Apocalypse Me

The novel by B. Easton Ellis that had the single biggest impact on my writing style. Cliched, I know.

Up Tempo Sdtrk
Down Tempo Sdtrk

Hawaiian Libertarian pointing out truth, like usual

I'm doing a good hipster impression: hair pulled back. tattoos. buttons undone on a thin cotton shirt with sleeves hiked up in a hapenstance fashion that looks effortless but is too perfectly coiffed to not be deliberate. fitted jeans. drinking a craft beer in the afternoon. on a fucking weekday.
Ah, the illusions we don from time to time. 

Everyone else with a normal job is at work.
I was going to say I usually do a good impression at that, but honestly, I kinda don't. I go business casual when I'm not supposed to. I don't walk around with my tail between my legs and I'm virtually always a step away from just quitting. When I choose to be, I'm a very skilled worker/drone bee. But emails, meetings, ad other stuff? I tend to just meander through that as quickly as possible.

Back to Hipster-ville, population: Me.
I'm listening to conversations about buying a dog, starting a band, having a house party with a guest list and other mind numbingly typical hipster conversations that feel like someone is reading me the basis for a "Stuff White People Like" post. 
I'm taking a break from the overrated "work" thing. Working on some creative projects whilst I decide what if I'm going to clock one more year in this field or quit and move like I've been saying for years on this blog and its previous incarnations.

As it is, I'm enjoying a Friday afternoon that's part of a day when I've accomplished little other than some ineffectual writing and being asocial-ly surrounded by my sworn enemy: the hipster.

I've tracked down some live music to see tonight. I don't have the desire nor the fortitude to get drunk and wake up hungover tomorrow. Thanks to the Gods for depleting my tolerance for all that finally in this past year.

I'll probably opt to get high and drink some beer then call it a night after perusing some of my favorite haunts downtown.

There are worse ways to spend a semi-summer evening as a late 20's adult male in America.

 - Yrs. in Christ