Answer: Tourists
Italian tourists to be exact. And, while it’s decidedly not hot when a guy wears Ed Hardy, oddly enough, pink tweed skinny pants and lime green suede moccasins kind of does it for me. Just don’t wear them everyday, okay?
PS, yes, his friend was wearing a trench coat and a porkpie hat. Uh, huh. Yeah. That happened.
I’m almost there–I have a vintage bike with a basket, a straw hat and dirty-ish hair. Now, I just need:
A Worn in Flannel Shirt
Pick up smoking.
A Cardigan
Chunky, thick-framed glasses
A checkered scarf
A tattoo of random meaningfulness
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but i like the picture.
BLOG HARDER!
Two blogs, Texts From Last Night and Look at this Fucking Hipster, scored contracts at Penguin’s Gotham Books imprint in the past week, the latest in an endless series of such deals. Shouldn’t you get a piece of the action?
It’s not like there’s any shame in aiming for a book deal right when you start your blog. As the New York Observer puts it:
These days it seems more and more like people start goofy Web sites practically counting on seeing their stuff between two covers.
If someone’s going pay $20 for a bound collection of stale weblog posts, they might as well be yours. Here are some tips for living what seems like the new American Dream:
1. Focus on a hot technology like Twitter or iPhone apps – nothing scares the publishing industry more than a platform that basically makes it irrelevant.
2. Intimidate this shit out of people with your sheer Internet randomness. This worked well for “I Can Has Cheeseburger” and “Chuck Norris Facts,” two websites old people do not understand at all.
3. Racial commentary. (Well, it worked for that site about white people — Park Slope’s Blognigger still seems to be waiting on his book deal.)
4. Be this guy. (You’re next, Bonerparty. The world is watching.)
5. Three words: Stalk Patrick Mulligan: The editor who acquired “Texts” for Gotham, Patrick Mulligan, is like the Ari Gold of Tumblr-to-book deals, responsible for more of these deals than almost anyone else out there: Chuck Norris Facts, I Can Haz Cheezburger, Barack Obama Is Your New Bicycle and GraphJam.com the novels are all his doing.
Words of Wisdom from Patrick:
“Not all websites make great books,” Mr. Mulligan said in an email. “You have to be confident that you can curate the material in such a way that it still hits its audience while also taking advantage of the book medium. For the books that I’ve worked on… my aim is that the person in the bookstore who picks up a copy will fall in love with the material the same way as someone who stumbles onto the website.”
See you in hell Mulligan.
[Ed note: I would never buy these books.]
It’s been an inappropriately long time since I’ve written an inappropriately long post, and you know, I feel badly about that. I really do. Problem is, I’m getting lazy, and feeling less inclined to write epic re-caps of fleetingly random moments. I really do feel badly about this. I do. I’m sure you do as well (you do?). So, to kick off the weekend, I bring you an old inappropriately long story, that will seem new to you, because you’ve never heard it before — unless you’re the person(s) who received this email way back when, and in that case: isn’t it fun to reflect on my our lives?
Subject: So, I went to the office on a Saturday…
Because I’m at work on a Saturday, I decided to write people emails, instead of working on these stupid sponsorship contracts I’ve been writing up. Take THAT Showtime network!!
Sooo last night I went out with my roomate for the first time since I’ve been here. We went to a random friend of a friend’s house party, where she became obsessed with this hipster Indian dude with shaggy/whispy emo hair and a scull cap that he almost lost his shit over when someone tried to take it off him. I even played the best Wingwoman ever, and started talking to his friend, who is apparently some African prince from The Congo (no, really) but he currently lives in LA, but also, he’s boring. and I gave him my number, then pretended to take down his, because this was good for his self-esteem. Sooo anyway, my roomate makes her move on Trendy McHipster, and she spend the rest of the party chatting him up. Then, it’s time to go home, we can’t find them which sucks because I have like $8 dollars – in 1’s (laundry or strip club money?) and we live across the city from Hipsterville. I return druuuunjlk to an empty apartment (Bernie Madoff, my other roomate, is in Tahoe for the weekend, skiing on slopes of my money…) and I’m feeling dramatic, so I start writing sad-sack emails on my phone about how I got Ponzi schemed by my roomate. Which is funny because today, I don’t even care that much…
Annnywayyyy I’m dramatically flopped across my bed, writing a drunk, dramatic email on my phone, doing my best Nicole Richie pre-baby/Joel Madden/cleaned-up-act-impression — when my roomate drunkenly returns, doing her best drunk roomate impression.
“It’s okay, my roomate’s probably asleep.” I hear her drunk whisper (i.e. normal person bellow) as she walks down the hallway. “Ohhhh…heyyy!” She feigns enthusiasm when she walks past my room trailed by hipsterman/boy.
Lonnggg story short, today, I fiiinally made myself leave my apartment at noon, and he was still there! Our walls are thin, and I could hear him laughing and talking up a storm, making no effort to leave. Ever. Like, longest one night hook up ever. He’s bold, this one. Also, I’m pretty sure he peed on the floor by the toilet….
she even has a hipster haircut. also, why is the crotch halfway down her legs?
she can't believe she's wearing those hideous leggings
ok, i kind of want that cardigan. but not shiny pants. she's not a robot.
"why me god? i just want to wear a ballerina dress and twirl!"
Why am I going to buy a kid $55 glasses that I could buy at a thrift store for $1?
But...but she looks so coooool
me: it’d be bad to get a fedora, right?
kate: yes it would
me: i might get one. probably not though, it might make my head sweat
kate: haha. its kind of a commitment, once its on its on. and then you have hat hair
me: exactly
kate: and you’re known as the fedora girl
kate: and people expect you to be able to dance. these are things you have to consider
me: sooo many other aspects. thank goodness i have you
kate: what would you do? make an unprepared hat decision
I actually really like this
*Where: The Mission, aka Little Williamsburg.
What: Brooklyn’s satellite West Coast hipster state.
Who Lives There: Hipsters, Mexican immigrants, and oh yeah, hipsters.
Why: Because you love: going days on end without bathing, ill-founded pretention, dirty clothes and unwashed hair, “irony”, bicycles, vegan diets, trust funds, working on your “art”, tattoo sleeves, eating disorders, American Apparel, buying organic, being the first to discover bands before they “sell-out”, snorting coke, Tecate beer, and anything else that’s better than being a Yuppy.
*It should be noted, that while the author of this post makes fun of The Mission, she also kind of enjoys it there.
Next Time: The Marina; you found all the Yuppies, but tell me, where did their souls go?
Are we still raising the roof?
So, unless that case of the swine flu you caught the other day has left you disoriented and/or amnesiatic, you probably know that our economy? Not so hot right now. And California? Not the healthiest state in The Union. You may have heard that California has the fourth highest unemployment rate in the country; or that the entire state ran out of cash in February . Today, I read that one million Californians are unemployed. That’s right, 1 million. You’d think that this would kind of bum people out. You’d be wrong. Now that no one has to work during the day, people are happier than ever. Take my neighborhood for example:
My local park was teeming with people sprawled luxuriously in the sun. Some were shirtless, others wore bathing suits — and only two were just crazy homeless people. None were tourists. The sidewalk cafes were littered with Yuppy couples and friends, probably trading composting tips; gelato shops were packed with hooded-headed hipsters. I could go on, except, what is going on San Francisco? No one is at work, and no one seems to mind. Is there a such thing as “funemployment?”
I’d ask my unemployed musician neighbor who lives upstairs, but he’s too busy blasting gypsy carnival music to answer.
Singer/Songwriter Matt Costa
Today’s crush is brought to you by Kate. Thanks, gurl. Mmm. Hipster musicians. I hope he showers.
melsanie
thedith
A Blog of Two Cities 