One day you catch your reflection in the window of an abandoned storefront. You will say to yourself: “This is it. Today is the day that I start my band. The time for procrastination is through.” But, that’s a tough racket, and, aside from that, when people leave—as they have and will continually—it’s as if you’ve been left behind after the rapture, with three cigarettes and a half-eaten bran muffin to your name. You will probably want to become a seagull, but don’t you feel hung-over and irritable just imagining that? Someone please bring back the toy commercials of our youths already!
