Posthuman Blues

It's extremely gray (if gray can be "extreme") and drizzly. The lights in my living room are all out except for my reading lamp, which is casting dramatic shadows. In the kitchen, David Lynch is setting up a camera and muttering about ambience.

I finished Nietzsche's book: not too illuminating. Now I'm back on track with John Keel and Peter Watts, who has considerately pointed out to me that bands can and will charge big money for using their lyrics. I was planning on using a verse from R.E.M.'s "The Lifting" as an epigraph in my Mars book (and suppose I still will if I receive permission), but didn't realize how staunchly the music industry protected its property. I honestly don't see the difference between using a lyric as an epigraph and briefly quoting from a nonfiction source as long as credit is given. It's not as if readers are going to purchase my book based on the merits of Michael Stipe's songwriting skill... Then again, I bought Tom Robbins' "Skinny Legs and All" partly because of the epigraphs (Kafka and R.E.M., respectively).

David says he's ready to start shooting. This is going to be bigger than "Blue Velvet"!