Blancalicious

Sometimes I really feel as though I have lost every funky bone in my body. It doen't matter whether the funky bones were real or imagined, at some point(s) in my life I thought I was hip in a sly way. These days I'm not so sure. If I do feel really cool, a cut from different fabric, it is usually halfway through my 6-pack and I wind up injuring myself before the night is out. Is it age? Is this condition what I have to look forward to for the rest of my life? If so, poor me, and poor you if you are stuck with me on the dance floor.



Might I propose a theory of funkyness? With every age comes a funkyness. Even though your numerical age changes every year and tehcnically you are aging with every breath, (Fuck off Sting), this is all nonsense. You really age in five year increments. This truth was revealed to me this summer by a great Northumberland philosopher who was evading the modern philosophical circuit by shaking a martini shaker for young, beautiful, rich women. (What a smart man!) Applying hyper-meta-theor-o-physical enlightnement laws I have decided that this, the 5-year incrementation of age, is why I feel about as cool as cold dog-shit lately. I just turned 25 (about 2.3 weeks ago as I write this) and I haven't found the perspective at which I can regain my cool hipness. I wonder how long it will take to find it? Most likely, hunting for it incessantly will not get me anywhere. More likely, I will find my new, awaiting, niche in this era of life by performing activities that make me completely forget about ever trying to be 'cool'. With this approach I will most likely encounter a period where I care more about how I think of myself rather than what others think about me.