Wednesday, May 04, 2005

Cool

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.

3 Comments:

Blogger kris said...

im cool! which explains my lack of penis...lol. 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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