I think "we" as "I" sit in a cool breeze that is gracefully wisping across Midtown Manhattan roofs, wafting in from the harbor and the Hudson River and from out beyond the Verrazano; what was it "we" had that "they" didn't have?; foolish thinking, foolish consideration, stick to the moment, and I sigh and want to write about "we" and "they" but I can't. Why? I'm too cool in the coolest coolio sense of the word, cool, cool, cool, and not smoking Kools, whose K stands for Killer, and Kools were the coolest coffin nails, and some trend-setters still think it's cool to smoke and maybe it is; I have no opinion about trends; what's a trend? Where does it come from? Some senior number cruncher or computer modeler?; some argumentative genius who is out to rape the slugger workers in favor of the licentious shareholders who want to watch?--why they pay big bucks to watch good rape.
So I withdraw. I lean back into my cool place, my cool well-lighted place, under a lamp, and I'm reading, and I'm reading twice, like "we" are reading, cool stuff, and listening to cool stuff on my (our) iPod--why not?--and I'm under my own celestial dome, my own sky, my own invention, my own trend, a trend to sneak off and hide deep in the coolest corner of coolville, a cool city of cool dreams dreamed in the coolest of colorful hallucinations where we're all cool and frozen stiff.
Cool is an aesthetic of attitude, behavior, comportment, appearance, style and Zeitgeist. Because of the varied and changing connotations of cool, as well its subjective nature, the word has no single meaning. It has associations of composure and self-control (cf. the OED definition) and is often used as an expression of admiration or approval.
"We" Are Hard to Pleeze; Therefore "We" Are Cool
Check out this site--we were against it at first glance but then read a nice criticism of the horrible Rupert Murdoch invention American Idol and Simon Hambone, Paula Ab-Dull, and Randy the Unknown Black Dude on it and how they know as much about American pop music as Lawrence Welk knew about progressive jazz--sorry, I'll bet Lawrence knew more about progressive jazz than these three AI birds (AI for "artificial intelligence"--how cool is that?).
And when the cool was born, at the birth of the cool, as the first satellites were being sailed cooly off into the ultrablue cool cold spacious extended blue from light blue to deep-space blue, with its gaping-open mouth welcoming pieces of hot, fiery, burning crappy tin as the cool propellant scientists learn to explode them a la Robert Goddard and sizzle them off into the wide unknown and then rockets were cool until they came down on your home and blew the hell out of your hot innards and made a mixed salad of your scrambled brains and guts and glory and your existence skyrockets so cool--and rockets became cool toys for cool boys but not girls, no, cool boys with visions beyond reality, so cool, but girls, cool girls, fool girls, wise girls, serious girls, wild girls, cool girls, and cool girls are so sweetly cool with their pocket rockets where cool boys are so wisely cool with their overgrown erect rockets. It takes a really cool dude to score with a really cool chick, though never the twain shall meet; two cools equal a train wreck. I'm (We're) getting as bitterly pessimistic as Dorothy Parker.
It Came Along From Out of Nowhere
Here's a strange essay "we" found on the I-net--check it out:
There is no object on earth that looks and feels as much like an erect human penis as a well-made, hand rolled cigar. Sigmund Freud, the pioneer of psychoanalysis, is quoted as saying, "Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar," implying that most of the time a cigar is a substitute for an erect penis. Think of the diameter and length of a Churchill or double corona cigar. Then visualize the veins in the rolled tobacco leaves. Now add a cone shaped head which is radiating heat. Finally, put that image between a beautiful woman's lips, which resemble vagina lips, and let her suck on it a bit. See the way its cone-shaped head glows, sparkles and gives off even more heat as she sucks? Now, as she parts those soft, warm, moist, pink lips, her mouth is filled with a thick, creamy white substance that flows like fresh semen. This is why polite society strictly forbade women to smoke from the time of Columbus until the Twentieth Century. Watching an attractive woman savor a good sized cigar is about as close to watching her have sexual intercourse as you're going to get without seeing the real thing.
Watching an attractive woman smoke a cigarette is a similar experience, but with one added feature. When she delicately holds her lit cigarette between the tips of two perfectly straight fingers, it looks like an exceptionally large, erect penis between two legs, in miniature. Then you can watch its head glow brightly as she sucks on it as well. If she follows that with a pop inhale or a French inhale, you get to see that thick, creamy white stuff that filled her warm, moist, pink mouth as well. It just doesn't get any better than this.
Needless to say, women who smoke have always been classified by society as "bad girls". A lit cigarette is an essential accessory for any prostitute or topless dancer who wants to make money. "Good girls" don't smoke, but a girl who smokes always has a "dark side" lurking somewhere. Combine the phallic appearance of a lit cigarette between a woman's straight fingers, and the hypnotic relaxation of watching drifting smoke and you often have an instant, uncontrollable erection. The sight of a "bad" mother teaching her young daughter to be "bad" more than doubles the effect.
A similar "bad" connotation applies to young boys who smoke, but it works a little differently.Funky, huh? Certainly laughable. I'm (We're) cooly grinning from lips to lips.
for The Daily Growler