Last week, I was interviewed by Margaret Durfy for her dissertation. Her subject is city living, urban subcultures, and hipsters. For whatever reason, she was put into contact with me by my friend Katie, who long ago fucked off out of NYC to go grad school in Boulder and, you know, be all successful and stuff.
Anyway. I met Margaret at Joe on East 13th Street. Despite my oft-professed misanthropy, I found her very affable, not least because she wanted to ask me all about my favorite subject: me!
I have become marginally more rock and roll with the acquisition of my second tattoo. It is a four-pointed star centered upon the joint of my left shoulder.
While I was getting tattooed, one of the other artists in the shop came down to prepare for a job. He was talking about his client, a girl who looked so young that he told her “No” before she even had the opportunity to ask a question. However, she produced a passport, and as such, he agreed to tattoo her.
Her idea was cool. She seemed nice enough. However, she (and her friends) struck me as rather idiotic.
Why? Because she was getting her tattoo because it’s just so punk rock, that’s why.