Dear Hipster, Why does August always seem like such a sad month? — Jules
Poor August. Notwithstanding the perpetual, residual back-to-school blues, August’s main crime is, and always has been, not being July. Among months, it’s sort of the middle child who lives at home till he’s 38. August is a lot like Pitch Perfect 2, which you could probably switch with Pitch Perfect and nobody would know the difference. Or, maybe, August is more like Radiohead’s Kid A, which is totally its own, superb thing but just can’t manage to follow OK Computer in most people’s eyes.
Or, maybe, August is like the last hipster in town to open a farm-to-table restaurant with an ampersand in the name and farm implements where the plates should be. Sure, it’s pleasant enough, but we can all sense the shortening days and it leaves us kind of bummed out when the check comes.
How about we cut August a little slack, eh? At least it isn’t September.
Dear Hipster, Why does August always seem like such a sad month? — Jules
Poor August. Notwithstanding the perpetual, residual back-to-school blues, August’s main crime is, and always has been, not being July. Among months, it’s sort of the middle child who lives at home till he’s 38. August is a lot like Pitch Perfect 2, which you could probably switch with Pitch Perfect and nobody would know the difference. Or, maybe, August is more like Radiohead’s Kid A, which is totally its own, superb thing but just can’t manage to follow OK Computer in most people’s eyes.
Or, maybe, August is like the last hipster in town to open a farm-to-table restaurant with an ampersand in the name and farm implements where the plates should be. Sure, it’s pleasant enough, but we can all sense the shortening days and it leaves us kind of bummed out when the check comes.
How about we cut August a little slack, eh? At least it isn’t September.
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