It’s a lifeless life, with no fixed address to give/But you’re not mine to die for anymore, so I must live.

“Last Call at 301.” That’s what my college roommates and I called the final party we threw at our apartment, one week before we graduated.

Over the course of our junior and senior years, the place my roommates and I shared had become something of a de-facto hangout spot among our friend group. That was partially because of our habit for hosting Super Smash Bros battles on weeknights, but mostly because my roommate Danny would just invite people over for impromptu dinner parties all the time, or study sessions, or movie nights, or cocktail hours. On any night of the week, there was a good chance of finding 2-6 guests in our living room. And so, while we had college bars that we loved – special shoutout to the Kalamazoo Beer Exchange, the coolest beer bar I ever frequented – it ultimately made the most sense for us to have our last big college hurrah at our place: Apartment 301.

My big responsibility for that party, other than chipping in for booze, was putting together the perfect party playlist for our big sendoff. I was absolutely up to the task. In a lot of ways, I’d been training for this moment my whole life. As this series attests, I have a habit for very carefully and deliberately soundtracking the big, climactic moments of my life, and this party was surely going to be one such moment. And while I knew most of the songs on the playlist had to be shared touchstones – tracks that would get a group full of college kids laughing, vibing, dancing, reminiscing, and singing along – I made sure to save one slot on the playlist just for me, so that I could play the Japandroids song “The House That Heaven Built” as loud as fucking possible in a room full of elated drunk people.