loving you is every bit as fine
as coming over a hill into the sun
at ninety miles an hour darling when
it’s dawn and you can hear the stars unlocking
themselves from the designs of god beneath
the disintegrating orchestra of my black
chevrolet. the radio clings to an un-
identified station – somewhere a tango suffers,
and the dance floor burns around two lovers
whom nothing can touch – no, not even death!
oh! the acceleration with which my heart does proceed,
reaching like stars almost but never quite
of light the speed of light the speed of light.

-denis johnson

the artist formerly known as prince & denis johnson – the only men i know of who can compare a woman to a car & get away with it.

i read this on the bus this morning:

“human beings invented original sin because the alternative hypothesis was worse. better to be at the center of a universe whose terrors are all a direct result of our own failings, than to be helpless victims of random and largely malevolent forces.”

-a.s. byatt, from babbel tower

yup, i think that pretty much sums up christianity. being the recovering catholic that i am, i can’t really speak for other world religions, but i think byatt hit the nail on the head with that one.

paul & i were having an argument last night about blur’s new image, or lack thereof, & i was amusing myself with the pun that blur’s new image was a bit blurry, & that got me thinking about the whole issue of marketing & music, & the media product that IS pop music, (hey, not that we don’t all need a little aqua in our lives now & then), & then i was trying to recall these lyrics:

people used to make records
as in a record of an event
the event of people playing music in a room
now everything is cross-marketing
its about sunglasses & shoes
or guns & drugs
you choose

-ani difranco, from fuel

gloomy grey weather sucks. i suspect i’m one of the millions of americans who suffer from seasonal affective disorder, since my moods swing like a pendulum clock during the winter.
my day: got up, ate eggos, read the paper. turns out that humans only have about 3,000 genes rather than the expected 10,000+. the human genome project guys, who were expected to lay out a map of humanity at a press conference tomorrow morning, are stumped as to why we’re so darn complex since we only have twice as many genes as a fruit fly. i say score one for nature. apparently the scientists working on this project have a ‘gene pool’ – whoever guesses the correct number of genes in the human dna wins $200. haha.

my roommate, the cleaning nazi, is vacuuming the bookshelves. i have to leave.

we’ve been having freaky weather all week. last weekend it was 70 degrees & all of san francisco was breaking out the spagetti straps. since tuesday it’s been about 35 degrees, & alternates between sunny & pouring rain & hail in regular, fifteen-minute cycles. very apocalyptic, particularly with the full moon. it’s tripping zeke out. at the moment he’s making laps around the room: climb curtains, attack pillows, use jen’s hand as spring board, check on the weather, up the bookshelf, nibble on phil the wonder plant, & back to the curtains, all with his ears laid back along his head & eyes flashing. he’s not really fearless: he fears my roommate’s boots with a fervor that approaches religion. john swears he’s never kicked him, but i have my suspicions.

we begin.
a girl: twenty-something, aspiring stage director, middle child. her fearless companion: zeke, eternally disgruntled, tiger stripped, fetch-cat. location: sf apartment, fabulous paint job, lazy landlord, no heat. the impetus: the human need to express, connect, explain.