Airreck Intuition

So something that has bothered me quite a bit as of late is the blind usage of the term hipster. Or maybe more accurately, its true lack of a definition.

Now I’m no angel. I’ve thrown the term around myself. I’m usually one of the first people to call my dear friend Beth a hipster, probably more for the reaction she will give. But do I believe she is one? Hardly. From the picture above, I’ve been called a hipster or slightly less insulting as having “hipster glasses”. Do I consider myself a hipster? Hardly, but lets examine what it is that makes someone a hipster.

The definitions on Urban Dictionary and Wikipedia are both pretty similar, so I’ll just post Urban’s:

“Hipsters are a subculture of men and women typically in their 20’s and 30’s that value independent thinking, counter-culture, progressive politics, an appreciation of art and indie-rock, creativity, intelligence, and witty banter.”

Outside of maybe progressive politics (why so many fiscal republican friends Eric?) this describes about 98% of my homies and homegirls. Now here is a snippet from a Huffington Post article written by Julia Plevin that is probably closer to what most people think of as hipsters:

“[The] whole point of hipsters is that they avoid labels and being labeled. However, they all dress the same and act the same and conform in their non-conformity to an iconic carefully created sloppy vintage look.”

Now that’s more like it. The only ones really worth calling hipsters are the ones who proclaim it for themselves. She also points out that:

“[The] definition of ‘hipster’ remains opaque to anyone outside this self-proclaiming, highly-selective circle.”

So basically it’s to be defined by those on the inside. They typically remain undefined by definition, if that makes sense. Or the flipside is that people will evolve a never-ending list of things they can attribute to hipster culture. Is it for funsies or contempt? I tend to not mind the former, jest is jest in my book. It’s when it happens with the latter that can be annoying. Here are some generalizations I’ve noticed more often:

1.     PBR drinking

2.     Horned Rimmed Glasses

3.     Flannel

4.     Shirts with Catchphrases

5.     Shirts with Old Pop Culture

6.     Vintage Clothing

7.     Record Collections

8.     Mustaches or Unkempt Beards

9.     Bike Transportation

10. Converse

11. Ironic Detachment

To those keeping score at home, I believe I registered 8 to 9 of these things. Though I don’t know that any of my friends would seriously label me a hipster. But you combine that with the fact that I value intelligence, like foreign and independent films, and like Beirut.

I must be a hipster.

Well then, as my next order of business, I will add to the list of things that I like, to help you expand the definition.

1.     Improvisational Theater

2.     The movie Gigli

3.     All Replying to Emails

4.     Twitter

5.     Solitaire (Free Cell or Klondike)

6.     Fruit Snacks (looking at you gushers)

7.     Metro Transit

8.     Modern Family

9.     Water

10. Laughing Pictures

11. Swearing

If you liked any of these things, guess what? You’re a Hipster too. If you actually enjoyed the movie Gigli (like I did and can explain why if I need to) you could be King of the Hipsters. Wait no, Hipsters need leaders name that is less mainstream. The ArchHispter or Fonzie of the Hipster Nation, maybe?

I guess that I just think it’s a silly thing to stereotype or to want or not want to be a part of. Everyone has his or her likes and dislikes. Far be it from me, or you, to decide what makes or breaks hipsterdom. This all said I’ve never been to Williamsburg. So maybe I’m the asshole for writing this when I’m going to have to recant the whole thing later when my Richard M. Nixon fears of the unknown come crashing back at me. Until then, I’m just going to sit here in my horn-rimmed glasses, with my vintage UNC jersey (Ed Cota baby), crack open a tall boy and post this to Tumblr.

Hail Hipsters!

written by airreck

Nature’s growth hormone.

Baptism of the senses

Spring activator.

Level 1 power washer

God’s spit valve.

Sleepytime motivator

Sleep motivator

Natural harmony

Mobile percussionist

Sky’s leaky faucet

Upside down sprinkler party

Homeless shower

Tree ruffler

Leak indicator

Last on a bucket’s bucket list

Shoe moistener

Puddle maker

Flower vitamins

Festival Slayer

Hair Salon Heckler

Heat relief

Sun’s occasional special guest

Grass moisturizer

Pre-dew

Picnic assassin

So there are a great many things in this world that make me happy. The pulsating of live music. A sunny yet crisp autumn day. Inducing my own sneezing (I never said some of them wouldn’t be weird).

But one of the top three to five things I enjoy, is making my mother laugh. More specifically, making my mom cry from laughing too hard.

Now, it’s not always a simple as just telling a joke. You see, my mom “hates” comedy. While this statement isn’t meant to be taken at face value, it’s something she helps perpetuate herself. After I’d get home from class in junior high, I wanted to watch The Simpsons (this was when they were still in the tail end of their solid first decade). I would always get my way, but she would always put up a fight about watching a show that is so “silly,” when we could watch something staring Meredith Baxter Birney.  She would always watch with me, commenting on why something is funny versus actually laughing (a huge pet peeve of mine, probably the origin). Mind you, my mom’s favorite movie is the Blues Brothers. So like I said, she doesn’t “hate” comedy. Though I think the music in Blues Brothers coupled with an shared understanding of Elwood and Jake’s plight with the Penguin, might have something to do with this being her favorite flick.

So growing up, I think I found it a challenge to get my mom to admit something was funny, but not her admitting it was funny with words. Nope, my mom would reveal it through uncontrollable vocal spasms or laughing as normal people just do.

So to my delight, as I walked through the curtains at Huge Theater last Thursday for my Theater of Public Policy show I spotted my mom and dad a few rows back. I greeted her with a :-P (yes that is an emoticon, but there didn’t seem to be a way of describing my standard hello to my mother, that didn’t come off as a bit Oedipal and creepy). I think I can count on two hands the number of times I’ve gotten my mom to start crying based on something I’ve said or acted out. Of those times two or three (including last Thursday) I didn’t get to witness it, but was informed of it happening later, in this case from my mom. The best part is her getting “mad” at me for making it happen, like I’m some sort of maniacal comedian. But instead of trying to take over the world, I just want to make Yvonne laugh. I’m just Sam L at the end of Unbreakable, screaming, “They called me Mr. Glass.” I guess if that my destiny, so be it. I’ll relish every chance I get to make my mama laugh, be it from my wit, or just me being a dumbass. I think she’s proud just the same.

written by airreck

Like Aladdin whippin’ around on his magic carpet, I’m in a whole new world (or does that make me Jasmine?). I just finished school, I’m performing improv pretty regularly, and I have a new task of how and where to find work. What’s nice about trying to find work now versus five-odd years ago is that I care about what I’m trying to do now. I mean part of me find business interesting, but I don’t think I was going to Excel at spreadsheets and cubicles (sorry so punny). So copywriting allows me to be analytical and creative. Double threat, dynamic, and most importantly, I don’t have to wear a monkey suit. Not my style, which isn’t to say I’m brimming with style, but a tie and dress pants make me uncomfortable. Those who know me, know not much can make me feel uncomfortable (I’m don’t care if I look cute Mom, I ain’t wearing it!). Sorry, flashback to when my mom used to dress me. She kept me looking pretty fly, I’ll admit, but I don’t think I can pull off the yellow denim anymore.

So let the networking begin. I’ve been steadily doing it for a while, and finally have the time to really schmooze with the best of them. Or at least anyone who will sit down for coffee. Expanding my search, too. Chi-town? Big Apple? The Austin City Limits? Who knows, but for the first time in a long, long time (note: Ten year High School reunion this fall, for real?) I’ve got direction and baring an economic slide (not a dance… yet) I’ve got some room to breathe and explore. Huzzah!

Wait, I’ve loans to pay now….

Damn you debt!!!!!

scribbled by airreck

I was honored to be asked to write a guest blog post for In Commons recently on why I perform. You can read the post as it reads on there site here: 

Why I Perform: A short essay by Eric Simons

Otherwise I am posting it here too, which seems redundant, but I just thought it was cool someone wanted me to post something on their site. So there is proof, I am wanted. I can rest easy now. 

Why I perform

Hello, my name is Eric Christopher Simons. You probably don’t recognize me as a performer from such famed improv troupes as Vicious Delicious, Meat & Cheese, The Marcus Garvey Experience, or most recently (and relatively) The Theater of Public Policy. I say you don’t recognize me because there is so much great theater to see in Minneapolis/ Saint Paul on any given day of the week, it can be easy to miss some of the smaller shows that pop up (2^nd most theater seats per capita behind New York City). And in some of the smaller venues (i.e. Huge Theater). And there are often misconceptions about improv that keep people from checking it out (it is not stand up comedy).

But that’s ok. Don’t get me wrong, I love to get in front of a huge audience and make at least one person if not everyone, laugh, think, or chuckle while pondering deeply. But really my reasons for performing are quite selfish. I like to challenge myself mentally and physically. I like to make connections with people in the microseconds between completely made up dialogue. I love to keep a straight face in the wind of the most ridiculous situation I have ever witnessed. I like to break character when someone says something too low brow for anyone’s own good. I just love improving.

I’m not of a theater background if that helps add any relevance. A theater friend of mine convinced me to try out for an improv troupe back in college and that was that. It was love. 8 years later here I am. I still find it weird when someone calls me an actor. What I do is go on stage and play with my friends. The fact that you are there eavesdropping on my playtime is cool, but if you weren’t there I’d still be acting like an idiot. Or a pirate with a fish for a peg leg. Or an Alien who is allergic to truffles. Or possibly Barack Obama checking tweets from a couple of gay teens from Anoka.

So yeah, that last example was more aptly detailed. That’s because it happened a few weeks ago at The Theater of Public Policy. With this show we interview an expert in a particular field on a hot button issue, then we satirize it through improv. Again, selfish Eric found a show where he gets to play. And selfish Eric found a show that forces him to keep up with social issues that are going on from Minneapolis to the Washington DC to Spokane. It makes selfish Eric feel relevant, or at least have a relevant opinion.

Really it makes sense to have a show like T2P2 bring these issues to the forefront of the community. We do it in a way that keeps it from getting too heavy but still encourages dialogue. I love having a beer after the show and talking about the issues. It’s like a town hall in old Philly, but with less wigs and a cleaner tap system.

Ok, so maybe I lied a bit when I said I don’t care if people show up. I want to discuss these issues with as many people as possible. It’s important to hear all the sides and all the opinions. It’s important for us to keep a healthy dialogue, for we are the future (cue Whitney Houston, RIP) of this great, imperfect country.

So when it comes to both performing and keeping a dialogue on some of these divisive issues, it’s both challenging and difficult. But believe me, its well worth it. 

So to those who know me, know my general annoyance with V-Day. They might say its cause I’m cheap or unromantic. The latter is certainly not true (hopelessly so) and the former is rooted in being remarkably broke for the last ten years. But my solution to both has always been my creativity. When I cared about a lady very much, I could find ways to celebrate them. I just don’t want to be told when to do it. But I’m starting to retread rants of yesteryear. Let’s start fresh. 

What I got to thinking about on the bus today was, “Why do you detest this manufactured commercial holiday more than other commercially manufactured?”

I love Christmas though it doesn’t have the same aura that it did as a child. Anxious to see what Santa brought me, I would stay up until 4am in the morning. Around then I would basically passout until around 5:30. Then I would sit awake, waiting until 6am struck and I could wake up my big sister. The toys and games were great, but as I’ve gotten older I’ve realized that it is the family part that really mattered. My mom and dad helping me put together stuff, giggling with my sis, getting to see my grandparents at noon. My family and I still do some gifts, but honestly I don’t care that much about that anymore (though my record player this year was inspired). Christmas Eve though, that’s when we would topically frost cookies (does that work as a double entendre?) then have some drinks and laughs, that’s what matters to me now.

Basically, I want Valentine’s Day to be more like that. Or more like Thanksgiving. Where we ignore the history behind why something is significant and just know it is. Where we spend time with those close to us, drink a bit too much and gorge on stuffed animal meats. “But, that sounds a lot like Valentine’s Day.” Kind of, but really it feels like a time where people get looked down upon for not buying stuff to show love. Do something. Don’t wait until the 14^th. Be with the ones you love, doesn’t have to be romantic. Save the romance for April 3^rd, August 12^th and October 7^th, when no one is looking.

My favorite valentine’s ever I shared with my then girlfriend a few years back. It involved going to a museum and then hitting up the CC Club with several of our best friends. It was a fun day that could exist on any day, so fuck worrying about it being the 14^th, it was just important being there with those that I’m close with.

Remember the feeling, not the date.

Happy Spring Thanksgiving

sporadic thoughts by airreck

Today’s mistakes fade 

 
Tomorrow’s Hope Engulfs Us 

Laughter Rises Forth

I’ve never been much of a coffee drinker. 

Basically, I’ve never had coffee until I accidentally ordered a cappuccino in Cinque Terre, Italy 3 years ago. Basically when you order a pastry at a nice little cafe in the morning, don’t panic if they ask you a follow up Italian speak question, or you’ll spend more Euros then planned. The drink was all right; I just never took to drinking coffee again after. 

Cue 3 years later. As a burgeoning copywriter, I have found that doing work in the confines of my home is pointless. There is always something else to do. Facebook, make a sandwich, look at this pinterest everyone is freaking out about, surf adult cinema, and the Netflix all vie for my attention. The problem is I’m always one to oblige them, I mean they have always been quite nice to me. 

I’m assuming I will get weird looks if I fire up an episode of Battlestar Galactica at Common Roots. Or If I’m Huluing 30 Rock while sitting inside the Urban Bean. Dunn Bros is no place for Sasha Grey. So I have embarked on doing my work at coffee shops.

I very much enjoy a good tea. Iced or hot, I’m not picky. But a month or so ago, I thought, “Ehh, just try some coffee.” 

“Well if you insist self, sure.”

I’ve been partial to the cappuccinos and americanos, though not as big a fan of straight up espresso. Regular drip roasted is nice, maybe with a little skim milk, you know, for my figure’s sake. But this is all moot, because the real issue at hand is finding the right confines for me to be productive. 

My favorite spot used to be Spyhouse on Hennipen, but a lack of Internet consistency has driven me away. I like the location of Common Roots, but sometimes it’s too packed to finds a decent seat. What about Uncommon Grounds you say? Nothing about that place impressed me. Could they have more awkward chairs and booths? How about somewhere to plug in my power cord? I boo that place. Beat Coffeehouse is nice in the summer; you can sit at a table outside. But in the winter, their seating inside isn’t remarkably comfy. Checked out Plan B, seating is ok. The food was quite good though, so they will receive a second visit. Bob’s Java seems too hardcore for me, like I could be abducted via motorcycle. I’ve been partial to Jackson’s lately. They have gelato. Bonus points. 

So my look for a proper place to grab a drink, a bite, and/or do some schoolwork forges on. I just want to be comfortable, but not too comfortable that I want to nap to the music of Boards of Canada. I just want a short walk, a nice chair, a good Wi-Fi connection, and a cute hipster making my macchiato. Too much to ask?


shared by airreck