The cool

The Cool cannot really be defined or quantified. It has to be felt. Some would say that The Cool is dieing, but it can still be found. In the the corners of once smoky jazz clubs, in the lining of an old felt hat, in the music of Miles Davis and Yusef Lateef. Prophets of the Cool occasionally arise in the night, out of dark alleys or illegally boarded trains. The Cool cannot simply be assumed. It must be lived, spoken, breathed. The Cool may have gone underground, but it is not dead. The Cool cannot be killed, or ruled, or regulated. It has it's own mind.