It seems ridiculous to me that you could be reading this newsletter for over five years and not know that I’m a Paul Simon superfan of sorts. I saw him at what was supposed to be his last show in Queens in 2018. I most vividly remember trading edibles for holding a spot for an old hippie from the west coast while he went to get a beer. I remember more than that but I think that this stranger stands out most in my memory for good reason. What I want to recall is camaraderie. I got a T-shirt but my ex kept it. The universe owes me a Paul Simon tee. Perhaps it will come for my 40th, on Sunday.

I can’t take this Acela train from Baltimore to New York City without thinking about “America.” Funny thing is, I know it first from my oldest friend Kerry putting “I said be careful, his bow tie is really a camera” in her AIM profile. When I think about pure joy, I remember being 12 with her and finding out she loved the same songs, that she could make me laugh so hard—like she was Chris Farley but in my house. I once read someone bemoan the idea that we don’t remember the beginnings of friendships the way we do romantic loves, but I remember Kerry telling this gross, funny story at my birthday sleepover and feeling in my heart, I’ll know you forever.