Preppy is the New Hipster

This thought swept over me on Sunday when I was visiting one of my favorite places to think freely in town, the Hirshorn. It was a good visit. I was hungover and feeling pensive, and the museum was mostly empty and the new installation isn’t up yet, so I felt no pressure to be in the know. The visit was nice, I let myself misbehave I visited the museum shop first, visited what surely is my favorite public bathroom in town. I made commitment to myself to make my visit to the museum a modern performance piece in itself. I danced a little while no one was looking, I struck a pose in front of my favorite Mondrian. I embraced the complexity between organic structures and chemical structures, which in fact are one in the same. I made someone fall in love with me, by pretending to be interesting. One of the best parts was sitting in an open room with a large window looking out onto lots of federal looking buildings. I made fart noises with my mouth, and watched people walk through a piece sitting in plain sight. It was a fun hour. Ultimately I did come to a depressing conclusion, I am an impressionist painting trapped with an overwhelming longing to be a neoplastic.