Being blunt
No, not James Blunt. That would never do.
But just the same, you’re beautiful:
I know I can never be with you, cute hipster girl. My bicycle has not only brakes, but multiple gears. It is, in fact, a hybrid, the fanny pack of the bicycle world. I am entirely free of tattoos. My facial hair is patchy at best, so I am unable to grow a beard. I live west of I-35. I am not a member of a lo-fi shoegaze indie pop band that sometimes gigs at Progress Coffee, and indeed I can’t play any musical instruments. I can’t even play the ukulele, the fanny pack of the indie rock world. I find Wes Anderson somewhat tedious, and I have not read a single issue of McSweeney’s in anything even vaguely resembling its entirety. My jeans do not hug my legs, and I do not have a single stylishly retro vest or hat in my closet. I rarely listen to KUT or KVRX. Although I own a Moleskine, I have to be honest with you … I don’t really write in it that much. I went to the Chuck Close show at the Austin Museum of Art and I’m pretty sure I didn’t get it. I shop at HEB and not Wheatsville.
My appreciation of Hall and Oates is entirely non-ironic. I occasionally eat meat.
But the biggest problem, hipster girl of Austin, is that you’re just too intimidating in your good taste and vaguely-counterculture-but-not-threateningly-eccentric hotness for me to ever work up the pluck to talk to you. I know I will never be cool enough. Le sigh.
And forty years after I left Austin, here on this blog, the fanny pack of the Internet world, I seem suddenly to be missing some of the girls who never paid me the slightest attention in the first place.
Which is, of course, all of them.
McGehee »
25 November 2009 · 9:22 am
“To all the girls I’ve glanced sidelong at before…”
I can relate.