I explained to Zevon that
there were many habits and appetites I had that were very anti-hipster.
Watching football all Sunday. Calling in sport talk radio shows and being on
hold for over an hour while eating Doritos and reading my latest issue of Motor
Trend. Then there was the matter of pizza. I could never wean myself off this
essential food group. Zevon said not to fret. One of the secrets of being a
hipster was taking something that’s anti-hipster and doing a twist on it so
that it becomes very hipster. For example, dating a stripper is crass and very
anti-hipster. But dating a stripper who is also a published author and tours
the university lecture circuit enlightening the country about her iconoclastic
insights about sexuality is very, very hipster. Or watching football all
weekend is very anti-hipster. But watching football obsessively and blogging
about this emotionally-arrested pastime
by finding some esoteric angle in which you show that football, both its
structure and temperament, is rooted in the pseudo-historical Gaelic folklore
of Lebor Gabala, translated into The
Book of Invasions, and suddenly you are
very, very hipster.
This principle applies to
pizza. Order a pepperoni pizza from Dominoes and you’re a hopeless slob. Put
yams on your pizza, use corn meal, and make the dough yourself and suddenly
you’re a hipster champion.
I have to say, even though
I did not make the homemade pizza with yams and mango chicken sausage and had
to rely on my wife’s cooking acumen for this delicious meal, I still gained
serious Hipster Points and suddenly felt Hipsterdome was not so elusive after
all.
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