But now I am back in his dumb Volvo, taking a deep hit and feeling sort of momentarily happy. Grating music travels through the car and snatches my bliss. “What is this shit?” I ask, pointing to the stereo. “Vampire Weekend,” he says. I make a hacking noise, and he laughs his cloying laugh. “Their new album is pretty good.” I can’t think of a single thing to say to that.
