Breaking Up With a Hipster

Because this site needs one more break-up letter…

(First appeared in Ampheta’Zine)

Dear Johnny Hipster –

I know this feels rushed and judgmental.  And I know that “Dear John” break-up letters are cliche.  But then again, after this, I won’t have to hear you rant about cliches anymore.  And let’s be honest, don’t you dress like all your friends?  Don’t you love everything they love?  And isn’t being just like them a little bit……well, never mind.

will miss so many things about you.  I’ll miss your Che Guevara hat, your navy peacoat, your scarves.  Oh, your scarves.  The way you wrap them around once, then through, then down.  I’ll miss your real tobacco pipe.  And your tobacco.  As you always say, “beautifully blended fine long-cut shag.”

The lying hurt us.  I know you still love Green Day.  And not just early 90s Green Day before they “sold out.”  I heard you singing “Boulevard of Broken Dreams” in the shower when you didn’t think I was home the other day.  And I lied to you too. I was wearing a Hines Ward jersey and watching the Steelers game this weekend but turned it off and hid the jersey under the mattress when I heard you come in. Thank goodness for your fixie’s handlebars clunking against the wall.

Damn.  I’m feeling so much nostalgia right now.  I wasn’t lying about your new horn-rimmed glasses.  I do like them better than your old horn-rimmed glasses. And I’ll miss the way you roll your cuffs after you take off your tweed jacket.  Your boots.  Your record collection. Sorry, your vinyl.    See, that’s the sort of thing.  I won’t miss how you’d tell me you were “thinking of watching a thought-provoking film” when everyone on earth knew you just wanted to sit your lazy ass down in front of the television and watch a plain-old movie.

I’m four beers down right now.  And it’s not Guinness.  It’s not even PBR, the only cheap beer you and your friends have deemed acceptable.  No, this is Hamm’s.  The beer refreshing.  In pounders.  $4.39 at Safeway.  A store not locally owned.

Oh, and Tom Waits night was also not fun.  None of you have his voice, and without his voice, the whole thing seemed sort of silly.  And no, I don’t want to hear the story about you smoking an American Spirit in the alley with Frank Black one more time.  He was sort of famous a million years ago.

And I don’t like Radio Head.  There.  I said it.  Wow.  It must really be over.

And by the way, your writing group sucks.  They don’t write enough (you don’t write enough) and Keats is not a good poet for imitation.  Neither is T.S. Eliot. Trust me, you’re never going to get there.  Ever.  I don’t care what your MFA professor whispered in your ear right before you walked across the stage to graduate from Columbia.  And no, I don’t want to hear that story one more time either.

How many magazines have paid you for your poems?  Huh?  What was that?  I can’t hear you.

Well I guess this letter got meaner than I meant it to.  But the message is clear.

And this will be in your hands soon.  Yes, I know where you are right now.  It’s open mic afternoon at the coffee shop that only serves organic free-trade espresso. I don’t remember the name of it but it’s the only one on the block in Italian, so I think I’ll find it just fine.

I’ll just finish this six-pack of Hamm’s and buzz on down there.  Make a scene.





5 thoughts on “Breaking Up With a Hipster

  1. Peter, you sound like you’ve been hurt. The best way to get over a break up, is to start loving yourself first! When you’ve accomplished this, everything else falls into place. If I can help, let me know.


  2. Greetings Peter-

    First, I’d like to address how truly sorry I am for being so slow to write back to you. I’ve only been using a typewriter these past few months and what you call ‘social networking’ has become almost impossible to keep up with.

    I’ve given a lot of thought to your letter, as well as existence in general. With so many beings on this earth, I understood your point of view. It is difficult to remain in a relationship with one individual when there are so many other souls out there. I pondered this frequently as I lay under Nevada starlight, camping in the flatbed of my dusty little 96’ Ford Ranger xlt (which I own ironically). For days at a time I would be alone in thought, but then other companions would join me for a day or six. Linda, Joy, Zero, John, Pablo, and Naomi. Each one of these individuals taught me a lesson, not only in love, but life.

    However, I will not go into detail as it would be callous and make you very jealous.

    To the point of my letter, there are a few things that I would like to address. I’ve changed, and I’d like to prove it.

    No longer do I wear that silly hat or peacoat with scarves – no, I live in a state of endless spring, endless birth. And it rains quite a bit here. I’ve become regularly outfitted with women’s Patagonia jackets and sweaters (I find men’s sizing fails to slim my figure). They are expensive however every catalogue comes with a 15% coupon if you look carefully enough (typically the code can be found on the back). Sometimes, when times get hard I do take a few thousand out of my trust fund for ‘here and there’ expenses.

    I’m sorry I lied about my love for Greenday, their more recent work has a special place in my being. Yes, I love them ironically, but ironic love is blind.
    Truth is, I’ve held an ironic love for bad music for quite some time. I find myself humming to R. Kelly and ABBA regularly. My favorite song is Kiss From a Rose by Seal, you don’t know how many times I wanted to sing it to you at open mic night but never had the chance. This is something I’ve been holding inside for quite some time now.

    I fully accept that you don’t like Radiohead, (which is one word, by the way) honestly I don’t even like them. Sometimes I feel like Thom Yorke has very poor motor control and is knocking himself into fellow band members as they record. I actually started collecting vinyl in hopes that bands like Radiohead, Animal Collective, and Oasis would sound BETTER than their poor compact disc quality.
    Turns out my hopes were crushed, like waves against the cliffs of insanity.

    As for movies. I’m sorry you have poor taste and a short attention span, I used to consider crushing up adderall and slipping it into your Pepsi (OH the calories!) so I wouldn’t have to see you fidget in my peripherals or listen to your silly questions and/or comments on how ‘there is no plot’.
    I watched Tree of Life again the other day, and in some ways I found it to be an allegory of our failed relationship.
    You wouldn’t like it.
    You never liked the movies I suggested. Have you watched Dogtooth yet? The Greek film? I doubt it. If you haven’t, please do, it’s so so inspirational.

    Well, I’m running out of patience and my fingers are beginning to cramp, I spent all day learning House of the Rising Sun on my banjo so they were a little tired to begin with, I guess.
    A few closing thoughts:

    A. I don’t drink coffee anymore, I drink tea, it’s just so pure.
    B. I’ve stopped smoking tobacco altogether. These days I smoke a mix of mullein root and lavender. It really helps with my astral walkabouts in the dream state.
    C. My writing won an award at the Bosque Farms Fair with a cash prize of five dollars.
    D. I abstain from alcoholic beverages.
    E. John Keats IS God

    That is all. I wish you well in all future endeavors, fair winds, safe travels, and lovely weather.
    May fate bring us together again some day.

    Love always,
    Johnny Hipster

    P.S. If you don’t watch Battlestar Galactica it is SO GOOD. Ironically.


    • Um….. “These days I smoke a mix of mullein root and lavender. It really helps with my astral walkabouts in the dream state.”

      Johnny Hipster… I think i love you. Come over to my house up in Woodstock. Get out of the city, take a load off. Maybe hop the green bus. Leaves from Williamsburg i think, Friday afternoons you can probably barter some of the old scarves for gas $$.
      I am sprouting some smoking her s for my medicinal smoking garden. Still have some Mullein from last year’s crop. I like a little peppermint in my mix.

      I know blind dates are hardly worth the travel, but i promise i will make it worth your while. I just bought a new hand crank wheatgrass juicer. Please come.

      Gretchen Starbaby

      P.s. bring a couple of scarves, we can hike a mountain just to feel them. They do feel so much better blowing jn the mountain air vs avenue blocks.


  3. Pingback: Johnny Hipster Wrote Back « Peter Brown Hoffmeister

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