Hipster Hipster Party


By Martin Olson

You are hip. You are SO hip. You are meta-hip. You were hip before it was cool. You were hip before the first Hipster Party.
You go to the Hipster Squared Party. You drink a cup of coffee. You smoke a cigarette. You see a dirty hipster. She sneers at you, and calls you a hipster. You throw your PBR in her face. It gets all over her mustache.
You take pictures on a shitty disposable camera. You get them developed. You put them on Facebook, in an album titled “Uber beaucoup de Hipster Party”. Your friends ‘like’ them. You feel validated. You are shallow. You are SO shallow. You are meta-shallow. You were shallow before it was cool.
Or not. Whatever.

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By Terra Scott

Decadence dusts balderdash like blush.
Relentlessly, to secure resplendence.

I, am worthy,
swells stunning bunkum.

I, am lovely, 

I, am
wishful sorrow’s winsome

flawless, tangible,
with the audacity to
stunning, absurd,

and thankful.

omit thin, my sleepy love.

have enchanted bliss with generous wanderlust.

Breathtaking, as gruesome breaks beautiful
Skedaddle gorgeous, we’ve arrived at mutual.

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