not me

The Lonely Seagull is, by nature, skeptical, especially of broad, negative generalizations focused narrowly on easy--though possibly deserving--targets. So, though something deeply felt clicked in recognition and sympathy while reading an article called "Hipster: The Dead End of Western Civilization" by Douglas Haddow in the current issue of Adbusters, it might be best appreciated in the spirit of intriguing writing hidden in a scathing polemic. The concluding paragraph--which is a good condensation of the whole article--especially calls for this sort of critical appreciation:

We are a lost generation, desperately clinging to anything that feels real, but too afraid to become it ourselves. We are a defeated generation, resigned to the hypocrisy of those before us, who once sang songs of rebellion and now sell them back to us. We are the last generation, a culmination of all previous things, destroyed by the vapidity that surrounds us. The hipster represents the end of Western civilization – a culture so detached and disconnected that it has stopped giving birth to anything new.

The stark choice between hedonism and revolution seems like an especially strained argument. The Lost Generation (of Hemingway, et al) probably looked just as apathetic and materialistic to ambivalent observer-participants in its own time. But neither an unhealthy taste for whiskey nor an excessive affection for fixed-gear bicycles and fake eyeglasses preclude an interest in political action. The fallacious notion that one must choose between a complete devotion to a total anti-materialist revolution or suffer in an apathetic purgatory, prey to savvy marketers does a disservice to more realistic hopes for practical change. Since at least the 1930's, critics have been sounding the same alarm. The hipster might represent some of the more lamentable aspects of late capitalism but, unless it is understood as a progress toward the perfection of irony and the ubiquitous sporting of American Apparel clothing*, the hipster does not represent the "end" of Western Civilization.

*As he writes this, the author is wearing two pieces of American Apparel clothing, a fact that brings to mind Louis Althusser, who worried about the same thing in a different way:

In this preliminary remark and these concrete illustrations, I only wish to point out that you and I are always already subjects, and as such constantly practice the rituals of ideological recognition, which guarantee for us that we are indeed concrete, individual, distinguishable and (naturally) irreplaceable subjects. The writing I am currently executing and the reading you are currently performing are also in this respect rituals of ideological recognition, including the ‘obviousness’ with which the ‘truth’ or ‘error’ of my reflections may impose itself on you.

Timelessness

(from the owls go)


(from vieilles_annonces')


(from whatatiger)


(from the library of congress)


(from vieilles_annonces')


Style. What's it all about? Always changing hither and nither, blowing in the wind, like a delicate particle from a plant; it's hard to keep up with. Am I right?

What should I wear today? Will this look cool? Will people make fun of my "cover?" These are things the Lonely Seagull is occasionally concerned (not obsessed--we're not vain!) with.

The other weekend, an older, distinguished gentleman came up to our booth at the SF Zine Fest. We knew he was distinguished because of his fine coat and scarf, and the twinkle in his eye. Like most people, he started rubbing his grubby mitts all over us (in the form of the magazine). Fortunately, his hands were not as grubby as most people's and his search, instead of saying, "I'm uncomfortable standing in front of this table, so I'm going to mangle this object," seemed to say "what is this? I want to know. I search for understanding." The kindly man turned the magazine over a few times and read some of the contents within. That was nice of him (seriously, we are always glad and surprised when people attempt to read us--we're not sure we would!) Then he said, "it's very simple." "Yes," we said. Simple is what we are going for. "It looks old-fashioned," he said, "it's timeless." "Oh (wow!), thanks!" we said. Then he rubbed his thick, sailor-like hands on the cover one more time, "it feels like sand." And with that, he walked away.

What inspires the Lonely Seagull style? The above pics are a few things we find sandy.