When I turned 21 I cried all afternoon, tucked into the bay window of my college room, in the corner of the upstairs ofmy college house. Caught in between a waitressing shift and the mid-July heat of Waltham, Mass, I had taken the night off to have dinner at Joe’s in Boston and to then order legit drinks at some pool hallnearby. Jillian’s maybe. I played pool a lot in those days, and smoked cigarettes and listened to the Dead and the White Album with my feet hanging out of the window of my co...