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Why are you even bothering with the Internet if you don't read Lileks?

A taste:

It wasn’t that you knew her well, even though you’d been in school together since tot-hood. Perhaps you had a sneaky crush on her, like the rest of the nerds. She was smart, killer smart; she was pretty, achingly pretty, but she carried herself in a way that deflected your attention. She hunched, as though she was trying to draw in her beauty and keep it from spilling out, making a mess. Everything about her seemed an improvised defense. Her smile could melt coal. She died.

You look at the faces, you ask around, you get the stats: rare blood disease. Parking garage accident in Vegas. Car crash.  How about her? What happened?

You discover that she married a fellow who founded a software  company known in these parts as the A-1 code factory. Microsoft bought the company. Lots of people made lots of money; you have relatives who owe their lake cabin to a judicious stock position.

She went down in a small plane with her husband.

You don’t remember a word you said to her or a word she said to you, but you stand there looking at that photo and you know you will never forget her. You’ll never knew her, either, but that’s a different matter.

The band is too loud.  Of course, the band is always too loud. Everywhere. It’s what bands do: be too loud. This has the effect of driving everyone into the hallway, but by the end of the night the magic effects of Mr. Liquor will drive a few couples onto the dance floor, which allows you the chance to stand by the wall, watch other people dance, and remember the other side of High School.

Then you go outside and have a cigar with a cheerleader, which reminds you how things can change.

You catch up with other people’s profession. Giant retail mall manager. Gravestone coordinator. Gas-pump repairman / musician. Photographer extraordinaire. Corporate-function entertainer. Educator, realtor, high-end small-market auto detailer. Computer chip designer.

As Evil Glenn says, read the whole thing.