:: SARS chasm ::

Monday, May 05, 2003

That hipster waste of space on the subway this morning was holding his copy of "Dubliners" a little too conspicuously. He might as well have been wearing an "Ask me about my endearingly dilettantish literary fixation!" button as he mentally tabulated all the books he really should read and why not because the subway is the perfect environment to extricate and absorb some really heavy thematic material and clear his head at the same time and it doesn't hurt that everyone can see the bright green cover and maybe that hot girl across the aisle with the ironic mullet and retro fashion sense will see it and come over and ask him, with the reflection of his predominately-denim outfit infusing her eyes with a deep blue gleam, if he really likes Joyce in response to which he can act exceedingly enthused, utterly insouciant, or maybe even jaded and disaffected depending on what turns her on the most (though likely vacillating between these stances) after which they could engage in a series of trysts which probably wouldn't amount to much but during the course of which they would almost assuredly discuss wanting to try heroin at least once but it would end poorly and afterward he'd will himself into psychosomatic sullenness to the point that during an interstice between his 12-hour naps he'd roll over and pick up said same copy of "Dubliners", open it to the very page he was reading when meeting her - having not advanced beyond that point since - and begin reading the book, all the while convincing himself that this time around his intentions were far more earnest but nevertheless putting it down after a few minutes, putting on his mesh trucker cap (after being dissatisfied with the appallingly neat state of his normally unkempt hair) agonizing over whether to listen to The Smiths or The Cure on his iPod (ultimately opting for Echo and the Bunnymen) and defenestrating himself from the sublet bedroom of his loft apartment (2BR, 1100 sq, high ceilings, two blocks from Lorimer L stop, no smokers, no pets, $850/month), shattering upon impact with the concrete sidewalk of the neighborhood whose gentrification he both caused and loudly lamented, with each fragment a fully-formed clone lying dormant until a passing hepcat might happen to spill some PBR on the myriad lilliputian proto-bohemians, protean in hipster phenotype, causing them to swell, awaken, and go forth to further disseminate their obnoxious genes. Mondays make me bitter like "Hearty Chicken Noodle" instant soup (nothing "hearty" about it; it's the hemophiliac of soups). The title of this entry has nothing to do with the body - I thought of it in the shower and it made me want to beat myself up.

Posted by morland @ 05:15 PM

:: Comments ::

And everyone asks me what I mean when I say I can't hang out some places downtown because they're too hip for me. I just found out everyone I hated in college is living off their parents in Williamsburg. And then I found out my grandmother's uncle was able to own an entire house in Williamsburg on an MTA sallary. Where I come from, we made fun of kids with mesh hats for very different reasons.

Posted by: Anna on May 5, 2003 08:27 PM

Sir, I advise you to try heroin at least once.

Posted by: Al on May 6, 2003 11:28 AM

This morning, taking the A train down from Sinwood, I saw a man totally devoid of any hipster fashion sensibility reading the Fountainhead. He had some kind of green blob in his hair. I suppose this is what distinguishes Sinwood from Williamsburg. Also, a nearly intact pigeon eggshell almost fell upon me. Sigh.

Posted by: El Jefe del Infierno on May 6, 2003 04:36 PM

This morning, taking the A train down from Sinwood, I saw a man totally devoid of any hipster fashion sensibility reading the Fountainhead. He had some kind of green blob in his hair. I suppose this is what distinguishes Sinwood from Williamsburg. Also, a nearly intact pigeon eggshell almost fell upon me. Sigh.

Posted by: El Jefe del Infierno on May 6, 2003 04:36 PM

holy hell!

you used the word "defenestrate" in this entry.

i have no clue who you are, but you are my new favorite person.

Posted by: B on May 6, 2003 10:51 PM

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