Your leaking thatched hut during the restoration of a pre-Enlightenment state.


Hello, my name is Judas Gutenberg and this is my blaag (pronounced as you would the vomit noise "hyroop-bleuach").


decay & ruin
Biosphere II
dead malls
Irving housing

got that wrong

appropriate tech
Arduino μcontrollers
Backwoods Home
Fractal antenna

fun social media stuff

(nobody does!)

Like my brownhouse:
   the company everybody/anybody bar
Friday, February 4 2000
I was tired & uninspired all day at work. The only thing interesting that happened during the work day happened when a small group of us went over to the top of the adjacent tower to see the new digs of product & engineering, where we'll be moving on Monday. Evidently this new place used to be a grand suite of attorney offices. It's characterized by fancy columns, extensive marble inlays, high decorative ceilings, and, best of all, exclusive access to the roof, with its commanding ninth-floor view of downtown.
After work, I was already kind of buzzed from the three beers I'd drunk during the weekly motivational ritual of Energy. I went with Kevin the DBA, Jason the guy who sits next to me, and Nichelle from E-commerce into the Gaslamp District to a fancy place whose floor plan seemed designed to limit usable floor space. We found a few guys from sales & corporate development down there, drinking & celebrating their string of recent stunning successes. They were sworn to secrecy about their multi-million dollar deals, though they were perfectly willing to whisper the details into our ears.
Eventually the Grand Pooh Bah himself showed up, and he jokingly asked me what was the pseudonym I use for him in "that thing you do." "Grand Pooh Bah!" I shouted, and we all laughed and lifted our glasses.
Before long, everybody who was anybody in the company was there, drinking and buying drinks and talking with just anyone else in the company, even people who don't normally communicate. It felt sort of like the old days of a year ago, when our company was fifty people and everybody knew everybody else and I never thought I'd ever actually see any of my stock options vest.
The waitress made sure I never went for long without a glass of booze in my hand, no matter how drunk I was getting. So before I left, I gave her a $20 tip, cash. Hanging out with all these wheeling/dealing corporate development types had me feeling a vicarious high-roller buzz.
I don't remember the walk back to the office or the songs I sang at the tops of my lungs. I remember this guy Todd (a fellow Obecian) drove me home and hung out briefly in my place while I played Cyclefly (he liked Bush so I thought I'd play him something similar). During the middle of this, Kim called from Detroit (she's at her granny's funeral) and I bitched at her for not leaving me her car keys. When she tried to call back, I buried the phone in bubble wrap and passed out with Sophie in bed.

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