I had a dream that I was in a candy store, and I was incredibly popular and exquisitely hip, and then I ate a enormous marshmallow.
When I woke up, my pillow was gone.
It all stems from a deprived childhood. Even if I wanted to be trendy, and I tried, I’d fail, miserably. Middle school and high school found me so often in thrift stores, it was downright scandalous. In an era of Benetton, and Jordache, it was social suicide. Oh sure, I tried to hide it. I went to Gabrielle Brothers, where clothing goes to die. I’d pick through the cast-offs to scavenge some name brands, so the girls in gym class wouldn’t give me the “stink eye,” or worse. But, inside I knew it was the shred of facade keeping me from being found out as a trendy fashion horse phony. Only hand-me-downs from a few rich kids could throw them off the scent once in a while. A saving grace perhaps.
No, I couldn’t cope with continual failure, so, I gave that up. Art Majors have a bit of an advantage here. You won’t find that I’m cutting edge. I’m not hip. Tragically or otherwise. Quirky doesn’t cut as hip. But at a mad hatter’s tea party, I’d fit right in.
The Oscars are on tonight, and it’s very important to be cool, hip, fashionable, and cutting edge. But not to be the fool. The pre-Oscar hoopla begins days in advance on television now. Oprah pimped herself to promote the nominees last night on a special show. HYPE HYPE HYPE
It all emphasizes how off beat I am, and maybe I’m not alone. Or…perhaps I am.
I realize people won’t read this blog because I know the latest on Justin Beiber, or because I’m in-like-flin with Glen Beck, (ugh) or because I just got the iPhone S, and I’m a ball of awesome coolness, because I have a app for that.
It might take a while to know what things are about here at this site. Maybe, it’ll be a while, before people can separate the goofiness, from the incised gaze at deeper being; or apprehend how those two realms can, and do intertwine.
Blogs-to be widely read-are supposed to be on the latest news, and on top of everything. They are to be authored by incredibly hip people on their way up in the world.
I apologize about that.
As a consolation, I can still guarantee there are lots of surprises and lateral, creative thinking around here. I hope that helps to soothe the pain.
Thanks for loving me, anyway. Or humoring me.
peace out, yo.