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Hipsters Part 2

20 Feb

hipster cardigan

Previously

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