11.17.07
Pith, the moral fiber of a plant, conflict or commitment…, the brutal act of severing the spinal cord of farm animals, slashing the lifeline of vegetation, beast or mankind.
Vulnerability tucked away deep into the fleshy core of a breathing vehicle, shielded by the façade of protection, whether it’s leafy green, unprocessed leather or thin naked skin, pith is penetrable. The cellular brains behind the waxy rind, the brittle bone or coarse hide of perseverance create the will of existence, or are crushed like an insect. That is what pith as a noun, a thing, is.
Then there is the action, to pith, the slaughtering of cattle by the cruel method of slashing the taut rope of nerves binding the vertebrae together, detaching the backbone from its futile life. The disconnect of the central artery of the nervous system, a death that undoubtedly leaves the body in a moment of spastic paralysis before the last frantic messages of distress can reach hoofed limbs. In a more flowery sense, to pith a plant is to remove the sticky inner tissue or sweet fruit.
But fuck all that, this is the Twenty-First Century, and it is long past due that pith is modernized, as a noun, as an action, and most importantly, as an unflinching understanding of the current situation that all of us face today. Whether we like it or not, the pith of humanity as we, proud Americans, know it today is so polluted and electrified that it is a far, far cry from any virtuous fiber of morality, be it in plant or man. As a word that hardly exists within a context of understanding for most people, a vague botany term, a description of vigor and an outdated act of butchery, pith is being redefined.
Pith is a forgotten identifier of true grit, a never say die mentality fueled by an inner determination blinded with overcoming the immediate looming obstacle that needs to be conquered. An unavoidable voice of the social and personal raven, pith is the squawking conscience that skeptically perches on the windowsill of the perpetually weaving world-wide-web, and spits down a shower of acid-rain reality and bloodied tears.
And so much for all of that high floating philosophical bullshit, because definitions are useless unless they are conceivable within the easily relatable and boring parameters of what is commonly referred to as “real life.” So, after that roundabout ramble of a possibly meaningless introduction…let us get into our pith.
Johnny Dick
