I wish I didn't care about identifying genre.

Really. I find, when I download or burn new music to my computer, or when I'm discussing it, I want to be able to pin it down, if only a bit. In conversation, I don't mind imprecision, because there's room for it, and it can be explained. But when it comes to MP3 labels or the like, where they want a single entry, damnit. That is so frustrating. How the hell am I supposed to label Joy Division (who straddles punk, post-punk, new wave, and proto-goth) , Television (with similar and even wider conflicts), or the vast swath of R&B/Jump-blues/Rock-&-roll artists? Bah. It gets worse dealing with small scene stuff, with all the crazy sub and cross genre work.

And the silly thing is I don't even think genre classification matters all that much. I think arguments about whether electronic music should be called 'house', 'techno', 'drumb and bass' (all genres or sub-genres unto themselves, as well as blanket terms in certain communities), 'EDM', or whatever is fucking stupid. Who the fuck cares?

Fie.

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For Every Problem, a Solution (4)

God as depicted throughout the ages. No Alanis Morissette, and, no, that isn't ironic.

An introduction to a book that doesn't exist:

Prose and verse are generally accepted as distinct writing formats with their own rules, styles, and grammars. Though their borders are somewhat vague, they have come to be seen as something of a dichotomy in the eyes of the general public. There are, however, at least 3 other popular approaches to writing as exhibited in picture-books, comicbooks, and plays. Though sometimes given short shrift, these styles are accepted as literature. They are included in libraries, book stores, and academic study. Most importantly, they are read. In the general case, there is clearly writing being done in the creation of any one of these. But what of the wordless comic or silent play? Should we consider scripts written, but fully realized plays, comics, and picture-books, to be performance, art, or some other kind of non-literature? These worries of theory are kinks to be worked out, surely, but they are not of immediate practical concern to the writer...

My room is a mess, my painting unfinished.

...and I still haven't found a good alternative to my scanner with its missing power-cord. Almost finished with this painting, though. I just need to put in a bus seat in front of and behind the passenger. Incidentally, the Seattle Metro buses have the ugliest upholstery I can remember seeing, and I spent five years working at a used furniture store.

Pointless Man

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