Ten years, a retrospective
My New York state of mind
My ten-year high school reunion was last month. I didn’t go—it seemed like an event where classmates I wasn’t friends with would try to sell me life insurance I didn’t need.
But it did make me reflect. Was I really this old? Did I always fart this much? Why is there blood on my hands? Is that a dead body in my bathtub? WHY ARE THE POLICE KNOCKING ON MY D…