finda the pope inna the pizza

well, he's 78. maybe he'll die before he can do too much damage. i have to say that i don't get the logic in forbidding condoms when the direct result is that potential followers DIE. but then, the logic of organized religion in general kinda escapes me.

did you know that the word "catholic" means "universal"?

i are a grownup

when i was a kid, i thought being a grownup would be a Good Thing, 'cause then i would be the subject instead of the object. but it turns out that being a grownup also means that there's nobody mediating between you and the rest of the world. my parents always stood between me and the world, and i perceived this as obstruction rather than protection. but ever since i've been out here, naked, i see that it was always both.

i feel sad and angry and lonely today. yesterday i picked a fight with one of the nicest people at work. today i had to go and talk with her and apologize, which in a way was really easy to do, because i am sincerely sorry. mortified, even. i knew yesterday that i was being a jerk, but i just couldn't seem to interrupt the escalation from peevish to complete asshole. so, today i made amends.

i'm grateful that i know how to make amends. i'm grateful that i can tell when amends are called for. i'm grateful for people in my life who have taught me those things.

the paris pair

got a phonecall from jean yesterday -- they arrived safely, slept for 14 hours, and are in fine form. anne casey can't stop smiling and is thus somewhat terrifying to the natives. dunno when they'll have internet access as j is understandably reluctant to plug the computer into the outlet that went snap crackle pop and melted part of the surge protector. a visit to the paris apple store is planned for the near future. i'm trying to visualize the combination of apple coolth and french chic; perhaps everything is black instead of white.

a shock to the system

welp. i put jean and the fabulous anne casey on BART at high noon yesterday. they were beautiful in their delight and excitement: two of the finest people i've ever met. jean, who was slightly out of her mind with fatigue, couldn't stop grinning, and kept mumbling, "omigod, anne, we're totally going to france."

it fills some hollow place in me to see my loved ones happy. imagine water trickling in and filling an underground cavern: lovely, quiet, and a bit echo-y.

unknowable things

i stumbled across the blog of someone i really admire, and it got me to thinking about fame. it must be really weird to be famous, the sort of famous where you have fans, fan being short for "fanatic", since lordess knows, fanaticism doesn't usually turn out that well. ("Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!")

but there you are, the lights or the cameras in your face, and somewhere out past where you can see, evidently there are a bunch of people whose emotions you are, all unwitting, poking with a sharp stick. you don't know how your words or actions are gonna fall on their ears.

a friend of mine once dated peter buck from R.E.M. back in their mumbly jangly beginning days. she was hanging out with the band a lot, and i asked her to ask michael stipe for me, 'doesn't it bother to think that your lyrics often can't be heard or understood through the music?' he looked at her, puzzled, and said, 'why would i care about that?'

huh. so, like, artists make art for themselves, not necessarily to communicate with other people? that had not occurred to me. thank you, michael.

in fact, we're all famous: every day we are walk-ons, extras in other peoples' movies. and we just never know how our performance is going to be received. that kind or cruel off-handed remark, letting that old lady in the big caddy cut in front of you with a friendly wave 'stead of a scowl, smiling at a certain toddler, thanking the toll-booth operator, blogging your own wacky version of What Is True.... ripples, baby. we're all making ripples, all the time.

i'm doing that thing again

...where i notice that even when i'm lying in bed, i'm holding myself up off the surface, muscles tight, shoulders high. poised to spring? to flee? to fall?

it's as if i expect the bed's not going to hold me up. as if, as one of my clients might say, "gravity might turn off. just because it didn't do that yesterday...."

i do this on the massage table, too.

i'm doing it right this minute.

for the 30 seconds it takes me to systematically, deliberately relax each part of my body, i sink into the mattress. as soon as my thoughts turn to something else -- vrrrrrrrrrrp! i'm reminded of the b kliban cartoon illustrating the Anti-Jump Muscles; one panel shows a business-suited man standing still, and is captioned "Flexed"; the other panel shows the guy leaping into the air with arms akimbo, and is captioned "Relaxed."

gods, i loved kliban. i couldn't find a copy of the anti-jump muscles cartoon, but this is along the same lines.