madventures in hipstersitting

On a cold windy evening early last week
i rushed home from work & primped! & preened!
and as my cab through city streets careened
i prepared for a night of aging hipster chic.

i was off to see Stereolab, those bastions of cool
(well, at least in 1995, they sure seemed to be)
So why was I there, you ask? what possessed me?
My friend’s band was opening, fool.

Yes, my buddy was in town with his folked up band
A character named Otto –a hippie extraordinaire
(I can almost picture flowers in his long flowing hair)
I heard "free tickets!" & out went my fat little hand.

And so I resigned myself to a fate I’d earlier predicted,
Trapped in a sea of middle-aged ass-shakers & teenage stoners
I avoided awkward conversations with all the other loners
And sighed as endless jazzy tunes upon me were inflicted.

Later - overheated and ready to throttle the crowd,
I let lethargy take over, and without waiting I fled
But as soon as I got home into my warm warm bed,
The phone started ringing, oh-so-horribly-loud.

Of course it was Otto, wondering why I’d disappeared
Blissfully unaware that it was well past midnight,
And though i was blissfully aware of my 9 to 5 plight,
i went - if only to tell him to shave off that beard.

And so I found myself late Tuesday night in a crappy bar
With many pints of Guinness & two musicians whom
Of course ended up crashed out in my living room,
Guess that's my little glimpse of the life of a kind-of rock star.

& though he might not yet be a full rockstar for a little while, props to the fact that he's already rocking the new york times style.