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:
   spanning the web world
Thursday, August 24 2000
Today I got an instant message from my boss Linda which seemed to be continuing an argument about Beck visa vis Silverlake that we had evidently been having. The odd thing about this was that we hadn't actually been arguing about Beck at all. The instant message appeared entirely unprovoked. As I typed out my response, I felt a nervous dread rising in me. This could mean only one thing.
Sure enough, there it was, the evidence in my logs, a hit from a machine in my workplace to my online journal's front page, a hit that clearly had not come from my specific machine. This is the sort of thing I've been trying to avoid, though I've been well aware that this was bound to happen eventually. There are just too many people reading my site for me to rely on their discretion. People in the web world know others in the web world. The degrees of separation spanning the whole thing come to maybe two or three. It's too small of a scene for me to lurk anonymously within it. My descriptions of Linda have been such that anyone who knows her would recognize her from them. (This has already happened with my descriptions of my German colleague K_____, but in that case the reader was kind enough to only tell me.)
Lucky for me, I actually like Linda and have never written anything bad about her. Beyond that, I like my job, the company I work for and the work I do. While the late CollegeCub featured a fascist cultlike environment that demanded unflattering documentation, my present workplace is vastly more benign. There's essentially nothing of interest to say about it.
After Linda fessed up to the motivation for her instant message and I'd expressed my shock to the revelation, she was filled with remorse, swearing she wouldn't read any more if I didn't want her to. I told her I didn't mind her reading so long as she didn't react. That has always been my policy, even if many (including Kim) have refused to abide by it.
Linda felt so bad about the whole thing that she treated me to a lunch of burgers & fries at The Shack on Wilshire & 26th Street. I get the feeling she's more intrigued than horrified, which is sort of what I'd expect from her. By the way, Linda is adamant with her contention that "The Beck/Silverlake thing is a myth." She knows this, she says, because Julian (the youthful Operations Manager) is related to Beck in some way. (Someone once told me that the kids in Hanson are also related to Beck. It might be one of those "this dresser came over on the Mayflower" sort of things - if you add up all the people who are half brothers or second cousins of Beck, it doesn't leave enough people in America to be his living ancestors.)

In the evening I rode with K___ to Venice so I can visit my former girlfriend Kim. We've decided that I should help her with her site (yeah I know it still looks shitty in Netscape!) as part of the repayment plan for the money she put into the downpayment on the condo. When I arrived I found both Mario and Robert, the erstwhile Dr. Suzy Block animatronics/general handyman crew, hanging out drinking wine. [REDACTED]

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