The swimming pool in the center of my apartment building is shaped exactly—exactly—like a grand piano, a bright blue silhouette matching the sunny California sky. It’s funny that I never noticed until this year, because like Don McClean said, the music doesn’t play here. Not anymore.
This used to be a real wild place. Parties every night. My freshman year I probably vomited in every stairwell in the building (there are four). They keep things quiet now. I certainly don’t raise as much hell as I used to, but I always imagined I’d go out with a bang. When I was 18, I thought things would get wilder. Alas, no.
There’s a black, mangy old crow preening on the rooftop, just obscuring my view of the L.A. city skyline. It’s a rare sight. Usually, I only see doves.
T-minus 36 hours until the end of this long and winding journey. But when one door opens… blah blah blah…
May 16, 2012