Totally Uncool

Party guy

“Where’s the buzz?” I asked myself. “Where’s it happening? Where’s the happening scene?” I was dead-set on finding out where the happening scene was. The hell with this lark of hanging around with uncool people, soaking up their crappy uncool vibes, wasting my time in dead-end scenes, places where there was nothing happening. Places where there was no chance of anything happening. Places where there was no buzz. I had no time for that. I itched to be where the buzz was, where all the stuff was happening. Where IT was happening. If you know what I mean. I knew it was happening out there somewhere, and I also knew that where I was it wasn’t happening. As simple as that.

 

 

Where I was was a waste of space. Where I was was nowhere. Not even nowhere – it was the arsehole of nowhere. I can’t hang around here, I said to myself – nothing’s ever going to happen here. I could sense it. I could always sense where the buzz was and where it wasn’t ever going to be. That was a gift I had. You’ve got to be able to tune into it. “Sorry buddy,” I said to the guy I was talking to, “I’ve got to quit the scene. I’m cutting out. I need to find where the edge is and it isn’t here. There’s no edge here, we’re just stuck in an in-between space, a space with no edge.” The guy looked at me strangely but I had no time for that. I didn’t like to tell him straight out that he was totally uncool and that is why I had to cut out. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. God knows it wasn’t his fault or anything. Uncool people never know that they’re uncool, I reflected. They don’t know what’s cool or what’s uncool. That’s why they’re not cool.

 

 

Everyone in this dumb shit-hole place was uncool. That’s why I had to move on. Keep on searching. Seeking out the buzz.  Tuning in to where the happening scene was. Because it sure as fuck wasn’t here. I left the party and made my way down the Wandsworth Rd, not really knowing where I was going. Just going on instinct. Seeing where I would end up. The scene I had just left was supposed to be cool but it hadn’t been. It hadn’t been cool at all. So where would I go now, I asked myself. What next? I remembered that someone had said that there was a nice scene in Bonnington Square these days. That it was a cool place, basically. Might take a walk over there perhaps. Check it out. There was a vegan café there were everyone just paid what they felt they could afford. That was kind of cool. I could go there. I could check Bonnington Square out…

 

 

So I started walking along at a good pace, but as I walked I started to feel a bit bummed out. Depressed, almost. After another five minutes or so I didn’t just feel a bit bummed out – I was on a real serious bummer. A bad one. Major downer. As the feeling grew and grew I couldn’t help realizing that I was on a real bad buzz and I couldn’t snap out of it. It became clear to me that what had just happened wasn’t just ‘typical’ – it was the story of my life! I was never in the cool place, hanging out with cool people. That never happened to me – not ever. Not even once had it happened. I was always searching for a happening scene but I had never found one. I was always looking for where the buzz was going on but the buzz always eluded me. Then it occurred to me that to be always looking for where the buzz was but never actually finding it was a very uncool thing.

 

 

I always used to think that to be looking for where the buzz was the whole time was a cool thing, but I could now see that it wasn’t! Being where the buzz was happening was the cool thing. I was a sad, uncool person and I hadn’t realized it. No wonder I was bummed out, I thought, realizing a thing like this. I was jinxed – wherever I was, the buzz wasn’t. Wherever I went, that was the place where nothing was happening…

 

 

For sure there was a buzz going on in a lot of places – it just stopped dead when I got there. I killed it! My mere presence was enough to end the buzz. The reason I never got to hang out with the cool people was because they saw me coming. They saw me coming and that’s why they quit the scene. People didn’t want to talk to me because I wasn’t cool. Worse, than that – they hated me because I was a dick. They despised me because I was such a knob-head. I was a twagger. I was a stupid drongo bastard. Man this was a bummer, I thought to myself, overcome with anguish and saturated in self-pity. Then it hit me – I wasn’t uncool at all, I was just coming down from the handful of speckled blues that I had necked earlier! This was just a come-down. All I needed to do was to drop by Coronation Buildings (which was on my route), meet up with Speedy Frank, and score another six or eight blues. Ten, if I could afford it. Or maybe Frank would give me some on tick. Then everything would be fine again!

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