hipsters: people who take legit awesome shit and fucking ruin it for everyone.

Acceptable hipsters. Is it hipster to post a Kerouac pic? I don't give a fuck.

I'm not in the mood to pussyfoot around tonight, guys. I've had my dad bugging me all night; my sisters beaking off about stupid immature bullshit that I should just ignore but can't due to the whole unfortunate blood relationship and the fact that they're both pretty on point tonight, lol-wise; and my job and a good portion of the people I am forced to interact with because of it are making me nauseous with loathing. The whole world is grating my fucking cheese lately, and it's so hard to channel all of this churning, unfocused rage into one coherent, hopefully amusing piece of writing.

So, fuck it. I'm just gonna, like, stream of consciousness this shit, because I haven't written anything since October that was over 140 characters or didn't serve as a caption for a photo of some dude I wish I could bang (Tumblr, you life ruiner).

Lately, I increasingly feel the need to air a grievance that has been in my face for the past few months. Frankly, I'm gonna fucking scalp the next hipster I see and donate said scalp to Value Village, where some other hipster asshole will buy it and tell all his hipster asshole friends that he's single-handedly bringing back scalping your enemies and wearing the keepsakes as statement pieces. Fuck.

And that's my problem right now: these little pricks that think anything they do or say is fucking original in the slightest. Like, wow, you're the first person to ever rebelliously don a pair of Doc's and quote a fucking Smiths lyric at me. The idea that anyone influenced by popular culture right now (which is basically everyone with internet access and a pair of working eyes and ears) has even a shred of originality is laughable. Guess what? Unless you've got a time-travelling DeLorean and went back to 1970, you are not the first person in the world to listen to Tom Waits. You're just not. Stop acting like you fucking invented him.

I get the sense when listening to people like this wax poetic about Vonnegut or some fucking vintage dress they picked up for $5 after searching second-hand shops for an entire afternoon that it's not because they legitimately enjoy it, which is really the crux of the matter. What is the point of studying an artist's or writer's entire body of work if not simply out of love? Your indie credibility? How ridiculous and sad. More people need to enjoy music for the sake of, I don't know, enjoying the fucking music, rather than competing with each other, like indie acts are the Pokemon(s? I don't fucking know) and they're the Ash Ketchums of the music scene. And you can shop at Salvation Army all you want, but a Cosby sweater is a Cosby sweater, so wearing it ironically doesn't change the fact that it's ugly as shit.

But you know what really chokes me up? In a scene where everyone strives for authenticity, they all fucking reek of bullshit. Nobody wants to hear that tired ass story about being a starving artist and drinking your pain away when everybody knows you live in the fucking suburbs. Nobody wants to hear how girls made fun of you in school for the way you dressed because you shopped second-hand before it got trendy and now they all jackin' yo' steeze. No one thinks your faux humility or fucking angst is cute.

Sadly, these assholes are everywhere, some of them even friends. On the real, totally decentish people that I find at least mildly tolerable at times, until they start spewing bullshit about some fucking terrible band that I "probably haven't heard of" because I "must not reeaally be into music." Well, you can reeaally go fuck yourself. I don't claim to be any kind of musical savant, but I have a pretty good knowledge of a wide range of genres and artists, so maybe, MAYBE, I haven't heard of your fucking terrible band because I tend to take a pass on music that doesn't so much resemble music as a bunch of wailing shitheads banging on some broken instruments they found in a fucking dumpster in some back alley. Thanks for the load of condescension, though, you pretentious cumstain.

And yeah, I know this is all coming from a girl who's face consists of 50% bangs and dresses almost entirely in shit from American Apparel, but in my defense: I hate grooming my eyebrows, and you try being fat and dressing relatively stylishly while being comfortable. Yeah, that's what I fucking thought. I'm also more than aware of the fact that this entire essay is basically one big "Kids today!" and that in itself has been done since there have been people younger than older, wiser, cooler people. However, at least I'm self-aware and acknowledge that fact rather than act like my thoughts are the fucking pioneer of feeling superior to others who just don't get what music/literature/recycled clothing is supposed to be about.

Just kidding about the recycled clothing. That shit grosses me out.