10 Step Guide On To How To Crucify A Hipster With A Pair Of Scissors

10 Step Guide On To How To Crucify A Hipster With A Pair Of Scissors

1. With the scissors puncture their tires on their fixes or push bikes.
2. Cut their shoelaces.
3. Attack their clothes cutup their ironic knitted sweater.
4. Or buttoned to the top shirt perhaps their bow tie.
5. Cut up their Skinny maroon jeans.
6. Snip off their hairdo swirl quiff or cut off their top knot.
7. Cut off their fucking Ned Kelly pimping beards or mustaches.
8. Snip their conspicuous thick rimmed non prescription glasses in half.
9. Stab with the scissors in the holy stigmata stab their Jesus phone face up. (Now naked, hairless and disorientated as they can not use the Google maps to get to safety)
10. For the final most cruelest yet most humane act would be to cut off both their thumbs.

You can buy another pair of skinny jeans, another knitted sweater or  Jesus phone Jesus now has a retail value I believe it is $599.00 but you only get two thumbs in this life.

That is how to crucify a hipster with a pair of scissors in 10 Steps.

In Search of the Prols in a Hipster Wasteland

A city’s skyline forged on banalities a true representation of what runs this town. As Marx put it, "money turns everything into a commodity that can be bought and sold. All other values are defeated - honour, integrity, truth, justice, loyalty, even blood kin. Nothing remains but filthy lucre."

I went out late night moonlight rolling out before me in search of derive in search of some of life’s truths I came up trumps. This city has spent decades trying to erase the face of the poor and now even the characters, the true individuals have been erased designed out pushed so far out of sight all that is left is a wasteland of hipsters. Who the fuck wants these pro-conformist–pseudo-counter-culture-profiteers that are or esteem to be the moneyed contradiction that they are. 

Truth be told I was out in search of the prols. I believe the term is called going slumming. How could I forget this town has no recognisable venue for them to inhabit all there endroits have been razed to the ground, renovated beyond recognition or turned into upmarket apartments. I question if these places still exist perhaps only in memories glimpsed in my youth.

All in bed at 9 or glued to the TV screen still tut tut tut off to bed in time to make the daily commute. 

Fuck this postcard town. Fuck everyone in it who is sleepwalking through this city languishing in its ever present.

I felt defeated last night the only signs of life were the police siren whirling giving me a head ache. I understood why men in this city glass, king hit and kick each other, it is to feel alive. To see blood surge and bring the shock of life into vivid being. I am now assured this city  has no heart beat anymore just the ring of the till. The prols are sleeping. This city is expensive. The only light on in my street was from the bedroom of the video game addict that lives above my apartment and his occasional, "fuck you!" yelled at his television screen.

Hipsterburbia - City of Vain

I feel the void inside me... I fill it with caffeine, cigarettes and alcohol. My lover would think it is because he is not beside me, my mother says it is my lack of subbmission my godlessness that just leaves me unfulfilled.

Both god and love don’t live here in this city.

I seem to believe it is Sydney a young city that deprives me of a wholeness this tired deadbeat soulless ville, where people stare through me, the crowds with their dead eyes or heads bowed looking at their Jesus phones. The familiarity that breeds contempt even as I watch Chippendale rise again the cranes that push and pull the sky closer, skeletons that will haunt the skyline for centuries to come. I feel defeated by my city. I will have to retreat the battle lost long ago. I wish I came of age in a simpler time where my peers the designerati do not have to exchange tips of where to buy discount fresh produce.

We design, plan, approve buildings and apartments we cannot afford to live in or speculate upon and would not choose to regardless of price as they are banal hideous forms. We all know these forms have more to do with filling the client’s pockets than the slogans that we write about such as lifestyle, urbanism and sustainability. Through the lens of marketing the way many words become unrecognisable fallen by the wayside, to the point they have lost all meaning they are just empty they hold no promise so now these words repel me.

I bide my time here waiting for the day I too am pushed out and beyond by a word I learnt at university - gentrification - a form or urbanism much to do with winners and losers.

One day I to will be pushed out not made out of the right stuff in this shrewd city that I call home. There were no answers at university to the questions I posed of this type of socio-spatial economic restructuring and I do not see any answers anytime over the horizon or beyond the cranes that rise over Chippendale.