Wednesday, May 28, 2008

Bright Eyes Bright Lies

Hey what do you know, it's Hipster Boy again. I just got back from playing the Orange Circle (made $10) and Newport Beach (made $0.37) and I have a story from my good buddy Eliot. It is great!

“Remember the time you drove all night, just to meet me in the morning.”

Bright Eyes draped the walls in his thick velvet. His sorrowful chorus danced step to stair, seeping between our bodies, drying our sweat and ringing about the basement. It was beautiful. I pushed tears into my eyes so that she would see a glisten and ask me about it:

“Are you okay darling?”

Like a preteen on a yard long margarita I sucked them back in.

“I don’t care.”

We’d just fucked. I picked her in on my bike and her thrift-store threaded hips pounded into me the whole ride back to my place. It was dusk, and the world’s seedest were about to make their nightly rounds.

Alysin and I got back to my place and after giving my mom’s Murder-Back-Ribs the finger we slid into our own hovel downstairs. I pulled out my vinyls, she picked Bright Eyes and I put the other record away. Since I didn’t care, I smacked the needle into place and it landed squarely in the runoff groove. We listened to the rustle for several minutes.

After a few minutes of Side B (Side A is for faggots and posers), we started kissing, and she pressed her herself into my chest. Landing on my lap, she tried to straddle me, but her pants were too tight for her to spread her legs. I reached under her Urban Outfitters and grabbed at her un-bra’d breasts. She moaned in time with Oberst’s sporadic cries and was almost on beat. I kissed her neck and three days of salted sweat danced on my tongue, washing away the bitter taste of Mom’s expectations.

Finally we grabbed each other and threw ourselves on the couch, exploding in passion. In no more than twenty minutes I’d unsqueezed myself from my jeans and was ready to dive deep into her. Alysin pressed her flattened breasts against me, crying that she hadn’t been fucked like this since gradeschool.

“Is this good for you Jimothy?”

I didn’t care.

“I don’t care.”

Her Ray Bans fogged and she pressed her forehead into my sweatband, three weeks of stubble and she said she almost felt something. On the floor our color-striped shirts threaded the rug, they were 40% Cotton, 60% Polyester and 100% Retro. She pulled my shirt back so the neckline rose to my bellybutton, showing the hair I planned on growing on my stomach.

Finally I was in her, pulling myself in and out slowly to chords that were being played on a guitar by Bright Eyes while he sang. I narrated to her my actions, explaining that I thought her insides were cool beans. Through my Kanye Shades shades I saw horizontal stripes of her messy blonde hair. Above her sat this month’s pack of cigarettes and a lighter shaped like a Smurf.

I tried not to pay attention to her while we fucked, because frankly, I didn’t care. To make her feel good though, I would whimper every once in a while. We carried through, quietly fucking until my parent’s knocked on the door and said that my Aunt had sent me a hundred dollars for my twenty-second birthday. Mom never leaves me alone.

Finally we finished having all the sex and I lay on top of her, our naked bodies beautiful in the One’s eyes. She ruffled my hair and when she got her hand unstuck put it against my back.

“Jimothy, I have a lot of feelings for you.”

“I know Alysin. Me too.”

She was quiet.

I rolled off her and reorganized my vinyls (Bright Eyes was after Death Cab). I must have misplaced them in my passion. Oh well. I don’t care.

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

A story I didn't write

Hello, Hipster Boy here with a story written by my friend Sam. I am so proud of her right now.

I invited him into my basement. I wanted to look sexy, not that I would ever admit it. The place was a mess. My beaten up couch was engulfed in my supa tight jeans, shift dresses, and oversized scarves. My vinyls had been flung all across the dirty shag rug. My Velvet Underground wept at my carelessness. I threw all of the clothes into a corner, emptying a space in which I hoped to do the deed. I whispered sweet nothings to my music as I pushed them into the corner as well. I looked in the mirror. My look was effortless. And by effortless I mean I spent two hours making my hair look like it had just been hit by a weed-wacker. My fried locks had been dyed so many times that they frizzed out into place quite nicely. I was wearing a short, shapeless purple dress that hung on my body like a sac. The words “easy access” kept flashing through my brain. I ringed my eyes with some more black eyeliner. I thought it really contrasted well with my pasty complexion. I kicked off my heels. At 5’11,” I figured I was already awkwardly tall. The tap-tap of footsteps coming down the stairs made me turn. There he was, the boy that I loved. He was wearing tight red pants, so tight I swear that his junk must be all smashed up in his crotch. His legs were thin, perhaps thinner than mine. But he had gargantuan feet. God, he is sexy. His hair looks like he left it in a headband all day. He smiled nervously and walked across the room. He pushed his bony frame up against my body and kissed me. I ran my hand along the ribs of his back. He moved his hand up to the place where my boobs would be if I had any. His hands were so cold that I jumped back for a second, but then moved in again. I thought I could feel him getting hard, but with his tight jeans on, I couldn’t tell. I began to tug them off, with intense effort. He was paler than I could have ever imagined. He came down on top of me. He was quick, like a gerbil. God, his hips are sharp. Eff. Ow. Owwww. Frick this hurts. He made a face like frightened school girl and squealed a bit. Well. At least it ended quick. He turns red. I look deep into his eyes and said “I think I like women.”

Monday, May 26, 2008

Cheap Monday

“They were pretty good, weren’t they?” Anna asked, nearly out of breath.
“Yeah. I never thought I’d like Sunset Rubdown more than Wolf Parade,” answered Jason, who was just as out of breath as his new girlfriend was.

Glowing in post-show sweat and under the influence of PBR, they both walked clumsily back to Jason’s prized 1980’s Benz. They both knew what they wanted and knew what they would be getting tonight.

After comfortably settling down in the car, they both sat there for a moment, listening to Chromeo and unsure of what to say or do next. After all, it had only been a few weeks.

“So…” Jason started.
“Yeah?” Anna answered.
“I really like Chromeo. They’re funny, like you,” he replied.
Anna smiled.
“That’s really cute,” she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
“You look really fucking beautiful tonight,” he whispered into her ear.
She giggled.
“And are you gonna do something about that?”
“Are you?” he asked.
She slid her hand down his deep-v.

After that moment, they quickly jumped into the backseat. The temperature in the car, breathing, and moods grew hotter at every passing moment. Jason found himself kissing Anna’s tender, young body in places that never saw the light of day. She moaned with every touch she received, his goatee tickling her.

Anna made a reach for Jason’s belt buckle. She quickly slid his belt off and started to remove his beloved Cheap Monday jeans.

“Are you hard?” she whispered to him seductively.
He moaned. She took that as a yes.

Anna moved her hands to the waistband of his jeans. Their hands met as they both tugged on his jeans to remove them. But they wouldn’t budge.

“Are your jeans too ti-“ she started.
Jason re-adjusted his black-framed glasses and stammered something incomprehensible.
There was a moment of silence.

“Do you just wanna go down on me baby?” she asked.

-Hipster Girl


Hello. I'm Hipster Boy. Here's the story of an encounter that happened to me pretty recently.

My boy Dan drove me over to this house around Culver City last Saturday after a quick Amoeba run, (Wowee Zowee vinyl for $10? Fuck yeah.) tellin’ me about this girl that lived there with a guy that “I would just fucking love.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I told him. My mind wasn’t on the chick but on a fresh fag (cigarette, for the uninformed) and my latest treasure.

We pulled up to a shitty little apartment around 3 and Dan let himself in like he owned the place. The scent of Menthols and homemade pizza with veggie chicken on it drew me in, and before I knew it I was on a couch with Dan and some other guy who had just booked his band a show at Whiskey named Jason.

The living room floor was covered with torn carpet and a few fliers for APW as Dan took one of my fags and Jason nabbed a torrent of “Narrow Stairs” on his Macbook.

“Where’s the fucking chick?” I asked Dan after a few minutes of vinyl inspection.

“In the shower, relax.”

At that moment, the bathroom door opened down the hall. I took a quick glance over with Tigermilk between my fingers and out came a pasty figure with a towel around its body.

“That her?” I nudged Dan.

He watched with me as the figure strolled to a bedroom and slammed the door behind it.

“I think so.”

I sat back with newfound anticipation and anxiety, running fingers through my hair and shaking my head around to make sure I looked good. Aside from a pizza stain on my Free Kitten shirt I had made on CafePress, I looked alright.

Within a few minutes the figure had emerged from the room and walked into the living room.

“Karen,” Dan whispered to me.

What a woman Karen was.

She stood before me like a goddess floating down from the heavens, with dark red hair that rested on her bare shoulders. Her skin was terrifically pale and was complimented by the dark Crystal Castles shirt that barely reached the PE shorts she wore, presenting her smooth thighs to me. She looked like Casper about to run the mile, except beautiful.

“Hey,” she said with a pizza slice in hand.

“Oh, uh…hey,” I muttered.

“Impressive collection Jason’s got, yeah?”

I looked down at Tigermilk again and back at her.

“Oh yeah, it’s pretty good. Great shit in here.”

“Mine’s better. Wanna see?” She dropped the slice and gave me a smile.

“Yeah! Yeah, for sure.”

She started towards the hall and I gave Dan a quick glance before I got up and followed after her. He mouthed “FUCK HER” to me.

I couldn’t resist eyeing her body as she moved carelessly in front of me. She was built like a sexy rectangle, almost mimicking my walk exactly.

We made our way into her room, the menthol scent suddenly becoming stronger as she took a seat on the futon, motioning for me to sit next to her. I sank in and sighed nervously as she pulled out an old crate from behind the futon, resting it on my lap. I cringed in pain as my already suffocated balls took a hit, but played it off as a cough.

Her collection was good. It wasn’t anything like mine, but she had the usual shit and then some. I was mildly impressed until she stood and reached behind a cabinet.

“This,” she whispered with her back turned, “is my most prized possession. I stole it from a guy I dated when I was 15 after one of his roommates had drawn dicks on his passed out body.”

She turned around slowly and held a diamond in her hands, and by diamond, I mean a sealed vinyl of “Slanted and Enchanted.”

I took a sharp breath and stood up without thinking, walking closer and holding hands at my side.

“O…Original issue?” I managed to say.

“Original fucking issue.”

I said nothing and stared at the beauty of it, eventually moving my eyes to hers, which had already been on me.

The silence continued as I took a heavy breath, feeling my dick attempting to harden under my jeans without success.

She made the first move and jumped towards me, placing a rough kiss on my lips as she pushed me back onto the futon, vinyl still in hand.

Her breath was pizza-y and so was mine, and the shirt that once covered her middle school chest had suddenly disappeared. Her hand reached down and grabbed my crotch roughly, causing me to let out a squeal as she unzipped my jeans quickly and yanked them down past my hips after a couple of minutes of struggling.

“How bad do you want me?” she sexily muttered, bringing down her PE shorts and Organic Baby Rib Thong.

“I’ve wanted you so bad from the second I saw how pale you were,” I managed to get out between kissing her bony neckline.

She smirked and straddled me with the force of an intense fucking moshpit, gently setting down the vinyl to the side as we started to fuck like the both of us never had before. Her hair whipped me in the face as she tossed around in ecstasy, my own hair falling in my face and requiring a couple quick whips of my own to see the sexy expressions she made. She pressed her chest against mine and smiled through a loud moan as our bodies created a perfectly flat surface, my hands roaming around her sharp and bony waist. I lasted the length of “Chesley's Little Wrists” and fell back onto the futon, bringing her with me. Our sticky, sweaty bodies breathed heavily against each others as she kissed my lips again, slowly and gently. We both smiled at each other as Jason’s torrent had apparently finished, the first track off of “Narrow Stairs” pouring from the Macbook’s tinny speakers.

It wasn’t very good, just like I had expected.