| 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").
links
decay & ruin
Biosphere II
Chernobyl
dead malls
Detroit
Irving housing
got that wrong
Paleofuture.com
appropriate tech
Arduino μcontrollers
Backwoods Home
Fractal antenna
fun social media stuff
Like asecular.com
(nobody does!)
Like my brownhouse:
Wednesday, November 26 1997
- How to make a web page reload itself and pass parameters to the next instance of itself (it's like reincarnation, but the page actually does remember stuff from its past life).
- That having DMA enabled on your CD-ROM drive's driver is a bad idea if you like to play music CDs.
- That Shareware.com has become a disingenuous piece of crap ever since it was overrun by demoware.
| F |
irst a few pictures from the ninth of this month, hanging out with my family back in my Shaque (near Staunton, Virginia):
That's my brother, Don (it's his 33rd birthday), and my father. The little drawing on the wall is a newspaper clipping of the police sketch of John Does I and II (from the Oklahoma City bombing).
That's me sorting through little black jumpers with which I intend to set the SCSI address on a Macintosh hard drive.
4:30pm EST: Three geeky things I learned in the past 12 hours:
| I |
've been living the monastic life for the past couple of days, discouraging or avoiding guests and staying away from even benign housemates like Deya. My head aches with sinus pressure and I'm not inspired. I sleep a lot.
| H |
ere I am at Comet, not feeling very well on a Thanksgiving Eve. This is as good a place as any to be simultaneously sick and awake. The Brazilian Girls are supposed to be in town tomorrow. If they bother to visit, I'll be in Kappa Mutha Fucka all by myself. Deya will be with family and of course the bihuman will be far far away from me doing something dysfunctional and needlessly, wastefully expensive. I don't care in the least about Thanksgiving. It would be nice to get a well-rounded meal, but that can theoretically happen any time.
Drunken sorority girls are screaming and laughing in the Greenskeeper, the sports bar downstairs from Comet. I never go into that place. It's a completely different world. I wonder what they would think of me if they knew what I do every night up here over their empty sorority heads.
For linking purposes this article's URL is:
http://asecular.com/blog.php?971126
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