In speaking of art, we often refer solely to the traditional forms: visual arts, performance, etcetera. But isn't it time we liberated ourselves? John Cage argued that we should hear music in everything: in the silences, the ambient sounds of cars and chatter in the streets, the clunk of a piano slamming shut. Why should other arts be any different?

For this week's Arts & Leisure section, I've thoughtfully included a number of pieces that challenge the dominant categories within which we neatly pigeonhole "art."

In this contemplation of the Waffle House, for example, the author discovers that the nationwise breakfast joint contains qualities as mystical as any respected work of architecture. Why, I myself visited the Waffle House the other day and was impressed by the razzle-dazzle antics of the cook, who danced a jig when I played a quaint jukebox selection (see sidebar). He then wittily threatened to squirt me with the hose he was using to blast grime off of the floor if I selected any more such tunes. Why shouldn't his dance be considered art? Or his threat?

And isn't it time we dispensed with the bourgeois notion that only on a regular canvas, in an acclaimed gallery, deserves our attention? Why shouldn't art be inked upon the very bodies within which we live, or sprayed on the outsides of buildings where we work? This review explores those questions further. Another exhibit, commemorating the beauty of Harley-Davidson motorcycles, demonstrates that art can be a matter of not only representation but lifestyle. Imagine that!

Speaking of lifestyle, I've smartly integrated this quintessential guide to overcoming hangovers. This will prove exceedingly useful for those of you who are actually taking me seriously, since I imagine you must be quite blitzed.

According to my editor, I'm to say "brand-new Cadillac." Having done so, I now bid you farewell.