Whatever, man.

I’m sick of plain looking people, with no particular sense of personal fashion, putting on glasses or skinny jeans or something neon because TONIGHT I’M MAKING FUN OF HIPSTERS.

The issue is, you look like you’re trying just as hard to get attention as the worst of the hipsters, but you don’t actually look cool doing it.

You look like you’re trying and missing. Notice that the trendy hipster kids who “irritate” you have put together a consistent look by considering many individual aesthetic details.

The uninspired hipster with a cliche look that you’re making fun of is actually you.

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Guide to the Hundred-Word Experiment

How do you know which of these pieces is true? Do you know? All could be half-lies, half-truths cobbled into useless fiction that’s somehow still moving. Don’t look too deep into me. Look into the piece. See yourself, not your true self or your fake self but the shifting drifting half-seen self that’s somehow still moving. Do you really think someone so unsteady as you can point out what’s stable? What’s true? Give up. You don’t know what’s true, you won’t know except you’ll feel it if you do. Don’t look at me, keep reading drifting dreaming through my fiction.

Ain’t No Rules That Can Hold Us

I don’t believe in rules; I believe in communication.

i won’t live in rules dont rule me becuz………. I Live In People – glorious & angry * loving # communicatin’ communiTIES – I am ALIVE in PEOPLE!!!? like the
Mountains Mountains Mountains
are full of migratin hoppin squeakin eatin animals hidden
yet so SO So sO JoyFull Exuberance yes! Extra UbeRANce whAT a DAYbreak
todo everylittlething impulsiveness yes! the energy thoughtletters bubbling over
…&… That my Fellow People and Friends is Y my i might not be capitalized my JOY at bUrSting FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE Everywhere with PEOPLE!

Know what I’m saying!?

Chapter 2

I think about writing the story of my life, and I see there are two chapters: the one before I met you, and the one since we met. I’m reading it as I write, writing it as I read.

Right now I’m on chapter two, page five. Or is it page six?

So far this chapter is my favorite.

I’m worried because I’ve dog-eared every page of the chapter. And if we keep it going like this, and I dog-ear the whole damn thing, well, you can’t dog-ear every page or else it’s like you didn’t dog-ear any of it.

Five Hundred And Twenty Five Days

senior football tailgates
roble architecture single
queen bed dubstep weed
san diego black out costume
job single blue hair
fired barbecue lake lag
orange bowl

new york turkey bartending
winter presents shrooms
winning selling pounds
sex ray acid trippin
weeknd music all nighters
parents post college thoughts
undefeated season

road trip texas star festival
asians molly morning yoga
cuddle netflix mary jane
picnics tent balcony
project playoff losing
coterm brazil olympics
graduation family camp
long hair

tahoe freezing skinny dip
long distance skype
teens overnight pots
dew wakeboard moon peaks
hobart fountain the rc
naked calendar back flip
girl friend

The Yellow Raincoat

The way she wore that yellow raincoat, you’d think it was going to rain acid and we’d all disintegrate except for her. When she was twelve-years-old, her mother bought her that yellow raincoat. She hadn’t grown since then.
“Do you want some tea? Or a blanket?”
“No,” she paused before adding, “thank you.”
Without the coat, she looked small and bony, like a newborn bird.
“I’m sorry about your coat. I hope it’ll be alright.”
She glanced at her yellow pelt, now covered in dirty rain and street grease.
“My name is Yona.” She smiled.
“Nice to meet you, Yona.”