the first uncoolest coolest uncool of the season

Last weekend was the first weekend of the outdoor Brooklyn Flea in Fort Green and man did I have a swell time.

I ran into a couple that had been previously described by another friend as the un-coolest cool people they’ve ever met. After having a strange and mostly self-inflicted awkward round of hellos with them and a few moments of conversation, the jury is still out.

I could hardly understand what the fuck they were saying during my aborted attempt at small talk. Their husky mumbled dialects totally confused me. Rather than continuing to ask, “WHAT?” I just smiled and nodded and looked around at the shitty overpriced “antiques” that you can pick up at Habitat for Humanity in Asbury Park, NJ for a song and a NJ Transit ticket. Maybe they speak in a high-frequency language to each other that normal ears are unable to decipher. Maybe they stop time and bullet point your defects…my lack of career, my H&M clothing, the way I fumble with sarcasm (insecurity defense) and then default to some banal observation when I’m nervous…then, like Evie in that late 80’s TV show, “Out of this World,” they touch their index fingers together and exchange shifty eyed glances. Being around them is like perpetually walking in on the tail end of an inside joke. You missed the beginning but it doesn’t even matter because you WOULDN’T FUCKING GET IT ANYWAY! I don’t know who’s making fun or when I should laugh or at who or what.

He made some offhanded blogging comment about the incredible food selection at the Brooklyn Flea. Something, something, “I’ll blog about it.” I laughed. Then I thought, wait, did he read my blog? Is he making fun of me? I had a momentary pang of paranoia that he was. I asked a list of questions to the universe: Does he think I am a bad writer? Have they been reading my stuff? Do they sit around and make fun of me? Do they read it aloud making fun of me? I wanted to explain myself.

Blogs are usually quantity. Every day something is dispatched to the few friends you’ve guilted into following you. Quantity is key to a successful and marketable-ish blog. Quantity usually lacks quality. So if you’re not going to update every day you better have something profound to say—and profound by blogging standards really just means a moderate degree of sarcasm with a few references to your slightly unidentified workplace or some asshole hipster you and your follower/friends know.

I have neither quality nor quantity in my poorly managed “blogs” if you can even call them that. I didn’t want him to think the writing on my blogs was indicative of my writing ability. I rarely updated them and the writing that is posted lacks anything approaching profound. The first blog served as a venting platform for the retail industry back when I was a manager at Juicy Couture—but then I got canned so I started another blog entitled “Wear Comfortable Shoes” because everyone should heed that advice in any and every interpretation of the phrase. It was also because I figured I would soon be walking everywhere, unable to pay for public transportation after the savings ran out and the student loan payments drained my weekly unemployment pittance…so I will wear comfortable shoes. AND the kitschy FUNemployemnt nomenclature was taken (she stopped blogging in July 2009) …

So, halfway through my conversation with the universe and our generic questions and jokes about flea market shopping they kind of lost interest in me. Their indifference to my goings-on was very poorly hidden and I was slightly offended because I wasn’t that interested in them FIRST! I had already pegged them UNCOOL and weird. Then they playfully talked about how they were going to spend their whole day loafing around the market and eating rounds of street food and thought it sounded really nice. I thought about how I could hang out there all day and eat street meat and laugh about nothing in particular. THen maybe blog about it to my one reader–my boyfriend–who oddly enough keeps forgetting to mark my blog email alerts as “NOT JUNK.”

I looked at them again, stylish but in a Saturday morning effortless kind of way—even though you know it isn’t effortless. Or maybe it is because they both have interesting and shamefully high paying jobs so they can fill their closet with tasteful and flattering garments. They’re minimalistic. They make purchases that matter.

FUCK. They are the COOOLEST uncool people ever.

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