December 1st, 2006

bear by san

in your head in your head they're still quite dead.


That's what's been wrong with me.

I'm trying to do too much.

...yanno, you would think I wouldn't need this reminder more than twice a year, but apparently I only have two modes: run full out and fall down and moan.

And I mean, generally, it works for me.

The problem is that every so often, I get extremely avoidant. And I can push myself through it for a month or so. And then I get so avoidant that as soon as I sit down to work, I find myself getting up to do something else, or websurfing, or whatever.

And eventually, I have to find something completely mindless to occupy myself for a few days. Like a Man from UNCLE marathon. Or twenty-seven episodes of Iron Chef back to back. Or cleaning the closets.

...or reorganizing my completely hopeless music collection so that I can find what I want to listen to, instead of looking in three different hard drives in six different folders, or trying to figure out what itunes, that bane of my existence, has done with something. (The evil of itunes is that once you do the instant gratification thing, and download something you only want as a single, and dammit I am not buying an entire Diesel album just to get "Sausalito Summer Nights," no! then you are locked in. Because youc an only play stuff you download through iTunes with iTunes. Even though it's a crappy user-insipid interface and it puts things in weird places. (Every song in Jesus Christ Superstar in a different folder? The Fuck!?) )

And my computer is my primary music-playing intrument. (Back in the old days, I was notorious for shedding mix tapes everywhere I went. Ah, playlists. Playlists are like mix tapes without the commitment.)

So anyway, I spent all day yesterday collating my music collection and sorting things and getting rid of duplicates (still some work to do there, but no, I didn't need all three rips of the From Hell score, no matter how much I love Trevor Jones), and today I am burning everything I have through iTunes to CD and re-ripping it, so that I can play it in winamp, a far superior program.

Because I have the thumbs, you computer, and I will decide.

Anyway, I was doing the final sorting last night between the hours of ten and two AM. And my friends were helping me sort artists by genre. Genre being defined as "things I will probably be in the mood for at the same time" rather than anything sensible. (It's Baynesian, you see--once you decide that Depeche Mode is in fact "Gothy and Overwrought" rather than "Eurotrash," you know exactly where Echo and the Bunnymen go. Also, once you have established a "Gitar Ghods" category so you have someplace to put the Clapton, then obviously The Firm and Cream and Derek and the Dominos. And the Zappa. Because where the heck else are you going to put Zappa, unless you have a "Funky Weird-Ass Geniuses" category just for him?)

Anyway, this is what I have so far, though I'm contemplating the potential need for a "Chrome" category.

Or maybe just a playlist.

Collapse )

In any case, the stories have started bugging me again, so I know it's working. But I think I'm giving myself until Monday anyway.

And now I'm going to go take a shower and drink some coffee and outsmart Apple.


The Hare
wicked fairy bowie

Outside the rain and your heart skips a beat.

I might need an intervention.

I found the Stevie Nicks. And I'm earwormed.

And I now have a theory. I suspect that it's her fault that paranormal romance and the smutty subcategory of urban fantasy sell so well among women in my age group. I think we all collectively imprinted on Bella Donna (and Labyrinth, and Beauty and the Beast) as preteens.

To the heterosexual males of my generation: on behalf of my sex, I apologize for any unrealistic expectations we've all generated from early exposure to Ron Perlman in tights.

Mmm. Ron Perlman in tights.

...I'm sorry. Where were we?

Creature of the night
It's been almost a week.
Could you love me only?

bear by san

just some spam before I go--

Blender discusses the 50 worst rock and pop bands in history, with a good deal of snark. While I don't entirely agree with their choices (A list like this without Hootie and the Blowfish seems like a failure in judgement) the snark is exceedingly funny.


The sound of eunuchs sobbing

Disproving the theory that lightning never strikes twice in the same place, Air Supply contained not one but two mewling, lovesick softies whose name was Russell. In the early ’80s, the Australian duo’s gutless ballads — music so remorselessly fey it made Journey sound like Danzig — sent a generation of jilted lovers toppling into depression that was as clinical as the Russells’ music. Mercifully, though, by the end of the decade, the pair had cried themselves to sleep.

Appalling fact: Determined to ruin the festive season, Air Supply once recorded a Christmas album.
Worst CD: The Christmas Album (Arista, 1987)