The Hipster Diaries...

After years of close observation, I believe that I have worked out the intricacies within the mind of a hipster.

          Banana                     Masterpiece

Here is my most recent observation. To those who are thinking 'these two pictures are exactly the same apart from a change in contrast in the second one', you are grossly uncultured/just go back to your hole that isn't in Shoreditch. The second one is obviously a fine specimen of my phone's lomography effect which just happens to be a free app as money is so overrated. One button and BAM give your photos a nostalgic dirty feel which is so reminiscent of individualistic anti-modernism. Yeah, that is an actual thing your hayters (I like to alter my spelling by adding unnecessary letters to words because I'm a convention defying bad-ass).

  Pre-Pubescent Ear Vomit                               Masterpiece
                                        

There has been a dramatic growth in vinyl sales this year. This means one thing- the hipsters have realised that it is kitsch and are therefore cashing in. To those out there who are not well acquainted with the world of hipsters, this is not just two versions of one album. Oh no, a vinyl carries with it a certain prestige, almost enough to compensate for the fact that you don't own a vinyl player. There's nothing better than imagining the faint crackle of imagined music you pretentious prat.

The Presidential disgRace...

Dear America,

I feel like I should just sit here and watch you all suffer after you brewed our tea in your lake (although I do find that it says a lot when we British solve our problems by depositing large amounts of caffeine in our bodies, not in lakes because we're a rational nation), but I have decided to bury the hatchet.

I am starting to believe that you would vote for a packet of crisps if it was wrapped in the promise of irrelevant bible quotes, homophobia, tax reduction and of course, saturated fat. For those of you who are in possession of a brain, I recommend that you attain a love for maple syrup and hockey fast so that you have something to ease the pain acquired from the loss of faith in humanity when you are forced to emigrate to Canada due to the repugnant stench of a growing Santorum fan base. I don't mean to be harsh, and I know you're a family man Rick, but you are truly a moron. Give my best to the wife and seven kids who you mention at the start of every campaign in order to squeeze votes out of those who care.

Please, refrain from being the idiots of the international community, again. It's bad enough that you allow the existence of capital punishment, Fox News... and the Kardashians. Obama is the only sane candidate out there. And he can sing - I'm not saying that George Michael could run our country, (although I wouldn't mind the inclusion of pelvic thrusts into our legislation) but it definitely makes him a cool president Rick Santorum is a fundaMENTAList.

Yours sincerely,

The UK

My Not So Funny Valentine...

Bitterness is a strong word. I would call it 'dry humour blanketed in painful not-so-ironic' irony.

Don't get me wrong, I am very happy for all those out there who celebrate their love/emotional drivel (only joking, but not really) together on a daily basis. However, I think I speak on behalf of all those 'Single Ladies' (shut up, Beyonce, the only reason you're celebrating being a 'Single Lady' is because you are a millionaire, you're happily married and you have a body like a a god) when I say Valentine's day is an excuse to listen to Adele whilst lying face down and crying at your several cats, only to realise by their angry shivers that your love is not reciprocated. Even inanimate objects awkwardly avoid eye contact.

Valentine's day creates a massive chasm in the self-esteem of many. It is nothing but a cosmic bitch-slap of a day, forcing many people to abuse the ability to eat and leaving many of us with stomachs the size of the world of loneliness in our hearts. My advice to all you singletons out there? Watch the Notebook, whilst listening to Joni Mitchell and reading Sylvia Plath. That is a killer combination.

The Hipster Pub...

Hipster: A term defined as 'a subculture of men and women with d-bag tendencies'.

Okay, you've got me. That is not the official Oxford dictionary definition, but I feel that this term has been defined in a rather formulaic fashion. I define hipster from experience. I realise I have really attacked the 'let's wear chinos for irony' culture countless times, but it is an area of society about which I feel particularly strongly.

Today, I walked into a pub, filled with students on their Macbooks/laptops in all different shades of commercial. 'Why are you here?' I thought to myself, slowly accepting the fact that it was not only Starbucks which harboured this particular type of pretentious git. I don't know if it was the overwhelming number of empty frames or squint-worthy lack of lighting (which made me look like a right tool when taking my phone flash light out in order to inspect the menu, score 1-0 to the hipsters) which automatically set me in a bad mood, but there was very little which awaited me in that pub which would relieve my angst.

Admittedly, I was wearing my Bob Dylan t-shirt and so fit in wonderfully with the assortment of band t-shirts and graphic tees, namely Guns 'n' Roses and abstract black and white images of a man's face. However, I must say that next to pink, blue, white, brown, anyandall coloured brogues, my converse looked pretty shabby and mainstream.

I thought I would be safe in the toilet. But on the door of the cubicles were little One Tree Hill-esque sayings. You know, the vague ones that you hear at the end of an episode which always end with a patronising slowed pace and downward tone;
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IHHkl7hSxPs&feature=related

The hipsters are trying to attack us when we're most vulnerable. Even if it means on the loo, but we must fight fire with fire and champion an un-d-bag lifestyle without Docmartins and profile pictures with toy camera filters.

The Awkward Moment...

Every year comes with its fair share of phrases which saturate every day speech. In 2010 we saw the emergence of;

'not gonna lie but...'.

Yeah, I didn't think you were going to lie until you said that and planted the seeds of doubt. Now I'm not sure if I believe that that sandwich was actually amazing. After all you have every reason to lie about something which I have as little interest in as the 'Shopaholic' books. Seriously though, how do you manage to drag out the fact that she is a compulsive shopper and haunted by a man in a white mask called Jigsaw in seven books? Oh crap, I'm mixing up films in the genre;

'repeat-one-storyline-by-creating-ridiculous-numbers-of-sequels-until-people-notice-and-make-a-cult-out-of-it'.

'literally... (some sort of casual statement which makes 'literally' totally irrelevant)'.

'Literally' doesn't make your statement more credible. It's not as if we say, 'Woah, good thing she said she was literally eating chocolate, otherwise I might not have believed her'. It is the new 'like'. 'OMG I literally just wet myself laughing'. No you didn't, so you're a liar. Or you might have a problem. Either way, you're a liar or have a seriously weak bladder and may need help.

However, 2011 saw the outbreak of;

'the awkward moment when...'. 

This is a phrase which I hope dies with the rest of 2011. People used this all the time. "The awkward moment when you're eating cereal". Why are you uncomfortable around wheat products? "The awkward moment when you answer the phone". Yeah, that is awkward because you're just supposed to let it ring. I've been in my fair share of awkward moments and know that using the phrase 'the awkward moment when...' does not alleviate the situation and make it any less wrist slitting. With my best friends being Iranian and Cypriot, I also know that casual racism does not help, although it does momentarily divert attention, at your expense of course, but I would rather be a bigot than that ass who uses the 'awkward moment when'.

Music's Obsession With Bad Weather...

'Never mind, I'll find, someone like you...'

Yeah. You go and do that Adele and please for the love of god stop moaning and wailing. Not only are her songs as sincere as a dead gnome, but if I hear about her attempting to set fire to the rain again, I think I may just eat my radio. There is nothing deep or musical about that metaphor. It is stupid. Adele is the kind of singer who can sing absolute crap like 'I found the blue in red and robed a giraffe's snore in bidets' and make a platinum record out of it, claiming that it is representative of the chaos within life. I'm sure Tracy Emin is currently reading this and planning her next art installation.

Don't get me started on Ed Sheeran. I realise he represents the ginger minority but we see enough of Rupert Grint to last us a life time on the ginger public platform. The number of times he refers to 'cold Decembers' demonstrates a great example of pathetic fallacy. If I wanted to be reminded of the crapness of the weather I would attempt small talk with a British person. I know what you're all saying - he claims that '(his) mind will always be stronger than (his) songs are'. You know that there's something wrong with the music industry when a singer rising in the charts admits to his songs being weak, unnecessarily depressing and much like girls from Essex - unnaturally orange. Fine, those are my words not his, but I expect he's too busy destroying lego houses or trying to incorporate meaningful words such as 'pastries' into songs based on prostitution and drugs. Or maybe even doing other indie things like setting fire to rain.

The unCommon Room...

It is now that time that every student dreads. You occasionally get that one person who seems to have been born for university, and thrives off the perils of interviews, or the general impending university related doom. They want to free themselves from Hier(achy) Education. The news of rejection is reacted to with hysteric claims of having to become a hooker (to which you sympathically laugh and actually think 'good luck with that face...') - or just a group of self pitying teenagers moaning about how it is the frosting on the giant crap cake that is their life. The chaos of uni applications certainly changes the dynamics of everything. The divides develop into big stereotype feeding schisms.

Firstly, we must analyse the nature of students studying the arts. Many attempt to take on an air of 'bohemian intelligence'. This basically involves;

- Taking a Guardian newspaper and not reading it, but sarcastically laughing at a couple of ambiguous words and saying the classic; 'ahah look at what Cameron's done... the private school tool... Oh Boris Johnson, getting up to your usual mischief'.

- Buying a t-shirt from a really dirty looking but 'vintage shop' in the Northern Qu- actually I'm being too mainstream indie- in Narnia or some surreal place covered in toilets and broken vinyls. The hidden meaning in these eccentric places is this; there is no hidden meaning you pretentious spanner.

- Sometimes (rather too vocally) announcing a new found love for a band with a name which was obviously contrived by a drunken night of playing with a dictionary. Stupid names like 'Monkey Blue Moon Bananas', 'Llama Empire Ninja Sweepers' or 'Bat For Lashes'. I realise the latter is an actual band, but I just wanted to emphasize the fact that slurring consonants and pronouncing all vowels as 'a's are incredibly annoying; 'Lat's spand tha naght at maan'. Not pointing any fingers at anyone. Ellie Goulding.

- Taking photos on a pentax when you have no idea what you're doing. 'Let's demonstrate inner teen turmoil by taking a diagonal shot of a tree branch and focusing on a small part of it. Then add effects to it because nothing says I'm an original teen as much as a sepia shot.' You get the occasional body shot. But standing up straight and smiling is so standard. How about twisting your body into awkward limping positions, opening your mouth half and inch and then looking away from the camera? Congratulations, you look like you're having a stroke.

And then we consider the medics. This species is one to be approached with caution and fear. They huddle together, discussing causes of great anguish and suffering. Who cares about world hunger or the shady situation of the Middle East? The pain that medics feel when adding one too many drops to titration is comparable to child birth, if the child coming out of you is Shrek. I remember once making a joke, prescribing 'a chill pill' to one friend. I thought it was a brilliant suggestion and displayed it with loud thigh slapping laugh. She stared at me, as if I was eating a puppy. They went on about how being a potential medic is so hard and 'you just don't get it'. I'm sorry, I should really sympathise.

But I don't.