Hip To Be … –.- ..- .- .-. .

Sometimes ironic, sometimes retro-chic, hipsters are the compass that points our culture toward cool.

The horn rimmed glasses and skinny jeans have almost become the uniform of the mainstream, wanna-be hipster. Anyone wearing these is usually a poseur to the Nth degree or a model in a J. Crew ad. To keep themselves one step ahead of what society holds in high regard, hipsters often look towards the past to determine what is ironically fashionable.

6a9b571207cf4b05_landing This is how a hipster hitches a ride to Boston.

Today’s hipsters have traded in their iPods for old school cassette players. 52″ flat screen televisions are disdained in exchange for a 1972 Zenith Chromacolor. The Blu-Ray movies so sought after by others take a backseat to a thrift store-rescued VCR. The Wii? That’s been tossed aside for an Atari 2600. At a certain point, though, even these items become cool again to the mainstream. As a result, hipsters must find something else…

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Happy 100

Without my grandmother, I never would have learned common Italian phrases such as:

I love you, Grandma!!! *

 * exclamation marks inserted for both excitement and so that she can hear it.


Here she is mocking the youth of Mickey Mouse.

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Chowderhead Interviews Lil’ Ol’ Me

Adam over at Chowderhead, in what can only be seen as an attempt to lose readers, has interviewed me for his blog. If you get a moment, head on over and give it a read.

WARNING: The interview does contain pictures of my face (in my opinion, my very un-photogenic face), so be aware that you may find yourself immediately vowing celibacy.



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Because I Haven’t Got the Legs for Dancing

My piece for Tipsy Lit and Ericka Clay. Enjoy and chew slowly.

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For M After 5 Years

Because writing poetry, as far as my own abilities go, ranks right up there with fixing a car, mental telepathy or even basic mathematics, I can only read and share the works of others.

The following is an excerpt from the poem, Having A Coke With You, by the insightful and tragic Frank O’Hara.
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