Archive for the hipster Category

pajama party

Posted in adventure, hipster, party, Philadelphia, philly, Uncategorized on February 6, 2008 by staticity

I found myself draped in a skanky slip of a red night gown converted half-assed into a dress. Draped in a blue bathrobe, I felt somewhat out of place. The image of an old lady sitting at a cocktail table earlier that evening, wearing a black sequined gawty dress, came to mind.

Who were these men in flannel and berets? They were smoking pipes out of an era that was lost more than fifty years ago. Jungle juice, vodka, and lots of smoke was traveling around with a grey cloud of people. Bands that sounded badly out of tune with the prospect of angsty anger toward romance sang with their guitars and drums in our basement.

I pushed past crowds of people clustered together in their own private groupings so I could reach the front basement area. Past the grungy carpet I used to sleep on I felt the cold through barefeet among a sea of boots. Finally. A familiar face. Mr. Mustache is standing with his leg stretched out and a beer clasped in his hand. Chain smoking with the other.

The eyes of others were monsterous. Largely focused on the hope of a nearby fame. Could it be? There eyes were large enough to eat the drumset. Engorging all the people and the publicity of myspace photos documenting the evening. Eyes were everywhere. Lurking out of the corners of sofas. Darting between lines of drugs. Flashing flirtatiously at the concept of dare-we-think one night stands?

I sat down onto my mattress after some time had passed. Wrapped around the curl of constant cigarettes, I could feel my face fading. Only ten thirty? How could that be?
With the flash of untying robes into the night life of toilet papered bathrooms, I liked the feel of silk. In an instant, it might be gone.

The Social Orchestra

I hear people in the bathroom…
from Nic’s bedroom.  I think there’s a small group of people smoking pot in the shower.
Someone Nic works with by the name of Keith, bought some dope from us. While we were sitting in the room, he started to talk about all the old things I have heard just like everyone else, a million times over.
– his adventures of warrants out for him in three states.
-his girlfriend is annoying and out of line talking about his dope addiction.
– mentions casually the word ‘addiction’ as if it is in fashion.

Keith is the kind of guy who likes to think of himself as breaking all the rules because he hates the fact he sucks up to get where he is. Probably the kind of guy who would be ashamed by family wealth. He likes flirting with the idea of a scene in heroin. He looks for danger in office buildings.

College girls are in the next room…
“It’s funny how South Philly is so different from West Philly.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s so much more laid back here, but I don’t know.”
“Yeah, I mean I guess these are like, what happened to those people our age that didn’t go to college.”

I was fixing up the dress above my breasts. Tugging at the straps and constantly ‘checking’. Oozing sex, I felt the eyes belonging to long shirts and leggings of nervous chatter. Aware of small, awkward moments, thoughts contained of;
A red lollipop licked and sucked between Mr.Mustache and I.
Barefeet in the basement of bands.
Sitting cross legged with a cigarette tucked between fingers of a rouged lifestyle consisting ‘pure funk.’
The girl who said nothing but kept sitting very closely with cigarettes going both ways.

The satin sensations faded early in the night, but music was still breathing safely from downstairs. I can hear them now singing drunk from the social symphony in awe.


A day in the life of….

Posted in adventure, gentrification, grunge, hipster, interactions, Philadelphia, philly, sex on January 15, 2008 by staticity

I hear the way he hammers out words on his keyboard. Much in the same way one would on an antique type writer. The mystery lies facing him in a world of secrecy. Adventures of tired blankets and surprise sex perhaps. Maybe a letter to his lonely mother from twenty hours away. He sits hunched over with the beloved ash tray like a pet that always follows.

Sometimes I think he’s too quiet. A boy with his mind shouldn’t sit in too much silence. It floods our room until it’s too much to see. Creeping through the crack below the door- it dances down the hall. Into the living room and filling the entire house with a strange type of silent curiosity. White. With all the colors constricted into a bland sheet of paper. Hammering away at it until the secrecy is unfolded online.

Today we were adventurers. New friends for an afternoon.

-One with a suitcase filled with stolen goods from the magic shop.
-Another was a roommate with a Jewish afro as tall as the brothers johnson.
-The third was a feminate black man by the name of Gum Drops.

They all had on hats out of the 1940s.  Complete with checkered jackets made of tweed and brown loafers. We went to a gentrifying coffee shop where people of the same attire read the papers with a look of concern folding in their eyebrows. Let Me Tell You a little something about those democratics. Worry  has lept so far down their media loved throats that fear has become a trend far worse than the common conservative.

We bumped into Erick and Stephanie planning a futuristic ice skating trip to Penns Landing. Conversation floated to childrens cinnema and ET and Star Wars. Jobs were discussed as a friend of a friend got gyped on his pay check. A common occurance.

We then strolled in a pack of pale dressed bougie’s back to our humble abode on Washington Ave.  I could feel the eyes lurking behind section 8 buildings as we tried to hide our rich shame from catching up.  Gentrification Association. And we WERE the neighborhood watch.
We returned to the living room with a mysterious wooden coffee table newly purchased a few days ago. Lit incense and talked about the shopping cart people. People we didn’t know who had slept on our couches the night before. People with attitudes. People with friends. Fight at bars. Music. Records. Comedy.

After a conspiracy movie on what Really happened on 9/11 I walked brisk to the questionable Chinese Food store and bought my humble 2.75 cents cheese burger. Nic and I cleaned and took a shower.

I laughed as he serenaded me with his dancing. Not ashamed of our bodies underwater. Unshaven legs. I bent down to kiss him and found his voice stutter to groan from laughter to pleasure. The Silence had been broken.


Posted in adventure, hipster, life, Philadelphia, philly on January 8, 2008 by staticity

The air was striking close to seventy degrees as I sat sipping a two dollar glass bottle of diet coke. Second street coffee shop proved on the verge of popularity. A woman dressed in fancy boots and a black dress with red collar strolled in for a latte. She had black hair and bright red lipstick painted on like romance flooding an overexposed mouth. Her two men trailed behind her in equally fashionable attire.  Perhaps she was on her lunch break from working at an art gallery somewhere a few blocks North of grunge.

I was slung over a summer chair enjoying the fresh cigarette smoke filtering out of a cheap pack of 3.74 cents. Draped arms and crossed legs, I felt rich inside a gigantic jacket.  Perhaps I’ll just glance through this free magazine as I pretend to be on lunch break too.  I thumbed through the future as my friend gazed off into the distance. Messy blond pig tails and jeans that frayed around the edges. She looked a bit out of place, as if stumbling through thoughts in one of those graceful trances where stumbling is dancing in disguise.

“Do you always stumble through the door?” A man with messy facial hair had asked me the night before last.

It’s as if everything I do is half by mistake and half by constant thought. The kind that wraps me up in it until every detail is faulted through the expectation of the next. My legs lingering mysteriously through the starch of black jeans that need to be washed.

Something about messy beginnings  to graceful afternoons reminded me of the sunny seventy degrees. If only it would stay this way forever…. but ladies from all over are slithering their way back to work.

gentrifying hipsters

Posted in facts, grunge, hipster, life, Philadelphia, philly on January 4, 2008 by staticity

I’m torn. Let me explain… I recently saw the tv/internet show called The Burg which is about the hipster movement of gentrification. This is actually a rather large problem Philadelphia is currently facing. People with money-pretending to be poor- moving into ‘the newest art scene’ to try and get some street cred. You may know them as:

go go dancers

starving artists

goth/independent/diverse modeling

‘independent film’


The show proves hilarious and actually has a real myspace. However, I get the feeling the people who are target audience are going to be inevitably the anti-hipsters who are basically the same thing as hipsters. (Incredibly opinionated snobs)
I don’t think anyone can stop the gentrification going on with our current economical situation. People are poor. People are going to get more poor. Trust fun(d) kids or not, I think the best we can do for now is just make fun of it.


Hipster Party

Posted in adventure, hipster, interactions, life, party, Philadelphia, philly on December 2, 2007 by staticity

Found myself in a hipster house party tonight.
Ways I assumed it was hipster:
-it was7:30 p.m.
-folk/rock music with a raspy singer playing guitar songs that sounded for the most part all the same. (lyrics consisted of making fun of all social scenes including college kids looking ‘dangerous’)
-I felt completely out of place (though that is a common reoccurance)
-Everyone in the room was wearing plaid shirts with long sideburns and tight blue jeans.
-A keg complete with a bartender

My partner in crime and I were skirting the edge outside in the designated smoking yard.
”say something.”
”my it’s a nice night out. We can almost see the stars.”
A guilty laugh was shared as we stared around the clothes line and lingering backside of row houses. True adventureres. I must say…. through my awkwardness, I was pleasantly reminded how Niccolo and I seem to think the same things at the same time.

Highlighting points of tonight:
Our friend puking on the walk over.
A singer talking about his cathader
The blacklit kitchen (I thought was cool)
The typical drug talk outside.

Favorite quote: Our friend is the guy with the plaid shirt and sideburns.

A man with sideburns and a plaid shirt came out and I was about to introduce myself to the friend when I realized it wasn’t him.

I left around eight feeling totally stupid and snobby. Rebecca….. it’s going to be okay.