Tuesday, January 22, 2013

M.C. Kiddo

Another faux pas, another day.

It turns out my super sleek system of uploading my old mix CDs onto  iTunes, and then mixing up my stash into sweet playlists and given as presents is one of many things. None of them cool.

To the ultra geeks (see Papagaard's old blog on Macs,or Hunter's articles in The Motley Fool) I am so late nineties. To the True Hipsters, I am a hipster. To the music studios, and very probably my federal government, I am a thief. To outcast friends (many of them either hipsters or True Hipsters) I am just not as good as them.

My mixes are pretty darn neato. While in my cubicle I think Optimistic thoughts, or I think some hard core gospel thoughts about there not being a god. I think them and have no ready way to express myself! I must express myself! It's a work day! I cannot blog! I cannot go and tell my love all the love that wells in my breast! The sturm! The drang! So while I admin away at the unruly world, I sort files and songs.

Files are alphabetical or chronological or by VIP. Songs are by Anais, Homicide, Oaf, Realism, and Sirena Mica. One is by the world as logic shapes it, and one is by how art organically grows it.

When I was in Moldova, I had two whole winters in which to sort my musical library. I could testify to every genre and spelling. I could verify every year of every album and write little blurbs about every band, their being -- Oh! glorious depression it was. I had the world's most organized iTunes library, and a very few other things to do.

With this idea of settling, can I have it all? Can I be productive, not depressed, and have an organized iTunes library?

Maybe if I ever get a TV. 

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