Tumblr blogs aren't for even hipsters - they're just for kids. Teenagers. They're about the beauty of architecture they haven't learned yet they'll never be able to afford to visit, much less live in; sleekly designed consumer products they haven't realized they mostly won't be able to afford either, and whose manufacture poisons people in far away places; and young, perfect bodies that they haven't learned they will one day cease to inhabit.
It's all candy bars and polished white resin, limbs and faces perfect like porcelain dolls and I'm sick of it, I'm sick of looking at that and then turning my attention back to my rumpled, old, battered, secondhand furniture and obsolete gizmos and my very own sagging
corpus.
Then after about ten seconds of decompression I remember I don't want to live in a world of white walls, chromed plastic and bleached pine. My life and my world has paint on the walls and books on the shelves and moles on the skin and that's how it is.