Williamsburg hipsters declared war on their counterparts across the East River today. Little is known about the origins of what is sure to be a bloody and ironic confrontation, but there are already reports of eye-rolling, finger-pointing and disparaging remarks regarding one another’s musical tastes.
The first incident stemmed from a confrontation at the Sidewalk Café, located in the heart of Alphabet City on the corner of 6th Street and Avenue A.
"During one of our Monday night Anti-Folk Hootenannies™ there was a tussle towards the end,” said Anti-Folkster Lach. “One guy was upset that he didn’t get to perform an acoustic rendition of Pavement’s 'Gold Soundz' and shouted at an audience member to ‘Go back to DUMBO.’ Apparently the guy was from Williamsburg and didn’t take very kindly to it.”
Referring to themselves as Colonials, a not-so-veiled ironic allusion to their neighborhood, Williamsburg hipsters have started wearing red coats.
" I’ve even seen some triangle hats around here,” said an elderly bartender from the area. “At least they aren’t made out of mesh. Yet.” She then proceeded to serve beer on tap into 32-ounce Styrofoam cups.
Hunter Flangley, an artist from Ludlow St., has emerged as the thick-rimmed leader of the East Villagers. “We hipsters have done our part in turning Alphabet City from a crack-infested shithole into one of the trendiest neighborhoods in the city,” Flangley said. “And these Williamsburg ‘colonials’ traipse over their precious bridge and think they can just set foot in whichever unnamed dive they please. I’m getting sick of it, and so are my $200 jeans-wearing brethren.”
" Flangley’s a pretentious asshole,” said Marc Gloster, a beat poet from Bedford Ave. “He’s not even below poverty level; his rich parents have supported his ‘starving artist’ thing since he graduated from Bard. On top of that, I’ve heard rumors that he secretly listens to Audioslave. Hipster my ass.”
Gloster then put on the latest Modest Mouse album and proceeded to write God-awful poetry in his 15-square-foot studio apartment.
Later in the evening, Flangley arranged a meeting at the East Villagers’ base of operations, The Musical Box.
"I’m really only here because I heard that Gloster used to be an investment banker in L.A.,” said Gina Rabideaux, of East 3rd Street. “My band, Pussy Cat Nostalgia has been slumming around the Village for 10 years, slowly building up a cult following, and this capitalistic bastard has the gall to call himself a poet? He even tried to add me as a Friendster a few weeks ago. I already have 174 friendsters, thank you very much.”
"I gotta be honest, I wasn’t planning on leaving my couch all evening,” said Derryck Olyphant. “But when I heard there was gonna be free Stella from 7-9, I laced up my Sauconys and ran over there faster than you can say ‘Stop Bush.’”
"Thank you all for coming on such short notice,” Flangley said. “I know there’s a Fire Theft concert at Bowery Ballroom tonight, so I’ll try to make this quick. As hipsters, we have been acknowledged by the general population as hipper-than-thou, although it’s not as if we give a shit what the general population thinks anyway. But we’ve been infringed upon by our second-rate ilk from across the East River. ‘Dumbo’ – what kind of ridiculous name for a neighborhood is that, anyway? They’re taking our (lack of) jobs, appropriating our clothing and brainwashing twentysomethings into thinking it’s cool to move out of Manhattan. We must put an end to this behavior immediately!”
Not all hipsters on both sides of the eastern-most river in the city are so pugnacious. Indeed, the obscure bands they stake their reputations on want the fighting to end. Paul Banks, lead singer of Interpol, has gotten together with several local musicians for a benefit concert to end the strife.
" The New York music scene is all about being aloof and too cool to care about what others think of you, and we just want to get back to that,” says Banks. “I mean, who listens to a band like Yo La Tengo and feels like fighting? These skinny, scraggly guys just aren’t up to it.”
― jw (ex machina), Thursday, 20 October 2005 17:22 (twenty years ago)
Stripping is kinda odd to me for the same reason, though at least with that it's like you're presently engaging in an experience -- you're in the same airspace with the desired body parts, somewhat interacting with them, and kinda telling your brain you're having a genuine sexual experience. And you're getting drunk, I suppose. I can see how that works. And maybe I can get a plane, if the idea is that you whip out the porn on a long flight, like late at night in business class, and get all stoked up and run to the lav and jerk off real quick and then settle down to sleep more relaxed and so on. But the notion of just getting yourself all aroused and then, umm, flying, or riding the subway -- these things aren't very comfortable to begin with!
― nabisco (nabisco), Thursday, 20 October 2005 19:01 (twenty years ago)
two years pass...