Monday, November 16, 2009

The Death of a Human/Birth of a Hipster

the Hipster, best defined as having a "complicated" haircut, chain smoking habit, closet full of vintage ironic t-shirts and skinny jeans. Typically well off via a trust fund but chooses to have an appearance of someone that is nearing homelessness.

I live in North Park. A neighborhood in San Diego that is defined by it's hipster denizens. A culture of people who, as a whole, has decided that they are too cool to care about anything. Trying, or putting forth effort towards anything would be considered uncool and grounds for losing hipster status. Attempting to be good at something would result in the same aforementioned punishment. Yes, this post detracts from the theme of the Stay at Home Rock Star, but it is something I have been fascinated by.

How can someone just NOT care? And then be considered cool for such apathy and laziness. Not to mention the sense of entitlement that goes along with their general heir of superiority. It's okay, I can write this and they can read it and it won't matter. remember? They don't care. It's like making video making fun of the Amish. I won't ever be viewed by the subject.

I have friends that I have seen get involved with this culture trend. I don't speak to them anymore because they are too cool to converse with someone who cares. It's as if they died and turned in to a zombie with greasy hair, a ratty beard, chain smoking habit, penchant for PBR tall boys, ironic accessories, need to read books by unknown authors and looks like they may be in a band. They may go so far as to put their own faces on the side of a milk carton.

As I look at my daughters and watch them grow, I am reminded of a Willie Nelson song. Mama's, don't let your babies grow up to be hipsters.

And I'm out...

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