Hipster Howl: My Call for Comrades
I finally started my underground poetry circle, but it’s so underground that nobody knows about it. And telling people about my poetry circle is definitely selling out to the man.
Matilda and I broke up, not that we were actually dating.
Her impetus? She found Miley Cyrus tracks on my iPod. I told her I was being ironic, but she said it was “too soon” for that level of irony. Whatever.
I quit my arabesque post-punk neo-soul prog-newgrass acoustic-grunge band, Shame on Susie’s Serotonin. My bandmates just couldn’t keep up with my creative input. And arabesque post-punk neo-soul prog-newgrass acoustic-grunge is so 2008.
When is Chronic Town going to reopen? I need a job staffed by avant-garde individuals, not the usual PSU meatheads.
Here’s the bottom line. I need some new postmodern acquaintances. Why am I the only person on campus still wearing black skinny jeans? Since everyone’s dressing like it’s summer or something, I can’t discern who is cool and who is mainstream.
So read my sign and contact me. We can meet for coffee and vegan pastries. Let’s both wear keffiyehs so we can easily spot each other.
I’m also starting an underground independent film circle, but you didn’t hear about it from Sebastian.
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About the Author
And the James Franklin Award for Most Hated Coach goes to…
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