They say that time can heal all wounds. Time, however, can really fuck things up too. I remember when being “hip” was a good thing.
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix.
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night
That, the opening lines of Allen Ginsberg’s “Howl”, is beautiful. This is not:
Of course, the problem now is that the cool, excuse me, “Deck,” thing to do these days is to slag hipsters. So what do the hipsters do when they discover the in thing is hipster bashing? We’re going to end up with a group of self-loathing hipsters out there and maybe a rash of suicides, endless rows of lemming hipsters riding their retro bikes into buses.
I, however, always being one to buck the trend, have decided not to trash hipsters. Instead of jumping all over hipsters, I will remain the purist and jump on Emo girls, beginning with these two
This could end up being a new hobby.