Cool is still cool; it remains the very definition of cool, so much so that its very coolness need be quantified in no other way except to say, it is cool. You can forget your ‘awesome’s, ‘groovy’s and ‘wicked’s; discard your sounds, phats and bitchin’s; the baseline of cool is still cool..
It has survived the dodgy dads and daytime sitcoms, evolved beyond its poor man’s origins, outgrew its irritating, dungaree clad adolescence, rose again from the ashes of cartoon turtles. Cool is cool.
A new word is not a rare event. I’m sure most of us have invented one, borne life through a tangle of the tongue. From there it may pass to brother or sister, or friend. Most die there, but some, live on. It may circle the class, the school; more die here, but a rare, rare, few, given a platform, may reach a generation. Here at the last hurdle resides a secret grave yard, strewn with yurglers and dringles, the Henman hill of literary immortality, knocked to oblivion by the ones that made it in. These are the elite, the top ten seeded: the beloved ‘Muggle’; the self- impressed ‘metrosexual’; the geeky ‘larping’.
Some would say the battle was won, but… Publication alone, as every writer knows, is only the beginning. You must survive..
Cool survived. Its try hard puberty days yielded longevity. Passed from cool cats, to cool kidz, to cool beans.. it endures. Perhaps because at its heart it is exactly what it says it is; under the glitz and pretension, cool really is cool, chilled, without het, holding firm in the pressure cooker, and it asks of you, no more no less..