’s so nice to just walk around and look at everything blossoming and turning pastel — including me: I have gotten like five times gayer since April started. I skip; people stare.
So what I do is frolic. I’d always thought I had a dour, my-tail-fell-off sort of streak and was no good at frolicking. But now I see it’s easy: you drink just a little bit, not enough to even feel it, a sip really, around 2:30 p.m., then maybe you have some more, because it’s too late now, you know, and then you just lie back and leer quietly, shamelessly at the half-naked people playing Frisbee from the bed of tulips over to one side of the courtyard. Tulips! You didn’t even know New Haven had tulips. Aren’t they Dutch? No, that one is definitely some kind of Italian-American; I’d like to take a stick of butter and …