aujourd'hui.

i have sans doubt returned to the land of hipsters. everywhere i go, i either see them or every once in a while notice their absence in polo skirts covered in golf clubs. they follow me in their over sized moldy sweaters, crusty with bong water. they pick eternally-lodged wedgies from their extremely short mom-jean shorts. they continue to never wash their hair, cultivate pseudo-mullets, mutton chops, pornstaches, and other facial atrocities. their tiny woven purses burst with hand-rolled cigarettes and matches, because nicotine is constantly needed to maintain their svelte-ness. they have awful memories and generally introduce themselves to me several times. they can be nice, obscenely annoying, or drab... similar to the rest of the non-ironic population.