I grew up in the OC, which in the current parlance stands for a decadent ennui, a suburban nonchalance, a foyer in a side palace of Hell.
Tonight, Vernon and Adam are younger than we are, in their 20s, and they live in a fantastic old Spanish apartment complex on Main, very Tennesse Williams, very Camino Real. They are visiting us and are outside right now telling stories with David. When Adam asked me if I grew up in Houston, I tell him, sadly, no. I answer Orange County, California, when he asks where I did grow up. "The OC," he says as if he knows something about the place without having ever been there, a common result of the show on ABC or whatever channel it's on. I've never seen the show. But having lived in the real thing, I don't need to see it. I know what it was like to grow up there: awful and awesome. Totally. Simultaneously.