I can`t say I was one of the "cool cats" in my day. I can't say that I dressed right, or talked right, or had enviable toys. I wouldn't tell you that I spent a lot of time trying to impress anyone, at least as much as I do now. But, in my own head, somewhere, I was cool. Oh, sure I wouldn`t tell any one, so it would follow that no body knew to what great extents my coolness reached. Maybe some of my friends knew, or maybe we figured it out towards the end of the year, when we really sat down, &mulled it over. And we realised how proud of ourselves we were: because we liked the people we were growing in to.
So, even now, surrounded by far more "coolness" than I know what to do with, I can`t claim to be any closer to this ambiguously unattainable adjective. But I don`t mind. I still like the creature I`m being grown in to. &I think it`s those humans who don`t worry about being interesting, that are the best at it, any way. So you can have all your apple products, american apparel, polaroids, dave eggars novels, moleskines, &everything else your parents have never even heard of.
But, Merry Christmas, I keep the typewriter.
