Very quick entry from work here. Just talked to Daniel on the phone -- he's over at the new place, with the Comcast guy, trying to get my TiBook to talk to the internet over our shiny new cable modem. It's being recalcitrant. I don't get it: every time I want to hook this laptop up to someone else's internet connection, I plug it in and I'm on. But every time we set up a high speed connection at home, the mac pitches a hissy fit.

I think we just have bad high speed internet karma. I must have pissed off a router in a previous life.

I just got this shiny new keyboard tray for my cubicle, and I'm not convinced that it's actually more ergonomic than my old set-up. Hmmm. It looks really cool, though.

In odd spare moments I've been reading the discussion going on in various journals and over on the Nightshade Books discussion board about "interstitial art", which seems to be the latest term for that odd unclassifiable stuff that falls between genres. I picked up an Interstitial Arts Foundation flyer at WFC, and immediately thought, in roughly this order: a)Oh, neat, I like a lot of this stuff, b)Hey, "interstitial" is a sort of handy term, maybe now we can stop arguing about whether certain works are more accurately described as "slipstream" or "magical realism" or whatever, quickly followed by c)Oh, bother, now we can all start arguing about whether given works are or are not "interstitial." Bleh.

The ensuing discussion has not changed my initial thoughts much, but has spurred some thoughts on the uses and abuses of genre and the uses and abuses of SF genre "movements". I may expand on these thoughts a bit later, but right now I have to get back to work.

And final thought: These are not bunnies. They are clearly tribbles!