Birth Of A Hipster

I was walking around the high school this morning, cursing its name, when I was suddenly reminded of the best part of BHS: the people.

As I walked by the south doors, I saw a young man whom I had no memory of. I mention this becuase if I'd seen him before, I would have filed him permanently in my memory banks. He was the the most emo individual I've ever laid eyes upon. His hair was lank and artificially dark and it hung down, partially obscuring his view through black-framed, horn-rimmed, lenseless glasses. He wore a black Weezer t-shirt under a forest-green suit coat, lacking only a military insignia and a $2.50 price tag from Goodwill. His jeans were artfully bleached and featured some expensive looking professional rips, counterintuitively placed directly behind the knees (to keep The Man on his toes, apparently). Worn and soiled checkered deck shoes--standard hipster footwear--adorned his oddly small feet.

Even as I marveled at his utter hipness, I was more shocked by the fact that I hadn't noticed him before. I realized that perhaps he had made a self-concious image transformation (see Sam Walker) over Spring Break. But this seemed unlikely; how could any mere mortal create such a complete expression of angst and defiance--with concert t-shirts? No, he must have been created this way. Perhaps some other major hipster exploded and formed a hip-nebula, a massive, gaseous cloud of self-assurance. Gravity and egotism gradually drew the nebula into a smaller, denser, smugger sphere. Eventually the cloud became self-aware and stopped washing its hair.

Thanks for the feedback on the hair. Interesting that right now the most defiant, out-there freak-flag I can fly is trimming my wild n' crazy man-mane into a squared-off butch cut. I'll do Forrest Gump proud.