Decisions to decisions are made and not fought and I thought this wouldn't hurt a lot; I guess not

Brittney, my dear follower, has asked me to post to my blog again, so here goes.

This is a blog of my hipster encounters, so today must be discounted; it has been less than hipster in content, form, and style, for it has been full of lazy clothes, lots of sleep, a teeny bit of reading, and, of course, nicotine.  

Yet, I have not left my hipster course! Fear not! Only but two days ago was I atop the Vulcan in Birmingham - a spot left not only for the hipsters, but definitely one that could be considered hipster in nature, considering it's subject - with the girl of my present dreams - not literally, though, because another girl inhabits most of my sleepy nights - dressed in a full hipster getup - Chucks and skinny jeans, black shirt and contrasting shrug, scarf and bracelet; I will not let my advocates down! Leah, the aforementioned rapturing girl, kept commenting on my hipster-tude, and I, in true hipster fashion, as I later realized, denied her accusations with full force. I fear that only hipster deny indictment so ruthlessly.  (Can you be ruthful? And doesn't "ruthful" ring true of being ruthless?)

It appears that I have not lost my touch in blog post construction. The style of my language has not faltered over the past several months, as I afeared it would. Thank goodness.

I suppose now is time for the picture that I dare take with every entry; this picture is less than hipster, I must admit. (I'm wearing

Abercrombie, but, in my defense, it is an ex-girlfriend's shirt.)