Song Of The Day: Raspberry Beret / Prince
Word Of The Day: Obnubilate / Darken, dim, or conceal (as) with a cloud; obscure.
Yo gurhlz, today I was in hissy fit, because the fucking lame-ass spell check on my awesome-ass Mac did not know the word "obstinate". (Never confuse the infallible Mac with its constituent properties. A Mac is beyond reproach. Its components, however, may need improvement from time to time) Wha? What the fuck planet am I on, that the word "obstinate" is not in the spell check of my Mac? At first I deferred, cuz it's a Mac, so I must be wrong, right? I must be addled from my morning absynthe-enima. I tried spelling "obstinate" a half dozen ways to appease the robotic task-master in my silver Powerbook.
Obstinite? No. Obstanate? No. Obstonate? Obstanite? NO NO NO!! It screamed at me. I SO wanted to smack the little fucking bitch, I was like "HEY, you don't talk to me that way. I may not know how to spell Ob-staahhh-nnnaaaeeet but I'm still the author here, I am still the boss. You know what, YOU'RE obstinate, you little shit. You need a time out" I told my Mac, and I sat it down in the corner.
Then I got up and gingerly made my way to my Oxford English Dictionary. BOTH volumes. Yeah, I did. Then I pulled out volume two, flipped to page one thousand nine hundred and seventy, column two, and whaddya' fucking KNOW, third entry down is the word
Spelled ex-act-a-fucking-ly like I had spelled it the very first God damn time. Initially, I swooned with...
Denial. This can't be right. My Mac wouldn't mock me that way. My Mac is my rock. Mac wouldn't...it couldn't... be ignorant of a word as simple, as basic, as "obstinate." Then, denial shifted to
Anger. You twisted Mother FUCKER!!! How DARE my Powerbook G4 give me the 'what's for'? The NERVE, the bravado, the impudent gall. I should smash that silver smart ass into a billion bits, scrap that crappy lap top. But anger, my friends, is not a core emotion. It's a decoy. I yanked its mask from my heart, and to my dismay, discovered a truer ache. Desperate, I began to
Bargain. I bargained with Steve Jobs. If I could only have another lap top, another Powerbook, one with an expanded spell check, Word, if I were given one ...more... chance, I wouldn't blow it. How could I have been so cavalier? Please... I'd give anything, I'll donate my penis to science, I'll stop eating beluga (so much), I'll never rape another kitten, I'll... but then just as soon as the bargaining had begun, it faded too. And I was left in a gaping hole of
Depresssion. The dark night of the technological soul, a linguistic leviathan, casting an occlusion so sweeping, not even the memory of light remained. I wept. I cried. I self-medicated with anal digital stimulation. Then, a crack. No, not my crack, but a dim beacon in the distance, what... what was it? God? An angel? A train? Friends, it was my very own
Acceptance, come to brighten my being with its simple, groundless awareness. Acceptance, of reality as it is. My Mac does not know how to spell "Obstinate". But you know what? That's OK, that's the way it is. I am bare acceptance, simple awareness. I have a defective, piece of shit, deficient spell check. I am not my defective, piece of shit, deficient spell check. What is this acceptance, this infinite equanimity that I AM? Always, already awake. I am unborn, but I perform abortions. I have no qualities, but I fucking dig the Design Within Reach catalogue. I am unmade, but I make people sick. I can't be acquired or gained, but a thank you now and then couldn't hurt, you sycophantic sucklings. My tits are sore from lactating pearly nourishment into your undeserving gullets. How 'bout a little something back at me? Godhead wants a boat. Get on it.
