Cool has many meanings, Cool has many faces. He’s found in many places with fingers in many pies. He’s like a die with many sides, and so in many cases, his original meaning he defies - he doesn’t stay in stasis. Yet if we study, might we see, a lexical chronology? A common thread, a linking chain, to explain Cool’s etymology?
It’s definitely got a lot to do with fashion, yet an inverse correlation with enthusiastic passion. Fashionably, dispassionately in vogue and up to date, yet always conversely fashionably late. So as not to give impression that this service, class or session; or lesson, or date, to which he’s come late, is the most important thing in the world he has to do today!
Or that he’s not overwhelmed with offers and plans, with much on his hands, or his plate. If such a thing is mentioned he will turn the other cheek, at least then they’ll appreciate his style and his chic. Le sassy fashionista, la trendiest barista, le smart impressionista. Cool ‘as got le code for de ultimate in mode. The latest thing, it’s all the rage; of course it costs a yearly wage. But it’s not cool to have bad hair, to have no flair or have to wear last season’s wardrobe.
Cool retains a temperature that has a tinge, a hue; of skies and sea, it seems to me, quite distinctly blue. Which verges on the chilly side – it’s true it can deliver, like a river, or a tide, quite an unexpected shiver. Some say it feels refreshing, invoking thoughts of rest. Tranquil, calm, unruffled, is Cool when at his best.
Cool has a propensity to minimal intensity. Muted, pale, reactionless, he’s quite low key in friendliness. Cool doesn’t stress. He doesn’t bless, with vibrant joy, for game or toy; or opinion or choice. Indefinite, indifferent: Cool doesn’t raise his voice.
As Cool saunters on through life with half hearted disdain, the only explanation - it’s just cooler to refrain. So he’s distant, reserved, not overly keen. Cool is careful don’t forget, not to sweat and not to let an un-cool emotion be experienced or seen. Excitement and exuberance are not his greatest traits. Cool waits, disengaged, but watching; then he rates the object of assessment with nonchalant endeavour. Cool doesn’t think that he’ll join in. Not now. No. Maybe never.
Copyright Phyllida Alexander 14th September 2021
Paper: hello, you’re back
Me: yeah, I need to talk
Paper: so, tell me all about it
Me: what should I say?
Paper; that’s entirely up to you. What brought you here today?
Me: I don’t know where to start, there’s so much in my head
Paper: What’s your inspiration. Was it something someone said?
Me: T’was a platitude that angered me
Paper: you dislike it
Me: I do
Paper: How about a headline? Can I offer you a pen?
Me: ok, shall I just start writing then?
Paper: Exactly, don’t think too hard. Just pen some feelings or some thoughts. Tell the story of your life, or write about your day. Let the ink flow freely – see what it has to say
Me: But I don’t know the ending, don’t even know the start. I don’t know why I’m angry, really.
Paper: Well start right where you are then – half way let’s suppose. Try a little scribble,
Me: ok, here goes
…..
“a bit frustrated. Vexed. A little sad. Why would he say that to me – I feel bad. No that’s wrong – I don’t feel bad, more angry in a way. No, even that is understated – pretty mad I’d say”.
Paper: I get it. But can you specify? What exactly is it that made you want to cry? That makes you feel like yelling now? Do you want to yell? Just try?
Me: no paper, that won’t work for long, ‘cause I can’t let it go. And I don’t want to lose it – I only want to snooze it. Press pause, return to simmer, not let my anger blow. I want to somehow capture it. And store it for later. Then, one day throw it back in his face and hit him between the eyeballs. But just now I don’t like it. I can’t think clearly with all these words buzzing around my head. Retaliatory phrases, that I should have or wish I’d said.
Paper: can you give them to me? And I’ll hold them here for you. I can see they’re very heavy, like a rucksack full of rocks. You can come and pick them up when you’re ready.
Me: what if I forget?
Paper: I’ll still be here, and if you forget, maybe I can just keep them?
Me: I’m not sure…..
Paper: how about you draw, a picture with your words? Paint around the edges with a little metaphor? Give body to the platitiude, personify the voice; consider how it landed, and was thrown. Who made this choice?
I picture a creature with a backhanded swing, placid on the surface but with a hidden sting. I can’t escape, it buzzes and flutters around me; it dips and dives, it sometimes hides and then it pops back up again – it seems it never dies. I describe this to the paper
Paper: so how will you catch it?
Me: I know! – with a net. I enter the picture like a hunter, I swing my net and the platitude becomes entangled, its legs entrapped and its wings ensnared. It has no more propulsion and I am safe from its sting.
Paper: Better?
Me: Yes. Thank you paper!
Copyright Phyllida Alexander 14th September 2021
And so, I sat down next to him and he sat next to me
Yeah, I hear you thinking - “well, obviously!”
But here we should distinguish the inequality
The sitting in this context isn’t mutual you see
The ‘sitter ‘and the ‘sat beside’ have different roles to play
One makes a choice; the other - well they have little say
The ‘sitter’ must take the risk, hope not to be rejected
Hope they’re not encroaching with the seat they have selected
Much can be read into it, their choice (they hope it won’t…..)
By those they choose to sit beside, as well as those they don’t
But, maybe their dilemma is relatively small
Compared with what the ‘sat beside’ encounters, after all
If the ‘sat beside’ should wish to move, the volume of their choice
Roars out in comparison with the ‘sitters’ little voice.
It declares in actions what decibels can’t do
“I absolutely don’t want to be sitting next to you”.
Copyright Phyllida Alexander 23rd January 2022
Den besvärliga grejen att fatta beslut
Och att klara det innan tiden går ut
Kan man finna frid och va’ resolut
Med de kneppiga, kluriga, hemska beslut?
Att vara bestämd är en stor utmaning
Om man absolut inte har en aning
Det krävs så mycket forskning och spaning
De här kneppiga, kluriga, hemska beslut
Varför klappar hjärtat så fort
Med tanken om ett beslut som är svårt?
När valet är stort men tiden gått bort
De här kneppiga, kluriga, hemska beslut
Man vrider och vänder och börjar förhöra
Sig själva med alla krav att fullgöra
Vad ska man göra? Hur ska man utgöra?
Den besvärliga grejen att fatta beslut
Can you plant your feet
And take a stance
Just take a chance
And land
Can you take a risk
And grasp the mettle
Come, and settle
And land
Can you make a decision
And get off the fence
Can you end the suspense
And land