The Tyranny of Cool

At the oppressive party made more unbearable by the surrounding cadre of extroverts effortlessly chatting away through yet another round of spontaneous merry-making, Simon made his way around the large room, picking up random objects - little trinkets, souvenirs - twirling them about in his hand; when that failed to assuage his anxiety, he would sample the available chairs or stand perched in a corner taking in the dimensions, half-hoping to not drawn attention to himself and half-needing Terrence and the Old Soul to stand guard nearby. It was a typical Saturday night affair, the effete young crowd feigning energy and excitement, fervently gesturing to one another as they gossiped about professors and other local celebrities, dawning those affected voices that drove Simon crazy, so needlessly advertising their rarefied intelligence to anyone who would listen. Did you hope to take Dr. Werner's seminar on modern warfare? You really should. You really must. But then, of course, you'll want to do his sequel course on power-dynamics and peace-making in the age of terror. You'll be hooked - but don't go near psychology - it's  ticking time-bomb with the present chairperson...I've got an internship for the summer (how about you all?) and after that I'm doing a semester in Rome...Actually the three of us are...If you have the chance, do come see us at our summer retreat in Vermont - will you? There's a killer band playing tonight down in P-town. I went shopping today as best I could, but it's nothing like New York. Oh look....someone should really introduce those drips to a controlled substance or two. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Yes and ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. Holding court as usual amid all this chatter was someone named Drew or Drake or Donald or Dudley - one of those dashingly forward individuals always at the center of attention and who seem to have the last word or the punch line for otherwise tepid banter. The big D could be heard, at various intervals, dispensing advice, issuing edicts, making snap judgments on education, style, fashion with his nothing-if-not-glib, off-the-cuff remarks: Oh don't take that course - it's a dud. You should really hang out more with Ken - he's just your type. Everyone needs to stop wearing purple as of now. Yes, doll, I'll have another shot of that. Ha. Ha. Ha. After about an hour and a half of such boorish, faux-raucous conversation and canned laughter, having foraged to excess at the the appetizer table, while sipping and spilling punch, Egg had planned a delicate exit - like an photographer whose camera (in this case a psyche) has reached its limit - yet, inexplicably, he found himself stalling, half-paralyzed, for fear of offending Olivia - a girl that he secretly sought to impress through his powers of endurance - i.e. his ability to withstand unbearable situations such as others would think completely harmless. Olivia was one of the few there who were able to convey a genuine sincerity even when seeming to agree with the inane/recycled/predictable opinions that the cool ones saw fit to bounce around. But Simon (nickname: Egg) refused to join in - making a point of being off in the corner sulking with his supposed coterie of like-minded dissidents. Before dissecting the male specimen that was sucking up so much of the air in the room, he made a point of referring to a disturbing trend that he had once again noticed while searching downtown for a rarefied poster of an Andre Derain landscape.... So first I go to Brewsters Prints and they DON'T have any Andre Derain....not a single landscape or portrait or harbor image....And no they can't order one ....And no I can't order one online because such a poster has never been made and does not exist. Can you believe it? -  You've have a rough day - said Terrence quietly.  - Yes a rough day, but to make matters worse here I am ambling from shop to shop in search of any late-impressionistic work to hang on my wall and I walk past not one, not two, but five (count 'em) five women of substance - you know... beautiful, vibrant, charming, intelligent, attractive, well-groomed females paired up with absolutely degenerate, bummy, loser guys. -Oh, said Terrence, absent-mindedly. That's..........not good. - You're finally catching on? - C'mon Egg - you're sounding quite melodramatic with your idealized angelic women on on side each paired up with a devilish male.... -  Sure...you can laugh if you want to...where do you think this beauty and the beast stereotype comes from? Huh? Huh? - The beast must have something special to offer her... said Terrence. - The beast is an illusion - a sham - a walking travesty - that anyone can see from a mile away. Why does it bother me so much? - Because you wish you could be the beast. - Fie. Fie. Don't be ridiculous. - Because you want what the beast has.  - No. No. No. That's not it. This cutting-edge specimen of manbeast has nothing to offer - that's my point.  We're talking ratty, disheveled, arrogant, egotistical males of the type that will drag anyone they meet into a large black hole. - Oh - that kind. - Yes - that kind. -Well - I still think your missing the key insight - said Terrence. - Terrence - are you really going to try to sell us on your bizarro-universe concept of love? - No Egg. You're forgetting the wildness factor. These male specimens as you call them offer up danger and mayhem in doses that guys like us can never hope to achieve due to our self-repressive, civilized tendencies. -So because they have "reckless" and "irresponsible" written all over them - that's enough to trump any of the regular common human decencies that someone else might bring along? - Basically, yeah. - And to make matters worse - here we have Exhibit A holding court across the room - and hoodwinking even the smartest of the bunch people like Oliv--- Oh I don't know said Terrence,  with his usual contrarian streak - he has a certain energy to him.  -Yeah - he's quite charismatic, chimed the Old Soul. - I take that back - said Terrence. - What? - Well - what I just said. Let me revise that somewhat. It's the wildness quotient + the fantasy. It's both of those together. - The fantasy? - Yes - people seek the danger as part of their fantasy....they crave the adventure that can never be - the one-sided scenario that ignores the complexity of things.... ....they chase after this flame - which seems to promise the fullness of life but in reality a desire for self-annihilation. - -Back to your theories Terrence! Guys your torturing me! - Bottom line is - cautioned Terrence - the women love him....And this is going to sound weird to someone like yourself Egg - but what they love about him is the chaos factor... -The chaos factor?  - He's the wild horse they all want to ride upon.... the freight train they want to chase after... the cheetah that they seek an encounter with... -Argggh! - Stop with the metaphors - please Terrence! - It all taps into the fantasy - which requires that a person chase after death.... Do I make myself clear? - Not really said the Old Soul - but I think I understand you. - Well it just goes to show you said Egg - how Mick Jagger is responsible for this complete degradation - this utter farce - the tyranny of cool. - Mick Jagger? Is that what you just said? - Well - who else would you blame? Casanova? Jagger - he's the one who started this ball rolling - as it were - with his decrepit degenerate example.