So I keep using the word "hipster" and then people keep asking me to define it. And I can't. Who can? Someone tried. But really, it's hard to define a developing culture. It's something about the pumas and the vespas and the funky hair and skinny boys who smoke and girls with cute skirts and sweet, low voices. Since leaving my Covenant College, I've realized that hipster entails a lot of things that were counteracted by our own culture. Hipsters don't dance, don't make eye contact. It's a bad idea to try to talk to anyone at shows, you will immediately be branded anathema, which is exactly what everyone there is afraid of. There's a lot more insecurity, a lot more judging, a lot more introversion than I was aware of. I can identify with the snobbery and the elitism, that doesn't really bother me, but I don't like the pretension that goes along with that. Maybe Boston hipsters aren't the best example. They are the most over-educated of an over-educated subculture. They're cold, opinionated wasps who lose the humorous self-deprecation and flaunt the cynicism. Plus, they're all trying to compensate for the fact that they don't live in New York.
. . . but more on this has been said before.
I found this article last summer. It dubs these hipster men "Littleblue Smurfboys" (an endearing name really), and goes on to say they lack all that makes men great. I don't agree. I'm very fond of little blue smurf boys, even though I wasn't allowed to watch the smurfs as a child. And what makes the critique most interesting is how badly the author is trying to put down the less tough and violent men of today in order to champion his ideal "Big Bruiser" men and women, who, from the way he puts it, sound like they're doing what they can to damage the spirits of their fellow human beings.
I came up with another great Kilter idea--Konsumer Kilter. They could have it at IKEA, with all the crazy-sleek furniture and all the kitchen appliances and curtains and rugs. It would so capitalistic and globalistic and a rocking good time.
We went to IKEA yesterday, as part of our Earth Day celebrations. But first, we went to see Jane Goodall at the Franklin Park Zoo. Jane Goodall is like a storybook character in our minds. We arrived at the zoo in a heightened state of excitement, the only phrase we said that actually made sense was "Jane Goodall." Everyone else in the state seemed to have gotten there ahead of us (apparently in Massachusetts Jane Goodall is a recognized religion). We rushed through the zoo, but soon realized that the pavilion where Jane was supposed to be speaking was now empty. Then Keri decided we had to take out the zoo employees so we could see Jane Goodall in the "Meeting Barn." Sadly, we were outnumbered and on unfamiliar turf. So we did what Hope told us Jane wanted us to do--we saw the animals. It made me miss the Omaha zoo with the klipspringers and pecaries and tigers (there were no tigers). One thing I like about zoos is noticing all the smells, the way everyone looks around nervously while standing in the body odor of the gorilla pen, the way the leopards and lions smell like a crazy, old lady's house. There's something about the body/feces smells in zoos that is not really bad and is really interesting. While we were in the petting zoo, looking for the rabbits, Hope noticed that we were standing right behind the building where Jane Goodall was signing books. So we all peaked in the windows, looking for her just like we'd looked for the leopards and baby gorillas earlier. But we saw her, we saw Jane Goodall and now our lives are richer.
After the zoo we had to find some way to purge ourselves of any enrichment so we went to the deadly cave of wonders that is known as IKEA. It's roughly the size of Disney World and needs its own transit system. I decided the best idea IKEA had was advertising their cinnamon rolls from the moment you drive into the parking lot, through all the miles of the store, then selling them right past the cash registers, so you go home associating IKEA with this beautiful taste in your mouth. That's pretty much all I remember--IKEA, big . . . cinnamonny, yum.
I have many pages of tax forms and a box of 72 new crayola crayons sitting next to me. I'm trying to restrain myself from using one on the other. I decided the real problem with tax forms is not that they are too complicated, but that they are too simple and my life is too complicated. They keep asking questions about what I'm doing and who I am that I have not begun to ask myself. And they expect me to answer in numbers, which makes everything worse. I feel like I should go to a therapist and discuss the tax questions. "How do you feel about your legal residence, Linnea?" Speaking of people asking questions, I've really started to dread the inevitable, "So what are you doing in your life, Linnea?" questions. And people think they're just small talk. What would they do if I just started bursting into tears whenever they ask? I'm fine with living this open-future life, just don't try to pin me down because then I'll just become sad that I can't be pinned down. And I'll feel like I'm disappointing someone, something I just can't handle.
So it looks like I'm moving to Chattanooga next fall. Not sure quite what I'll be doing there, but it's where I'll be. My main goal is to take some of my free Covenant credit hours so I can get a facebook account. It's all about the facebook these days. I'll also be spending many hours at McKay to make up for all the lost time. And Lupi's. And . . . I don't know, I'm looking forward to getting to know the city more. I didn't get down the mountain that much during college, mostly because I generally don't like to go out. As evidenced by my existence here in Boston, where I won't leave my house even when a large city is waiting just outside the door. (Granted a rather un-happening city where Taco Bell closes at ten, but what can you do?) General life goal is still grad school, for those who are interested, but it's not happening immediately. Dammit. It's hard when things don't happen immediately. And when things aren't open all night. I think I'm going to go make some more tea.
Have you ever though about the technical difficulties of making illustrated children's books of The Emperor's New Clothes? I mean, here's a story that explicitly deals with nakedness, but they always want to make it for children. Generally what they do, to avoid an In the Night Kitchen type fiasco, is make all the characters animals, but the ones illustrated with pictures of people make very good use of the "showing reactions instead of showing the thing itself" technique (that I know must have a name because it's used in movies all the time, but I don't know what the name is). Which is the point of the story after all--the people's reactions. I really don't like the ones that use too many strategically placed objects. It just seems too "fixed." I'd rather people just don't show things at all than use strategically placed objects. Unless they're just doing it to make fun of the "strategically placed objects" technique, which is not so much a technique as a crutch for the weak-minded. Alright, time for bed.
I worked at one of the small, branch libraries today and got to play music while I worked. I've worked in libraries so long that that just seems like the ultimate rebellious thing to do. I played Amnesiac. Five times. It is the ultimate library music. You can listen to it over and over and as long as you don't let it stop no one will notice it's there. Besides that my day wasn't so great. A really annoying kid came in and wouldn't stop asking me questions, and when you're working in a library there's not much you can do to avoid that. Children . . . Sometimes I try to confuse them into stopping, but that is a dark and dangerous road to go down.
That's one of my favorite words. Last night Hope and I went to see Neko Case play at the Roxy. I wasn't expecting much from a place called "Roxy," but it was a suprisingly complexly decorated twisty place. I really like clubs you can get lost in while finding your place to the bar, and then get confused about whether this is actually the bar you were trying to get to in the first place or is this just one that looks like the other one. And it looked like it had been decorated by Baz Luhrman with strangely shaped gold things decending from the ceiling and balconies and waved in and out over the richly carpeted bottom level and the hardwood dance floor. I haven't listened to Neko Case as much as Hope (who hasn't stopped listening to her since January) but I loved the concert. Mostly because she is a loud little woman. I especially enjoyed the end of "Look For Me (I'll Be Around)" and how it made the guy next to me actually exclaim under his breath because of the volume of the last "I'll be around." I think that was the musical high point of the night for me, but I really liked her redition of "Wandering Stranger" that she played for an encore. I've actually only heard that song before on Oregon Trail, but I always loved the tune and it was good to finally hear the words. Neko Case and her back-up singer were hilarious. Someone in the crowd yelled out "marshmallows!" in the middle of the show and for the rest of the time they just kept randomly yelling marshmallows and talking about peeps and cadbury cream eggs, and for some reason Cirque du Soleil. At the end Neko thanked Boston for being "Eastery" and friendly. I'm glad we could provide that holiday cheer for her.
Polyvinyl Record Co. is my new favorite record label. Last week I realized that, due to the hard drive suicide of last year I had no Of Montreal anymore, so I got on the Polyvinyl site to remedy the problem. I love ordering straight from the label because of all the free stuff, but Polyvinyl has definitely outdone the other labels I've ordered from. Not only did they send postcards and a free EP but they stuffed the little EP case with stickers! So many stickers, and that's what I really get into. Oh, look, a CD, oh look stickers! Yeah.