The Massage

Nothing sexier than a hipster massage, or maybe there is


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Scene: Clemmy goes to Jude’s apartment to give him a massage. He is still floating in his Xanax dream when she arrives. She is wearing a robe to hide the clothes underneath so it will be a surprise.

Clemmy walked in to Jude’s apartment and he greeted her with a languid, sloppy hug.

“Wow, those pills really seem to be working. Now take your shirt off, lay on the coffee table because I’m about to blow your mind,” she said.

From her gingham bag, Clemmy pulled out four patchouli candles, patchouli massage oil and her cassette player. With Jude laying face down on the coffee table she lit the candles, dropped her robe to the ground and pushed “play” on the cassette.

Thelonious Monk live in Paris 1967 filled the air as she dimmed the lights.

She dripped the patchouli massage oil on the middle of Jude’s…

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the good life

“I’m looking in… on the good life I might be… doomed never to find.” new slang by the shins

Each time I listen to that song that one line resonates deeply for me.  I think we’ve all been at a point in our lives when we’ve been looking for some place where we’d rather be.

Our current circumstances may seem so unbearable, so intolerable that we wander down the street looking for that better life.  We peer through the window of the family with the seemingly perfect life.  The family with the big car, the bright diamonds, the Rolex and the glaring smiles.

Then hopefully you realize what a crock of shit that is.  That smiling family is usually more fucked up than you.  The husband gave the wife herpes.  The Rolex is fake.  They are still paying for the diamond at 25% interest and they sleep in different rooms.

Perspective is an incredible concept to understand.  I’m 40 now and it took me a damn long time to figure out the beauty of perspective.

All those wasted years I spent looking for that good life almost doomed me.  Almost.

Dear Mr. Xanax (jude relaxes)

A hipster takes Xanax


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Dear Mr. Xanax,

Thank you so much for finally making your way into my bloodstream. I never realized the depth of your powers until now.

As you know, I am a hipster and I deal with hipster racism every day which causes me a ton of stress.  But I’ve always been too scared of doctors.

Needles scare me. Blood tests scare me. A doctor’s old, frigid hand checking me for a hernia scares me. But, I did it anyway. After all these years, I did it. I made the appointment and put on the gown. After the whole billy emo situation, I had to.

I sat on the sterile, paper covered table and spoke freely about my symptoms. I let it all out. The mean note, the infiltration of billy emo, finding out about Clemmy dating billy emo, the emo posters at Randall’s,

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tired (a poem)

220px-Street_gutter_in_Old_Town_Stockholmtired of the rhyming bull-shit, flowery, gentle hugs

of today’s poetry

tired of sunshine beams, rainbows with comfortable temps.

i want smelly hooker, dark alley cum-stained fingers

feeling up the innocents, making mouths gape, screaming for help and

thrown into the stank puddles reflecting the gutters of real life.

tired of feel good dreams, idealistic dreams, dreams that only enlighten 1%.

i want the dejected, the forgotten, the pushed aside, the foreheads with spit dripping down into an eye that’s been forced shut for too long.

i want welfare, bad cheese, half smoked cigs, Boones farm cheap-ass wine, i want 40 ounces of beer that smells like homeless ass

that makes the bowels remember who is on the bottom rung.

i want real pain, i want real emotion, i want a real experience from someone on this fucking planet.

tired of all the happy shit,

it’s ok not to smile.

all cats are probably gay

catprancing down the street, with a constant look of “I’m better than you bitch.”                              

laying on the grass in the front yard, deliberately flipping their tails back and forth inviting you to pet their stomach,                                      

then as you oblige, they scratch you like a mad queen who was just told he was “chunky”                           

they flutter past you, deliberately brushing your leg for attention with their tail high in the air exposing their asshole, an asshole that looks like a banana that’s been split in half                   

I’ve yet to see a cat who appeared masculine in any way, nor have I ever heard a cat meow in a deep voice like the Allstate guy                                                                    (I’m fairly certain that All Cats (Domestic) Are Probably Gay)

dear diary, more Clemmy confessions

hipster confessions


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Dear Diary,

Well, things have been a bit of a mess lately. My ex, Billy Emo, has continued to torment Jude and I feel so horribly guilty for it. Jude’s plan backfired and he ended up buzzing part of his beard off.

I loved his beard, probably more than anything else about him. Being the totally amazing hipster that he is, he was able to shave it and leave a killer mustache.  But, I really miss the beard.

Now he’s been suspended from Randall’s for a week by that manager bitch Cindy. Apparently they have security cameras that recorded everything.  That has to be against Jude’s constitutional rights or something.

It seemed like just the other day when our hands met together on the Public Enemy tape. Oh how I wish I could rewind and just tell him about Billy Emo when we first met. I just…

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Jude meets with Cindy (the new tattoo)

Billy F***ing Emo is taking over, poor Hipster Jude


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Scene: After the Billy Emo hair buzzing incident at Randall’s, Jude’s manager Cindy texted him to come in for a meeting ASAP.

Cindy- I called you in today because of the “event” that took place the other night.

Jude (acting bewildered) What “event” are you speaking about?

Cindy (getting angry)- Are you kidding me Jude??? I watched the video surveillance footage from that night and you know what I saw?

Jude (getting nervous) Um, we have cameras at Randall’s???

Cindy- I watched you pick out a black hoodie from our lost and found bin, put it on and go into the bathroom. Then I watched you walk out of the bathroom, hide in a dark corner by the stage and attack Billy Emo.

I watched your dumb ass get caught in that extension cord and watched you fall flat on your face. There is even…

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