“…that place, that’s like, over by those big letters?”
“Yes.”
“That’s like, the main ice cream hang out for hipsters. Not like, all the hipsters, but the real ones.”
“I wish you wouldn’t use that word all the time.”
“Gary.”
“Neither of us use that word.”
“It’s his terminology, he’s using it to find his language. The way he speaks.”
“I don’t need to say it, Dad. I do it to come across as… not like, arrogant.”
“You said it again.”
“I said it differently. I said, ‘not like,’ as in this is not like this.”
“This painter is no Picasso. The New York Times isn’t the New York Post. Your Mom’s not your Dad.”
“Gary.”
At this point the ‘Don’t Walk’ sign turned into a white person and I waited just a second longer, till I could feel their eyes fall on me, then quickly crossed street.
Tags: christmas, confrontation, conversation, conversations in cafe's, Dad, hipsters, overheard voices, son, time out
December 25, 2008 at 8:27 pm
Many greets from germany, so i can say you have a very nice page.
December 29, 2008 at 7:15 pm
Guess whose back. Back again. Marlon’s back. Tell a friend.
years have misplayed days. you have a boy child. i want a dog. a boxer. my girlfriend has a cat, so i have allergies.
why are you still always scratching yourself?
is that to much for a public comment?
you are still inspired… help me get back there.
marlon