So yeah, today was awesome, I started a band today with the intent of a pregnancy with my longtime friend Devin. We both have given in some efforted foreplay to starting a band, and today we knocked it up. It will be the revolutionary pioneer in non-profit music, or just nick-named Propaphonhi by a heckling crusty. At least we're not vegan, that band would get shit, for sure.
No no no, this band is a great idea, and I'll release the name when we're official... whatever that means. We'll have it all: A fog machine. Cut off sleeve shirts. Shitty tattoo's that would make the likes of Tommy Lee jealous. Songs about how rock and love are the life, while having degrading songs about hanging out in a rockin' strip clubs. Unprotected sex with an assortment of STD's infested groupies. A double bass drum set. Marshall half stacks, Expensive vintage guitars, and last but not least..... originality.
This idea screams originality, its never been done before. And if you're buying that, I'm a serious master of bullshitting. If you're not, I'm just full of shit, and I appreciate the eye for sarcasm.
Really, to the contrary, we're just gonna be another punk band that doesn't give a fuck, yet secretly does. It's slightly rigged so we won't be complete phonies. There will be an aesthetic found by the right aesthetic seekers, and we will have a fan base of 22 dudes and 3 chicks, fashionistas sporting NOFX, Lawrence Arms, and possibly a Banner Pilot shirts. Maybe a Jawbreaker shirt if we're lucky, but its about taking baby steps.
Don't get me wrong, this is a far fetched dream that was just concieved, and living in a small college town doesn't make it any easier, (not to mention the complete meltdown of cultural evolution through the hipster, which I will go into detail here in a bit), but this dream will be achieved through persistence, a realization of the non-profitability of music, and the most important ambition generator..... booze. The idea is flawless, and hey, maybe a small label will pick us up down the road and our fanbase will grow 1000 percent (do the math, and remember about the babysteps). Either way a new level of stoked has found me. Awesome!
Anyway, I'll cut to the chase. The purpose of this blog.
The purpose of this blog:
I don't know, something about these modern days has me resorting to the internet; its a leisure activity of mine every couple of days. After that my life is a chase for debaucherous nights, packing ice cream cones in a factory for enough money to keep me there, and procrastinating of pursuing my art, music. It's a slightly mindfucking combination that keeps me on edge with despair. Although I know I'm not leading a life of despair, nor will I ever until a midlife crisis, it's always lurking..
So despair lurks (I'm getting sidetracker here), but it's a good reminder that there are fine things in life, and for me to enjoy the fine things in life, theres moderation, and for me being an alcoholic with an ambition of non-profit music as I profit off of packing ice cream cones, I need some time to vent out the quirks and qualities of life, and if I'm gonna be a dropped out nursing student at the moment, I need to construct some form of thought, hence my new blog.
Now behind the name, why The Hipster Bologna. We live in a time of hipsterdom, at least I do being slapped into the age group where my social life resides. In plain english, I'm surrounded by a montage of hipsters, bad hair cuts, weird music, and PBR. Although an older generation could classify me into that boat, these last two, possibly three generations, have seen my boat sailin' for a while, as the new boat, hipster, is a freshly built one. You can still smell the fresh paint. It kind smells like garnier. Hehe.
Either way I think this new cult is similar to bologna sausage, processed and finely ground by a panel of regulation, composed of odds and ends (Manhattan hipsters vary from Scottsdale hipsters who vary from Modesto hipsters due to a change in media source, regional social activity, and fashion source). Or in a simpler understanding, from bologna derives baloney as a meaning for "nonsense."
I know a 70 year old man would consider my taste in life as "nonsense," but if lined up next to 19 a year old art student with a bad haircut, vest, tight jeans with a shoestring belt, and a V-neck shirt, I'd make for a pretty good conversation starter to that 70 year old man.
So I'm finished here, and to all the hipsters who might read this, I'm sorry someone let the cat out of the bag. At least you aren't bad people or anything, you're probably just a little caught up in a trend.
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