Both my parents grew up in the Depression and carried all the baggage of frugality that went along with that. If you’re my age and grew up in the U.S. you’re probably also familiar with reused plastic bags from bread loafs drying by the sink, getting ready to be packed with lunches and then brought back and washed and reused again. The twist ties were saved in the cutlery drawer. My father would pick up usable nails if he saw them on the street and bring them back to his workbench. My mother, beaming, would present us with a penny she had found on a dog walk. “You can put it in your piggy bank!”

I feel the need to tell you about my elementary school lunches.

Because I was talking to my friend today, about the evolution of vegan cheese, and alternative meat substances, because we were in Downward Dog, and all the blood was rushing to our heads.

This is a very West Los Angeles situation I’m describing.

Step-by-Step Instructions:

A. Remove from packaging. Chances are you can skip this step. Dustpans are one of those special objects that are not bound by packaging. They come as they are. So you can skip to step B.

I once had a friend who didn’t believe in pirates.

She said, “They’re a conspiracy.”

I said, “why?”

“I’ve never seen one.”

I nodded. I had no idea what she was talking about.

River Hickey was my first bite. That was his name—River Farslayer Hickey. In the app he told me interesting names make for interesting people and I asked if I could be the judge of that. Later that same evening, he pulled up to the old lady’s house whose attic I sleep in with his cherry-red pickup. When I sat in the passenger seat, he stared at me like I polished off a meals-worth of mayonnaise packets.