Wednesday, May 04, 2005


I'm not cool! I've never been cool, and God willing, I'll never be cool. I don't even think I get the concept of being cool. In fact, most probably I could be classified as a grumpy old man with an attitude problem. It's not for a lack of trying. Trying to be cool is like having sex with a crackwhore. It's cheap. It's devoid of joy and all the while you got this crazy idea that somehow you're dick is gonna fall off.
I tried wearing sunglasses all the time. What's the deal with that? I live in Amsterdam. It rains all the time. I must have looked ridiculous. Still there must be something to it. All those cool people wearing sunglasses wether rain or shine, inside or outside. But after noticing a definite decrease in the quality of my vision, I gave that up. (Besides, I looked like an idiot, bumping into furniture in broad daylight.)
I tried having loud conversations on my cellphone all the time. But since I don't have many cool friend, and am on a very tight budget, I had to give that up as well. Besides I felt like an idiot talking back to a busy-signal all day.
I tried looking angry and dangerous all the time. But after a week of headaches and spending a fortune on paracetamol, I gave it up.
I tried watching MTV 24/7. That was probably the hardest part of the "trying-to-be-cool" ordeal. Apart from the epilleptic siezures that brought about, I had a really hard time staying awake. Let's face it. MTV may be cool, but spoiled little black kids trying to recite bad poetry to the beat of a drumcomputer, and brainless blondes capitalising on repressed pedophillic sexual fantasies are not really a motivation for most non-cool people.
I tried wearing a baseballcap the wrong-way round. But the sun kept shining in my eyes. I tried making "gangsta-signs" (or whatever they call them), but when people started enquiring wether I was having another seizure, I had to give that up as well. I tried driving around in my car real slow with the radio turned to maximum volume, but I almost turned deaf. I tried talking Jive with a Jamaican accent, but when even my Jamaican friends started asking me what the fuck I was talking about, I gave that up as well. I tried the "bling-bling" thing. But please people.... It's not easy wearing a 4 pound gold-laminated chain with my name (HansChristiaan) on it around my neck. After a days work, my back used to ache as if I'd lifted elephant shit at the zoo.
I got me some cool friends, and we used to "hang out". But the joy of "chillin", (don't ask, I never quite got the concept), "hanging", (same), "rapping" (somehow William Butler Yeats does not lend himself well to being recited to the "beat" of a computer) and "lounging" (simillar to "chillin" and "hanging" but in a more comfortable way I gather) never quite managed to reach my heart.
I have finally faced up to the truth. I'm not cool. I'm fucking emotional. I drink too much, I smoke too much, I talk English with an Indian sing-song accent. I cry when I feel like it. I laugh too hard at my own jokes. I listen to Jazz and Opera and Frank Sinatra, and when my hangover lifts around noon, it's always a surprise to see that I actually managed to pull a clean shirt out of my closet.
I'm not cool. I never will be. Thank God. I don't want my dick to fall off.


Blogger kris said...

im cool! which explains my lack of anyways, trends are for the sheep to follow..i choose to walk my own path.

12:50 AM  
Blogger Le chameau insatiable said...

boy, i like you !

2:47 AM  
Blogger Ms Burden said...

I think that surgery technology has developed to an extent that fallen out dicks can be re-attached, hasn't it?

5:43 PM  

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