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little awareness of what day it is and is often very pale. She frequently misses prescheduled events such as dinners with friends, drinks with potential suitors and various and sundry medical appointments (all of them long overdue and quite necessary).
     
     
     
    Exacerbating this state of affairs is the fact that she, like many of the poor, shiftless souls who make up Gen-Y, has a mild-to-acute case of ADD, meaning she often has trouble committing to any one set of plans. Take last Wednesday night. (Wednesday is one of the few nights Marisol has free.) The previous day, Marisol had asked her friend Jana to accompany her to a party during which attendees would assemble pancakes from a variety of ingredients (Butterfingers, truffles, celery, narcotics). The night of the party, however, Marisol ended up sleeping until 11:30 p.m., at which time her friend Bobbie Lonely called, offering to take her to an ironic disco-themed party at which several C-list celebrities would be in attendance. Marisol, under the impression that it was Monday (her other free night), headed to the party. On the way, she stopped to drink in McCarren Park with a group of friendly looking Crusties, and since her iPhone had run out of juice hours before, she missed the many texts and phone calls from Jana and Bobbie Lonely, the latter of whom sat at home writing anguished poetry about his black, black soul.
     
 
    With age, most Americans settle into certain schedules: making the morning coffee, showering and dressing for work, commuting, killing one’s soul and creative spirit for eight hours a day and then rewarding oneself with either alcohol, food or hours and hours of reality television. And then, when the weekend comes, they rejoice, engaging with relish in preplanned social activities along the lines of bar-hopping, attending a concert or participating in an athletic pursuit of some sort. Not so with the average hipster, who often forsakes societal norms such as “work,” “commuting” and “bathing.”
     

    Figure 3 : A Hipster’s Schedule
     
    Because this rare species lacks the constraints that shape the social practices of the average Joe Blow American, leisure time is redefined. Instead of being relegated to the weekends and/ or the odd “school night,” recreation can occur at any moment, punctuating a dreary day like an ethereal ray of golden light in a particularly gloomy cloud formation. Thus, 2 a.m.—considered a late/early hour for most of civilization—becomes a perfectly acceptable juncture at which to board the Bolt bus to Philly to attend a secret concert in a Masonic temple. 7 [See Figure 4 .] Scheduling a decent night of drinking and watching cartoons prevents one from engaging in the cornucopia of other activities simultaneously taking place all over the city. 8 Ask any hipster or Kerouacian thinker—the most perfect nights cannot be planned.
     

    Figure 4 : Fun in Relation to Planning
     
    a. Jordan pulls up outside your apartment at 3 a.m. in a borrowed camper with a sentence fragment on his lips: “Mushrooms, seaside, now.”
    b. Macy texts you at 12 a.m. (while you’re already out at a lame bar) to invite you to a rooftop party where a naked dance party later occurs.
    c. Johnny calls at 4 p.m. to ask if you want to go to a gallery opening—free wine and snacks (i.e., dinner)!
    d. Carla asks you on Friday if you want to see a show on Saturday night. There’s a $5 cover and the opening band is kinda OK.
    e. Leon e-mails you on Tuesday to see if you want to see his friend’s play on Friday night. It’s about Bukowski. At least four of your friends from college are in it. You’ll have to call the box office to buy tickets.
    f. Ernie sends you a Facebook invite—for something that’s, like, weeks away—I’m sorry, I stopped paying attention, what’s going on?
    This joie de vivre has a profound effect on a hipster’s interactions with his or her friends, and even the initial selection of this elite group.