Well, at least I don't own an ipod...

For a long time I denied what I had become. I would rationalize that I liked Modest Mouse waaaaaay before they sold out and did that car commercial. I only wore chuck taylors because they were the cheapest sneakers at the army navy surplus. I did wear ironic t-shirts, but only if they had been given to me. A couple weeks ago I was sitting across from a certain gentleman complaining about how I looked like such hipster scum that morning, at which point he said quite matter-of-factly: "You're like a self-hating hipster." As soon as the words were uttered, I knew they were true...but what now? Well I figured if I'm going to slowly continue becoming the complete embodiment of a stereotype, I ought to just give in and go all out.

I decided to go ahead and plan my move to Mecca (aka Williamsburg), buy some more ironic t-shirts, name drop my friends in the music industry at every opportunity, and stop hiding my obvious feeling of superiority over everyone and everything (well except those few people and things that I like). Also I intend to write even more pretentious run-on sentences and make absurd declarations of judgment over all things pop-culture related. Most importantly, I have started a blog that serves no real purpose but to satirically discuss my life as if everyone else is deeply concerned with the irony of my current situation.

Unfortunately for you, I really can't reveal any more details of what's to come at this juncture. However until next time, I leave you with a little haiku (courtesy of Ms. Buechner):

O, you thrift store lads
I thrill at your skinny pants!
Artfully mussed hair