The New Old Place To Be

I wanted to leave my post up about Nia through the entirety of her tour here in DC, hence the infrequent posting…I know you were all up round the clock refreshing, dont lie.  Her run went great and we are planning a return tour to DC in the late summer, early fall, so stay tuned.

I spent the month of March pretty much on H St in NE aka “The Atlas District” which is the “new” U st Corridor, which is the old Chinatown.  Gotta love urban renewal, it can make you feel like such a trendsetter to sip beers in a dimly lit cavelike bar who’s front door and view is obscured by a power shovel.  Course apparently I’m late to the party.

My love of the ironic mysanthropy of some hipsters came in high school.  A guy a friend of mine was interested in was into grunge and we were up late debating High Fidelity style about Kurt Cobain becoming a sell-out and the age-old music snob debate of whether it was still okay to like bands once they were famous.  I can certainly appreciate the thrill of plucking something awesome out of obscurity, and experience it often, but where hipsters lose me is with their fickle ability to drop the things they love the moment others share their joy.  To me, music, art, good food is meant to be shared not selfishly squirreled away but I do admit my own impatience with the masses once the floodgates are thrust open.

To this point, I’ll share a sprawling generalization that cracked me up. “Hipsters were the Marines of gentrification”.  Writer/poet Brian Hickey dropped this on me this weekend and explained to me how if we wanted to really remake Baghdad we should send in every horn-rimmed, skinny- jean-wearing, skeptical patriot over there considering how much they love dining and drinking in hostile semi-historical neighborhoods.  I mean sh*t, they are already wearing the damn headscarves as stylish accessories, so they’ll fit right in (course I’m guilty of that too).

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