Post One Hundred and Thirty Two: Beauty - The Mockery and The Travesty Of It All.

Horrendously beautiful people are irritating.

Brisbane is currently being dogged by a throng of young, enchanting and captivating hipsters. They're everywhere, filling all the new bars and swell cafes with their perfectly coiffed hair and clipped beards. Mind you, I do enjoy looking at men with beards. This trend can stay.

I look at these darlings in their super stylin' get up and I wonder how they embezzle the cash for their bikes, fancy shoes and ever changing eyewear collections. I hate them for having this inherent panache for fashion, fancy footings and fine things. I add that it's easy to be envious. This lifestyle of fluttering between gigs and parties with other charming belles and beaus is as appealing as their blemish free faces.

I like to think about attractiveness. Being a babe will generally give people a leg up in the world. Two bucks short for the train fare? Not a drama. Nothing to wear? Throw on a tea towel and a new trend is born. It stinks, and the average and less-than average folk are left to battle and conquer to find someone accessible to date and mate with.

It helps to remember that physical appearance means sweet f.a. in the grand scheme of things. When I get pissed off that I'm not attracting such pretty folk (or anyone for that matter) I think about how gross even the most classically beautiful person looks when they are decomposed. Health, life, and the way you live it is really all that matters. When you are born you look like shit. When you die, you look even more shit. And yes, you shit all the way through.

Sorry pretty people. I don't really hate you, I'd just like an ideal world with an equal playing field.

Peace,
S.