I Can't Believe Steve Jobs Will Never Give Another Apple Keynote Because Not Existing Is Impossible To Think
I was just now sitting here—swear to God—on the fence between making coffee and masturbating when it struck me like a Biblical revelation that I could start brewing a pot, furiously masturbate, and race the coffee to completion. That’s the kind of thing I do when I want to write but don’t know what to write about. I flip coins. Roll dice. Talk to myself. And masturbate.
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The coffee continues to percolate. I remain undefeated.
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I didn’t know what to write about and then Steve Jobs died. When I heard that Steve Jobs died, I felt goofy. That part is key. The goofy feeling. I felt goofy when Michael Jackson died too, and Gary Coleman. But I don’t know why I felt goofy and I’m not at all certain about the substance of my goofy feelings. Then I knew: I had something to write about. The very best things to write about are the things you don’t know. Because writing, when it is brave and careful, is where the unknown attempts to sneak a peek through the blinders.
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Twitter erupted. Okay. Fine, man. People really, really, really want to say nice things about dead people. However, everyone also secretly wants to be the person who says the very most super nicest thing about the dead person in question. He was an innovator. A visionary. His imagination brought us closer together. Steve Jobs was like family. He was bigger than The Beatles when The Beatles were bigger than Jesus. Just wait 3 days, dude. Steve Jobs’ll be back with the iResurrect.
But I wasn’t compelled to say nice things about Steve Jobs. I didn’t feel warmly reminiscent. I felt goofy.
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It occurred to me that I would never see Steve Jobs reveal shiny new technological masterpieces at Apple Keynotes again. Never. It wasn’t a vacation, a break, or a brief hiatus. It was over. And when your mind tries to swallow and digest that definitive word, to grapple with it and find closure with what it signifies, to really wrap itself around never in a complete way, to fully come to terms with what it means and to seal it off in a place that understands, it just doesn’t fucking work. I mean. What the fuck can never possibly mean? Steve Jobs will never take another shower. He’ll never send another text message. He’ll never have another startling insight into the future of technology or scratch his balls ever again. Steve Jobs is done brushing his teeth and pointing at things that capture his attention. He’ll never again be thirsty and quench his thirst with a big glass of cold water and a slice of lime. Steve Jobs won’t eat or breathe or think or wonder or dream ever again in his life because Steve Jobs is dead, man.
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There’s a way we can understand these things that makes them seem obvious. But it’s not very thoughtful. I mean. When’s the last time you sat down and wondered in a sincere way about the day you take your last shower, never to shower again? It simply can’t be done. It can’t be thought. Because the moment you begin to think about never being again, you’re unavoidably thinking with concepts that presuppose being to make sense of not being. The notion of not being is all bound up with its contradictory relation to being itself and, I confess, this makes me feel really fucking goofy. Never can only exist on the other side of time, a place not readily available for exploration by the chronological processes of thought.
Look. I can never not possibly be. Until I don’t. And then imagine how happy the rain will be when it pours once again into the joyous ocean.
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Rest, Steve Jobs, whatever that might mean or not. You made us great shiny gadgets. You made us feel goofy.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Reader Comments (9)
I don't know if everyone wants to say the most profound thing. Some of us are relieved to find a topic that we can all join in about. Why do we care more about the death of this man than that of a starving child? Maybe some of us are counting on our fingers to see how long it will be until we are 56. But you are right. None of us can escape death. And to go on living, we kind of need to pretend that we can.
I really enjoyed this. From top to bottom.
After I heard that Steve Jobs was dead, I was in the bathroom, peeing, and I had this very clear and somewhat horrifying thought that yesterday at some point or the day before or whatever, Steve Jobs had his last pee. At some point, he peed, and did he think, "Oh, this is the last time I'll ever pee." Was he aware? I mean, I have no idea how lucid he was at the end. Maybe he was peeing into a bag, unaware that he was peeing. Maybe he stopped peeing on Sunday. I really don't know and I'm certain I never will because I hope the books written about him leave that detail out. I don't even want to know.
But while I was peeing, it felt very poignant, this idea of the last time. I kind of felt torn out of myself for a moment by grief, I felt almost like crying. Then I laughed at myself because really, of all the last things you could do, would the last pee really resonate much or at all. Then I started worrying, "Christ, I hope this is not MY last pee. Maybe that's why I'm thinking about last pees." It kind of unravelled from there, like things do when you mull them over too much.
It will probably be a while before I can pee without thinking of Steve Jobs. I'm sorry that's true, but it is.
My mom died of pan can 3 yrs ago. I remember when she had to have a tube put in her stomach to empty the contents bc the tumor didn't allow anything to pass from stomach to intestines . . . the nurse was explaining how you can't get the tube wet, and my mom got this look of shock on her face and said, "You mean I'll never go swimming again?" I just remember being so surprised that that was what she was thinking about in the last weeks or days of her life. It makes me sad to think that she didn't get that one last time; or she didn't know that the last time was the last time. Never is definitely a difficult concept to grasp and probably a great motivator to keep us going.
i'm still not entirely sure why i was teary-eyed about steve jobs's death and reading this got me feeling goofy all over again. some of us may never know if it's the last walk, the last piss, the last dip in the pool, and i don't think about it much, but this made me do just that and i'm not entirely comfortable with the flutter in my chest when i do think about it. i'm much too selfish to think about death, including my own. so i'll stop now.
I resisted saying anything about Steve dying because it occurred to me right away that I don't feel anything about his death outside if the superficial empathy I have for people who suffer before dying. What I felt empty about was the potential loss of future shiny gadgets.
Then I realized that most humans only revere genius until the next genius fills the void (har, I made an Apple pun that was truly not intended).
So, I'm gonna save my RIPs and keep an eye on the horizon.
Beautiful writing, as always. And impressive cock vs. coffee racing.
I liked this post, alot.
The idea of lasts, leading right back into the idea of firsts...because inevitably, it all starts over again, somewhere, perhaps on a different stratosphere and perhaps a different arrangement of molecules, but it does start over.
I've had a weird weekend, found out my Mom was cancer free for the first time in 4 years. I'm quite sure she's thought alot about lasts during the course of these past 4 years. Funny thing is that I never stopped and allowed myself to consider she could be doing her last anything. Now, with some distance and the safety of a clean scan, I can see quite clearly how close to the edge she got.
I think about this (not existing) all the time. Even little things like you mentioned, like brushing teeth. It almost forces me to live in an always depressed state of mind. But I eventually get tired or I bore myself trying to talk about it with someone else. It's calming to know you exist, or rather, that other people out there think like this. I mean, I searched "Steve jobs will never breathe", and "I can't believe Steve Jobs is dead" to get here. But now I sleep.
Great post.