“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. “What would you prefer?” he asks. “White noise,” I say. “The sound of myself talking. Cats screeching. A woman in labor.” I reach for the stereo and turn it off. “I’ve missed your negativity,” he says. “It’s refreshing in Los Angeles, the city of unchecked delusion.”
