substitute

WITH his vintage blue-and-red rep tie, carefully tousled hair and old metal lapel pin reading "I {heart} Grandpa," Loren Kreiss looks like a typical style-conscious 24-year-old. He collects cool things, like 2,194 "friends" on myspace.com, an antique Coke machine and 15,000 songs on his hard drive. His vintage wristwatch is a fashion accessory, not a tool.

"My watch and all my clocks are set to the wrong time," Mr. Kreiss said recently. "It's symbolic of me. I don't like to look at time."

But as the scion of Kreiss, his family's California-based furniture business, Mr. Kreiss (pronounced to rhyme with nice) sometimes has to work at being an iconoclast. He can barely contain his contradictions. For instance, his three-times-a-week maid often resets the clocks correctly, forcing Mr. Kreiss to reset them quirky again. (To avoid missing appointments, he consults his ever-present BlackBerry.)

The rest of the article is here at the NY Times.

But wait, no, I need to paste another quote: Mr. Kreiss writes his graphic novels on his BlackBerry while working out on an elliptical trainer at the gym.

Wait wait, no, here's another: He hung out with bands like Blink-182 during the height of San Diego's neo-punk scene, sang in a band and produced three records on his indie Lurid label.

Okay I have to go punch a yuppie now. Brb.