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").



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   searching for a city
Thursday, February 17 2000
Sometimes it takes what appears to be divine intervention to get someone out of the rut that he is in. With me, more often than not, it's my subconscious doing all the work for me, making me an unbearable & insensitive lover so I lose that dreadful girlfriend, making me the oddest & most cantankerous employee on staff so I'm fired by that grandeur-delusional startup corporation, making me give a drunken tour of that co-operative gallery (which isn't managing to sell any of my paintings) so they kick me out.
But for Kim and me, something very similar to divine intervention has suddenly changed everything in our lives. She found out today that she can complete her Masters Somatics program over the internet, meaning she has no special reason for remaining in San Diego. Since her Masters Program was the precise reason we came out here in the first place, we suddenly find ourselves with no reason to be in this town. There's no real culture here, and even the weather isn't all that we'd thought it would be. As if begging us to stay, San Diego weather has actually been wonderful ever since the beginning of winter, but today it was dreary and cold.
Kim and I decided to pull a Rory and place our fate in the hands of chance. We gave a city identity to each of a half dozen Tarot cards: San Francisco, New Orleans, New York, Toronto, Los Angeles and Charlottesville. Then we picked three at random and narrowed our focus to those: Toronto, New York and New Orleans. I have no idea why Toronto was in the running (don't people live in igloos there?), but the cards pointed most powerfully to Toronto. We preferred New York since our chums Lisa & Josh are there and Josh could probably hook me up with a job as a Cold Fusion/MySQL Developer at Bla-bla.com. But Kim mostly wanted to return to New Orleans, at least for most of this morning. She even called a real estate agent there to find out about commercial spaces and proximity to anything internet-related. Evidently there's not a lot of internet going on in funky old New Orleans; her real estate agent's idea of high tech was something along the lines of an office park adjacent to a military base. So Kim sighed and said, "86 New Orleans."
It was like this all day as Kim went back and forth between various places where she felt she might want to live. Expense was no object; she figures that our income will increase out of proportion to any increase in rent.


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