Tuesday, January 18, 2005
I've just had my hair cut by a man calling himself, "Cisqo". I fear that the result is a little too "Old Street" for me. I'm all a kafuffle about how to spend my evening; everything I can think of doing now seems like it would conform to the worst kind of hipster cliché. Whatever air of sincerity I possessed has evaporated and the performing of any activity would have a whiff of horrible, distanced knowingness.
Oh, you would be listening to "To Lefty From Willie". Well done. Not "Red Headed Stranger" like any normal person.
You're wearing a Paul Wolfowitz t-shirt?! Could you be any more obvious?
You'll be watching Celebrity Big Brother later, will you? Do you think this makes you special?
Oh, great. Calling your Grandma are you? Bravo. How unexpected. Wouldn't have thought that someone like you would be enquiring after the well-being of their elderly relatives. You prick.
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Oh, you would be listening to "To Lefty From Willie". Well done. Not "Red Headed Stranger" like any normal person.
You're wearing a Paul Wolfowitz t-shirt?! Could you be any more obvious?
You'll be watching Celebrity Big Brother later, will you? Do you think this makes you special?
Oh, great. Calling your Grandma are you? Bravo. How unexpected. Wouldn't have thought that someone like you would be enquiring after the well-being of their elderly relatives. You prick.
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