The Rainbow Gathering is still a few months away, so there's still time to get some money together to pay for a clutch. GQ takes a look at the most recent iteration of Romantic, Youthful Drifters. Hobos is the romantic term these days; Amotivational Indoor Barfers would be another. What's the new angle? Millennial drifters.

Kids are still unplugging and trying out The Hobo Life—but what happens when you add Wi-Fi and Indiegogo campaigns and iPhone apps to the experience?

Then it's not unplugging.

There's some casual profanity, used by the author as your guarantee of Peer-reviewed Authenticity - everyone knows he probably has better, more evocative words, but we don't want to think this guy is, you know, judgmental about people who can't use any other words. Anyway:

Leaving home was the easy part. I’m at a hobo campground at the dead end of a lonely road at Bastendorff Beach, near the tiny seaside outpost of Charleston in the Great Drifter Heaven that is the state of Oregon. And I couldn’t wait to get here. I left my house on the East Coast, speed-walked impatiently through airports, got a car, and drove four hours, very fast, all to get to this: a parking lot next to a cold-bleep beach, where a woman in a (bleeping) sedan with no hubcaps is doing endless doughnuts in the mud and where the surrounding woods host a makeshift tent village for many, many meth addicts. And yet I was in a hurry, and it wasn’t because I hate my home, or my family. It was just the itch. You know the itch. You wake up every day in a climate-controlled box, then you get into another box to go to work, then you sit in a third box all day just so you can afford bigger boxes and fancy crap to put in those boxes. Somewhere inside all those boxes, you get the itch to blow it all up. Leave everything behind. Live in the motherf***n’ moment. Like Kerouac did, or Cheryl Strayed, or those people in those Expedia ads.

They have a hard time getting together enough money to fix the van because everyone blows it on beer and weed

Perhaps along they way they can give a ride to Jake Gyllenhall, who has given a deep interview about his deep new movie, "Shallow Metaphor for Capitalism." No - sorry, it's "Demolition." His character has everything going for him until the script requires this shopworn symbol to suffer a tragedy that makes him Question things.

Instead of returning to autopilot, Davis chooses to destroy the any and all remnants of his former self. Armed with a sledgehammer and bulldozer, he reduces his chic suburban home to a pile of rubble. Along the way, he forms a unique bond with another lost soul, Karen (Naomi Watts), and her son Chris (Judah Lewis), who’s suffering an identity crisis of his own.

“What do you believe in when you don’t know what it is to believe?” asks Gyllenhaal. “He has to destroy things in the physical world because he doesn’t know how to do it in the emotional world, and as he does it in the physical world, he starts to meet people who show him how he really feels.”

It's always Naomi Watts who shows up to make the troubled hero's life better, no? Never someone from the Hobo story who's looking for cash to get some scabies medication. Or maybe just beer.

VotD Being drunk + Chinese construction standards = yikes.