I am in a coffee shop slash independent book store drinking a 3 dollar cup of tea called “White Orchard.” In ancient China, only kings and queens were allowed to drink white tea, the foil packet tells me. I am wearing a cardigan. Avant garde jazz featuring baritone sax is playing. I am surrounded by people looking at Tumblrs on brushed titanium Mac laptops that were not purchased with their own money. The coffee shop is owned by Dave Eggers. I want to walk in and beat my own ass.
I am an unemployed white man with skinny jeans on and three days’ growth of beard hunting and pecking into a laptop in a coffee house at noon on a Wednesday. This is like the moment where a promising young black guy on his way to college makes one small mistake and finds himself on the prison bus. I am looking down at my shackles contemplating how I threw everything away. I would bristle when they called me a hipster. Nothing hip about me, I would say. I work in an office. No one can be hip when they use Microsoft Excel regularly. Not now. Continue reading
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