Tag Archives: hipsters

A Hipster Blog on Gay Rights

I found this on a hipster blog and thought it more than worth re-posting from a post called “love is no one’s biz-ness but yours” :

“All that aside, I’ll tell you how I feel about the churches’ opinion on gay marriage/gay people not getting equal rights:

I think it’s fucking bullshit! Gay people, straight people, Caucasian people, Black people, Asian people, Latino people, etc- we’re all just PEOPLE. We all come out of a vagina. We’re all just somebodies baby. Babies who (hopefully) grow up, learn how to walk and speak and read and write. We all breathe, wake up in the morning and go to sleep. We all experience happiness and excitement. We all get sad and cry. We bleed, we pee, we’re ticklish, we wear clothes, we fuck, and we make love. We make babies, we have mothers, and brothers, and sisters and cousins. We feel nervous, we feel pride, we get scared, and we’re brave. We work shitty jobs, or we have epic careers. We play sports, route for teams, and we serve our country. And, if we’re LUCKY, we fall in love. We ALL share these things, and MORE!”



Three Hipsters

Three hipsters sit on a street corner in New Orleans. They dirty their wash jeans in the grime, writing poems for a dime. They sneak a toke with a prostitute nearby, afterward calling him by name. They are cross with typewriters between their legs. The intoxicated barfly citizens stagger by and throw money at them for a different thrill, occasionally handing them cigarettes. The hipsters squint through their clear large-lensed glasses and craft the same poems, over and over again, giving the drunks something to challenge the senses. The hipsters’ fingers strike the keys with the extra strength that heavy vintage rings can provide. The streetlight blinds the drunks but fuels the avant-garde warriors. One holds a pipe in his lips, the smoke stinging his eyes but pumping his ego. The hot night allows sweat drip from beneath their wool caps, suffocating their heads in the Louisiana heat. After a long night of selling poems, one sniffs. It’s time to head to Snake n Jakes for a PBR.

first photo from WeHeartIt.

(c) Ada Vaskys