St. Inquisitive

I could have, couldn’t I? I wish I had. Why didn’t I? What was I thinking? (Before you go there, neuroscientists long ago demonstrated no difference between thinking and feeling.) Having gone that far, having done such doings, said such words, I could have hit the brakes, paused, slowed down, or — gasp! — come to a stop, sure, a rolling stop, the kind cops give tickets for, but a stop nevertheless, even if the word and the action were adorned in demurring, qualifying quotation marks, in Helvetica bold ital. Or a complete stop. Stop right there. On the other hand, in the other brain hemisphere, what if I couldn’t have? Given who I was then, the accumulated detritus and virtue coursing through my blood making me who I was in that time and place, who is to say those parameters allowed any choice whatsoever? With that notion percolating, go back, rewind the tape, as in the days of reel-to-reel tape recorders, and record again, record over the first take, what we now call overwrite or reboot in computer parlance, and say, “I couldn’t have, couldn’t I?” And the absurdly laughable Samuel Beckettish logic-and-illogic shotgun marriage of it all says, What’s the difference? Tell me, tell them, tell us the difference between could and couldn’t, between did and didn’t. I fail to fathom, plumb or plunder, any real or imagined difference. You vehemently shout: Of course, it makes a difference, it makes all the difference in the world, your world. Says you. I’m not playing with belly-button lint here. I’m not semantically self-abusing here (to use the lusciously lubricious term the Roman Catholic pre-Confession Examen of Conscience employed in the days of my seminary youth, etymological pun intended. Is there anything more oxymoronic than “self-abuse” as a term applied to self-administered pleasure? Can any two fused words say more about a generation? It is LOVL [laugh out very loud] now but not then, when we needed a St. Portnoy to save us). But I digress, and not because of perfume from a dress, Mr. Prufrock. Or do I digress? This metaphysical monologue, this diction-ated debate, on could vs. couldn’t is no dodge, no escape from responsibility. It’s an honest question twinned in pain and peril: Could I have gone another way? Could I not have gone another way? With or without the “not,” it’s the same question. Alas, after all this, after every self-administered midnight polygraph exam, after infinite Torquemada auto-interrogations on rack and ruin, I am finally brave enough to cry, Tighten the screws, have at it, boiling oil and all, ask it from every angle and in every tone of voice! 

I can’t for the life of me answer Yes or No.

And I blithely shout, It doesn’t matter.

texting one two three

the text text texts Scripture scripture stuttering writing the writing the word words wording string of semantic syllables passage extract narrative pretext context line lines nonverbal unspoken legible utterance utterances legible illegible indefinable posit of posing etymological energy of imprecise embedded thought would be thought inked inkling of linked intuition articulation you say text synonymous anonymous musing musings musingification beyond deeper than hermeneutics semiotics sunny cloudy composition in the infinite cloud unlouded texture texting fabricated text the text tyranny of term terminal terminology text textual silence nothing no-thing  
 

academy awards

The American Academy of Lexicographical Propriety and Rectitude hereby announces its inaugural list of American words to be purged, disappeared, nulled, sidelined, or silenced.

Roughly modeled on France's Académie française, which was founded in 1635 and is composed of 40 members, or "immortals," AALPR monitors, documents, and seeks to influence the use, both written and oral, of American English in both the English-speaking world and beyond. Although some of its members — the identities and number are a closely guarded secret — have lobbied for powers akin to a verbal guillotine, the organization wields no formal, or informal, enforcement powers, no matter how sharp its verbo-judicial blade.

Despite the cautions and warnings of linguists, lexicographers, academicians, misanthropologists et al., the Academy doggedly (yet not caninely) presses forward in its privilege-laden, quixotic quest to distill, filter, purify, purge, or protect the Mother/Father Tongue.

The Academy's charter limits the number of words for each year's list. Applying an arcane algorithm of astrological coordinates and geomagnetic metaphysical pulses, a maximum of nine words are allowed for banishment and eternal destruction.

To wit:

impact (v.)/impactful (adj.)

millennial

adulting

Kardashian

efforting

utilize

hack (n.)

empower (v.)/empowerment (n.)

bougie

Contradicting the judgmental "obliterate me" nature of the aforementioned word list, the Academy nevertheless recognizes the fluid, organic nature of language and invites readers to amend, rectify, posit, deposit, or edit the Academy's selections. Furthermore, nominations are open for 2020.