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
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Irving housing

got that wrong

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(nobody does!)

Like my brownhouse:
   a Biography Channel afternoon
Sunday, April 29 2001
I don't know when I got up this morning, but whenever I did, all I wanted to do was immediately lie back down again and remain as motionless as possible. I planted myself firmly beneath a blanket on the alley couch downstairs and watched what my housemate John was watching, a sneak preview of the sort of shows that will be coming to a new cable channel called the Biography Chanbel. For his part, John was tucked away beneath a blanket on the red velvet couch, like me, as motionless as possible. The hour-long biographies were so engrossingly addictive that there seemed little reason to do anything but watch them. First there was one about Jimi Hendrix, then one about Janis Joplin. About Janis Joplin, John said, "She's sort of whiskey drinking, blues singing, southern version of Björk." I could definitely see the resemblance. Her intelligence and charisma came across well even in those grainy old segments of film.
John was sad to have to leave during the middle of a special about the history of LSD, but he had a kid he needed to tutor. Before the depressing part about the crackdown on Timothy Leary, I went off and took a bath. I was sleepy when I got out of the water so I lay down to take a nap.
When I woke up it was pitch black outside and late, I mean, like 11 or 12 o'clock late. I'd finished none of the stuff I'd wanted to get done today, so I decided to motivate myself, no matter the time. Part of what I'd wanted to do was some messageboard work for the UK site. So I rode my bike to my workplace and slaved away for about three or four hours, moving databases, adding entity association features, and tweaking publication tool colors. My nerves were badly frayed, so as I worked, I sipped Dr. Pepper spiked with vodka. I can program fairly well when I'm mildly drunk, though I've noticed that marijuana completely destroys any programming talents I may have; one needs excellent short-term memory in order to write code.

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