So, if you read last night's post (which I know SOMEONE did because the stats on my blog have gone up exponentially
Tonight, I was supposed to go see Theophilus London perform at the Bowery Ballroom. In case you haven't heard of him, he's this Brooklyn-bred indie MC who's been kind of buzzed about over the past year (performed at Cannes, on Letterman, got a Pitchfork review (albeit a horrible one), blah, blah, blah) and whose first full-length album just dropped a week ago.
He also has great style and has been featured in some magazine spreads and is pretty cute and OMG WHO LOOKS THAT GOOD IN YELLOW?!
Sorry. But, in all seriousness, he's basically a well-dressed dude who makes poppy, eclectic sounding rap music that is pretty so-so from a critical perspective, but is nevertheless easy to sing along and dance fake-badly to.
And hipsters everywhere rejoice.
As would I, if I weren't about to Netflix some old Office episodes (got to enjoy my respect for the show before James Spader comes on and kills it) and lie in bed so my stomach can recover from downing my go-to NYC comfort food for dinner:
Less pathetic posts to come. At some point. I think.
Photo credit: Theophilus London- herfection.com