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:
   my AMD K6
Thursday, May 7 1998

essika wrote me a handwritten note decrying my apathy concerning the tensions that have built up between us, the kind of tension that makes the face at right the only kind Jessika ever shows me. So, while I was soaking my damaged fingers in saline solution, we discussed "the issues" somewhat. I pointed out how these musings put me at a disadvantage since they give her a rare view into a person's day by day opinion about the social climate, things I wouldn't normally volunteer to tell her. The fact that I say things in here without ever confronting her puzzles her. But to me, it's entirely consistent with my world view. I'm simply more honest and emotive in these musings than I'm comfortable being in real life. This place is safer, since the readers are (for the most part) removed from the events. I consider (or like to consider) these musings something distinct from the life I am living. Jessika, of course, as a reader and major character, can't see it this way. I'd prefer if she didn't read, but I guess she can't help herself.

Other issues of contention concern my alleged failure to do my share of the housecleaning. The chart (the irritating work schedule she stuck on the refrigerator the other day) is, she says, an effort to keep from having to be "the bad guy." I guess I can see her point about that, but on the day when she first put it up, it just seemed like another insult.


ll day I did a major shuffle of components between my several computers. This was in anticipation of the arrival today of a 233 MHz K6 microprocessor from ESC Technologies (the UPS guy had tried to deliver it yesterday, but no one had been here). As I worked, powerful storms raked the area. It was a good day to be inside.


n the evening, the microprocessor arrived, I installed it, and began the task of kicking down lesser things to less-used (or unused) machines. In the midst of this, Amy from Memphis arrived and invited Jessika and me to join her at a UVA dining hall for free dinner. Jessika was already cooking dinner, but (in a Mentosesque moment) decided to put it on low for Deya and join Amy. I was hungry and went along too.

The dining hall was a new-fangled structure in a new residential section of UVA up on the hill across Stadium Road from the Kappa Mutha Fucka neighborhood. All the buildings featured rhomboid-shaped floors and other excessively modern features, an architectural demonstration that we've successfully thrown off the shackles of Romanesque design. One whole wall of the dining hall was made of steeply-sloping glass, and as rainwater washed down it gave the impression that we were all trapped in a massive lemonade machine.

Amy, Jessika and I all got pretty much the same thing: some excessively dry chicken and a beefy lasagna-type thing. Unlike the girls, I also ate a number of vegetables. Since I'm trying to regrow tissue on the ends of my fingers, it seems like a good idea to get good nutrition.

As I ate, I tried to conceal the mangled tips of my fingers so my friends wouldn't lose their appetites. But Jessika never even noticed the injuries until I drew attention to them (at which point she began to squirm). The wounds have turned black and now look like bits of electrical tape stuck to my fingers.

Behind us sat a table of chatty chatty girls having girl talk with one another, whisper whispering about some cute guy they could see across the room. A dorky guy came up to them and stood for awhile trying to limp through a chunk of pleasant conversation, and they just sat there regarding him in disdain. The moment he walked off, they erupted into laughter.

The only food I managed to smuggle out was an overly ripe tomato and a blueberry bagel.


ack home, I returned to my computers while Jessika and Deya went off to see a free movie (a perk of Jessika's new theatre job). Wacky Jen came over for a little while and she and I chatted about a number of things, including the wacky architecture of the Jefferson Theatre. I also showed Wacky Jen my new oscilloscope, demonstrating the video signal from MTV. The program was Loveline and Jen (who doesn't watch much teevee) had never seen anything quite like it. "It's like a Cartalk of sex!" is how she put it.

A puff of electronic smoke escaped from one of my ISA boards in the midst of my continued computer-related tasks, but I was unable to find anything that had been destroyed. That's only the second time I've ever seen benign electronic smoke.

With the new K6 installed in my computer, I'd like to be able to say it's phenomenally faster than it was with the old Cyrix PR200+, but I don't really notice any major difference. The graph at right output by an old Norton benchmark is kind of impressive though.

one year ago

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