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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Like my brownhouse:
   the rubric I call special occasions
Wednesday, March 3 2004
Lately I have been trying to obey my body when it tells me that it wants to be awake or that it wants to be asleep. In the past I would dictate these cycles with the brute force of household chemistry: caffeine, alcohol, or, when I when I felt the need for exceptional ambition, pseudoephedrine. But an interesting this has happened as I've given my body the freedom to sleep whenever it wants. I've been staying up late, getting up early, and taking long naps in the afternoon. Today my nape began after dark and lasted until 11:30pm. I would have napped earlier, but this afternoon I was out on a housecall dealing with a client who is also a friend of the family. That's the worst kind of client, because such people inevitably try to socialize and chit chat when all you want to do is get in, get the work done, and get out. I wish I could come up with some sort of special policy for such clients, but I can't think what it would be. Maybe it would involve alcohol somehow.
I still love alcohol and enjoy drinking it, but (as with caffeine) I've decided to reserve it for special occasions so I can enjoy it even more. For the time being, the rubric I call "special occasions" no longer includes such mundane events as the end of a day, dinner at home, or the middle of a Saturday afternoon.

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