We all casually throw around words like “crazy” and “fringe” when describing contemporary politics, but once in a while, developments like Rand Paul’s candidacy come along, and the need to reevaluate the blurred lines between Republican politics and sheer madness becomes apparent.

On June 17, Stowe will be accompanied by a flotilla of boats up the Hudson River to Pier 81 (World Yacht pier) where he will debark at 1 p.m. and step foot on land for the first time in over three years. He will reunite with his companion, Soanya Ahmad, who sailed with Stowe for the first 306 days of the voyage, but had to leave due to morning sickness. Ahmad now holds the women’s record for the longest non-stop sea voyage. Stowe will also meet, for the first time, his son Darshen, who was conceived at sea and is now almost two years old.

The hipster I’m talking about—the definition I’m trying to get back to—is an obsessive curator of her own life: from fashion and art to drugs and rock and roll, the real hipster is a voracious consumer of culture in constant search of new routes to beauty and truth, ways of forestalling death, of fighting back against the inevitable compromises of time and age. The real hipster is desperate to remain one step ahead of convention, to make art from life and life from art. She is a collector and a collage-artist, aesthetically adventurous, intellectually playful. Do not blame her for the marketing commodity her lifestyle becomes six months after she’s lived it.