Life on the East Side- Episode 2
For those of you who don’t live in Austin, Texas, something that we’ve become known for as of late is our near dysfunctional obsession with food trailers. Like insatiable rabbits, these mini-restaurants are popping up left and right. Actually, this morning, I saw one sprouting out of the ground in my backyard.
We also really like Kate Bush.
A lot.
A lot lot.
A blog post about a kick-ass momma defending her 5 year-old’s desire to dress as a woman for Halloween took the Internet by storm yesterday. The story- written by a mother of three who goes by the moniker Nerdy Apple Bottom– got picked up by CNN, Gawker, The Guardian, and The Advocate and now has over 20,000 comments. Her story is simple and concise, but managed to create a stir between readers who related and those who did not. In short, the mother vents her anger towards other mothers at her son’s church preschool who questioned why she let him dress as Daphne from Scooby Doo for Halloween. It is difficult for me to imagine that anyone would disagree with the mother’s support of her son. To tell a child “no” due to your own insecurities about gender roles and sexuality just seems like bad parenting to me.
The mother’s story really hit home for me because I was made fun of for wearing men’s clothing as a kid.
When I was in junior high I came to school dressed in suits. Sometimes (more…)
Are you sick of all this hipster talk on the web?
Yeah, I kind of am too.
Don’t let the name of my blog fool you.
That was just for branding purposes.
People have been trying to kill off hipsters for a long time now.
The truth of the matter is, the phrase blew into epic proportions that society lost control of.
Now they’re trying to reel it back in.
…You have to break them up into 4 or 5 identifying phrases, duh!
Second to Brooklyn, the supposed epicenter of Hipsterville, I would take a guess that Austin, Texas and Portland, Oregon vie for the next spot in line. Since I live in Austin, I can tell you that it is one giant cesspool of every facet of hipsterdom.
Last week another article popped up in a major publication about the twenty-something hipster. However, this essay claimed that this generation of hipster is dead. The PBR-drinking (do we really drink that much PBR?), flannel-wearing, vinyl-buying hipster is gone.
I have my own theories on this (which I will post tomorrow), but one of my favorite bloggers, Meghan over at Blackberries to Apples, has some thoughts on this topic that I’d like to share with you…
I hope everyone has a great Halloween!
As most of you know- because I yaked on about it enough- I’m going as Freddie Mercury for Halloween.
2.) I asked the employee if they sell chest hair and she handed me what looked like a stoner’s ratty chin braid. Once home, I unraveled the lock of hair to discover the left-overs of Alec Baldwin getting a full body shave.
It was a Sam Cooke Pandora station kind of day.
Where silky-voiced soul singers played roulette on my computer.
Sam Cooke. Otis Redding. Marvin Gaye. Tammy Terrell. Curtis Mayfield. Jackie Wilson.
All unparalleled talent that died way too young.
Then I realized, “Wait a minute- they all died in some really f’d up ways too.”
Plane crashes, shootings, falling stage equipment, brain tumors, hot grits (nobody actually died from having hot grits thrown on them, but Al Green did become a born again afterwards). There was no shortage of colorful murders and deaths in the soul world.
Let’s start with the most insane first:
Sam Cooke– Cooke was one of the most prolific R&B singers of his time. With 19 albums and 29 Top 40 singles under his belt by the age of 33, it looked like nothing was going to stop this young man from taking over the world. Except for maybe a seedy motel manager in South Central with a gun and a broom. Cooke loved his ladies and his booze and unfortunately the two did not mix well (more…)
Staying on theme with last Friday’s post about twenty-somethings.
I was in my junior year at Ithaca College when I applied and was admitted to the communication school’s LA satellite program. My father and I drove from New York to California with what I could fit in my ’97 white Ford Taurus. Once settled in LA, my first task was to find an internship. I sifted through the database of internships given to us, but none of them appealed to me. I decided I would cold call companies where I knew I wanted to work (George Clooney and Steven Soderberg’s Section 8, Ben Stiller’s Red Hour, Drew Barrymore’s Flower Pictures), but there was one actor in particular I was itching to work for. I called his office and asked if they needed an intern. They said not really (more…)