"What the hell am I /
Doing drinking in L.A. /
I can distinctly remember ten years ago spending a whole day listening to Bran Van 3000's "Drinking in L.A.", eating scrambled eggs, and sitting in a rocking chair under a wall-mounted speaker (I was not sober at the time). In the intervening years, I've always wondered where I'd be at 26, and I always secretly hoped my life would be confusion-free and put together by then.
Well, I've hit the big two-six, and I can confidently say that my life is still as perplexing and unfulfilled as ever, but I'm much more comfortable with that fact, if that makes any sense.
Anyways, I guess my point is this: I feel irretrievably, irrefutably old.