Hipster Dichotomy

My present data of research towards the pros and cons of being a hipster, which was once the emo, was once the punk, was once the goth, which was once the asshole.

1
PRO: fashion conscious, on average better dressed than most
CON: overemphasizing importance of one's image and look,

2
PRO: despises and rejects established norms within the hierarchal groups found in adolescence and tweens
CON: participates meticulously in the styles, trends within their own social group, as well as patterns in manner, speech and activities

3
PRO: topics of conversation are interesting and eclectic
CON: more elitist than intellectual, overall superficial involvement in certain interests

4
PRO: funny, witty, sarcastic
CON: ironic to the point where nothing is genuine

5
PRO: good music taste
CON: judgmental, often times relentless opinion to mainstream music (unless otherwise trying to be ironic, see 3)

6
PRO: confident
CON: superiority complex, exclusivity

7
PRO: good company, good time
CON: typically seen in students of the upper-middle/upper class with no job or ambitions

8
PRO: reflective of the smug, individual-based and some cases apathetic generation of today
CON: adamantly popular and growing trend, and ironically losing its original goal of individuality

9
PRO: finds the label 'hipster' unappealing and pretentious
CON: usually is a self-proclaimed 'hipster' and keen to the collective movements happening within

10
PRO: cool
CON: cool

Memories let you know when you're done for.

I. I was stuck working the at the community center, tutoring a man named Carlos because I hadn't done my taxes five years ago and had refused to pay the subsequent enormous fines. He was thumbing through one of those introductory level English dictionaries, and on a particular page, he paused for more than an awkward moment. He asked a question hidden inside a choppy sentence, along the lines of, "Hi James, what is difference from a words "disparate" and "desperate?", to which I replied "one letter".

II. He used to get so stinking drunk. He'd wake up in the morning shaking along with the almost caved-in floor never knowing quite what to do. I've never felt more alive than the days I spent looking in his window and watching him dissolve. And when he died, like we had all expected and hoped, his dogs knocked down the apartment door and mauled every mailman in California.

III. We lined up for the cork popgun shooting range at the fair. The hot dog vendor's catcalls have not made me sick to my stomach yet. A kid from the youth club hangs around, the one with the stray eyebrow. I lent him my last cigarette 'cause he looked at me cross eyed, and it made me laugh.

August

staring through windows
trees dark, expanding
needles in my hair
kisses are empty

i remember
the parking lot affairs
a means to no end
and hearts deep, aching

skin against skin
forehead against forehead

but the radio tunes out

august is coming to an end