Kouros

I wrote this months ago, but feel like putting it here for posterity.

Dudes, it took me 6 months of searching, but I finally smelled Kouros...

Tucked away in the far corner of a gigantic Sephora, the sales girl had no idea what I was talking about. She looked at the bottle with slight disgust, and said something like "This?! But it's so old!" Spraying a generous cloud onto the tester strip, her eyes glazed over and she stood there for a minute staring into the distance.

"My father used to wear this a long time ago. You just made me think of him now."

Hands shaking, I took the strip and slowly brought it to my nose. Oh my god. It's safe to say that Kouros is the most powerful and divisive scent ever created, an homage to oily Greek playboys, hairy chests, and disinfectant. Named after the ancient Greek statues dedicated to Eros, the Kouros were meant to represent the male form in perfection and symbolized the raw power of testosterone. Kouros is a symposium in a bottle, in all its dated and disgusting glory.

The best way I can describe the smell is the aftermath of an orgy with the cleaner splashing bleach everywhere and a lone, half-drunk geezer in the corner morosely jerking off to re-runs of Dallas.

I left the store dazed, refusing the sales girl's offers to try more modern and popular scents. In a way I hope I never have to smell Kouros again, but much like a car wreck it's likely permanently etched into my brain, a scented reminder of the dangers of ignoring conventional advice. I urge you to all smell Kouros just once, to glimpse into a terrifying alternate universe of what might have been if the Panhellenic Empire had never collapsed. Just don't buy a bottle.

Lament for a Bro

It's been a while bro
where you been at?
Thought of you mid keg stand
in an undergrad bar
pre frosh frosh
last sat

I know you've been at the yard
keeping the place down for Rick Ross
showing steelies who the boss
making dough and pushing skids
to btown landscapers and reno kids
but still bro
where you been at?

Coulda used your expertise
at the after party mackin on freshies
needed a wingman to distract fatties
while I sipped brewskies
and worked my Doctor game
on some crazy blonde with huge tits
Made me wonder again bro
where you been at?

Riddle me this Bro-hotep
like a motherfucking sphinx
drinking natty and slaying fools
on some old skool knowledge tip
when bro's bail in a forest
Do they make a sound?

Hope to catch you before the afterlife
Riding chariots of the sun god
into the moon of pussy
Life's too short for wondering
where you been at?

Day 1

It's finally arrived. After years of thinking, six months of applications and planning, two weeks of vacation and a lifetime of regret, I've finally jumped tracks and landed back in school again. The feeling of relief is indescribable, and I'm incredibly lucky to have such a supportive group of friends and family around me to help cheer me on. When the penny finally dropped last October I remember thinking clearly that I finally knew what I wanted to do, but making it happen seemed overwhelming; there's nothing quite like a huge and intricate plan coming together nicely.

I've often wondered what reinventing yourself would feel like. Would it be nerve-wrecking, exciting, dangerous, or exhilarating? All of the above, it turns out. What I didn't expect what the overriding sense of calm confidence, the quiet knowledge that you're heading in the right direction, that everything is going to be OK.

I'm glad I'm finally here. Now lets get started...

An ode to swag

What you looking at son? I don't provide fit details, if you've gotta ask then you don't deserve to know. I'm on some top level next level post-Slimane apocalypse tip, since before F/W 06, since before you even knew what a stack was. Yeah.

You feeling my Americana-MTM-Alden collabo Wings? You like my knit wear, SNS Hering fisherman tip? You can have it, I've already moved on. Tweets from Kissi & crew asking for the best vintage in T.O. I don't even have the time. Too busy hitting up ebay for my imported selvedge, straight from Japan, pure indigo woven with envy. Don't even try to find it now son, UO will stock in 8 months. Cop at your own risk.

Your girl getting juiced just looking at my shit, wondering if it's pomade or pure steez that's putting waves in my James Dean locks.

Your boys reppin my B/S on SUFU.

Selling Skulls 5010xx 6x6 with black tabs, before they were pulled, before you could find them on BiG. $300, like new, like your gf see's on the sales racks at Diesel, but better.

Translating Japanese thru Rakuten to bring you the hottest shit. What, you don't speak Japanese?

What's next, you ask? I can't tell you, I haven't decided yet

L'hiver

Winter just turns me into a hermit. I've barely left the house these past few months, and have been quite happy to scurry from the car through the front door, turn the lock, and not venture out until the next morning. In a way it's enjoyable and feels like I'm tapping into the natural rythm of the seasons, which might just be a nicer way of saying I've been incredibly fucking lazy.

Still, plans progress. School starts in Spring, I get to quit my life and start a new one. It's oddly nice being back home too, I like having Dad around. We're two men trying our best to move on with things, and it feels good to have someone around to help out.

Fruit

I was walking out of the bank today when this women who was waiting in line for the green machine looked at me and half moaned like a cow being force fed a leg of lamb through it's arsehole. "Oh my god", she blarted, "he's so skinny!", with extra emphasis placed on the skinny. She said this while gripping a banana in her left hand, holding it like it was proof that despite all appearances she was actually healthy and slim, and her gluttonous rolls of lard were a mere optical illusion or a temporary glandular problem.

I glided past with all the confidence of a a person fully in command of his diet and body. I could hear her bones protesting as they tried vainly to support her weight, her chubby hand daintily holding the banana which would soon be converted into another extra chin, or early onset diabetes. Driving away I saw her through the window, still standing in line, still holding that banana like Jesus must've brandished his truth, while her carcass bore the weight of her sins with all the grace and dignity of a beached whale.

When she dies, I hope someone places a banana in her hands. As the crematorium incinerates her bright yellow coffin, I'll be there, eating a cupcake and smiling.

Avalon

I've tried, I really have. For all the sarcastic emails and conversations berating people who buy into the white picket fence dream, I ended up in line at the paint store, queing for brushes and tins. For the past two years I've given it my best shot; the mortgage, RSP account, professional career, steady relationships. I own property, am on the ladder in a large and well respected company, and I hate my life. I am a cliche of a cliche. It ends here.

On the plus side to all of this, I've answered the questions that bothered me all those years ago, namely how did people end up like this? How do you go from being young and idealistic to old and bitter, stressed, frantically trying to eke out satisfaction from the most mundane activities. I've been in the professional world for two years, and if my experiences were condensed into a brochure the picture would not be attractive.

Fear of the unknown keeps people in a state of inertia. Security is such a strong motivator that we will sacrifice every kind of risk in order to maintain it.

Earlier today I came across old emails sent to friends while I was away backpacking shortly after I graduated, and was surprised at how creative, spontaneous, entertaining and hilarious they were. That was a time when it felt like anything was possible, when I had a lot to say and was not afraid of saying it. It's been a long time since I've felt like that. I haven't written much recently because there's been nothing to say. I hope to change that in the near future.