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:
   Dark rides yet again
Monday, November 1 1999
I was caught without my bicycle lights at the end of the day of work. What with the change to standard time, this threw added complication and danger into my evening commute. I waited a little extra long before I headed back home, just so the traffic would thin out a little. Still, it felt like I was taking my life in my hands. Adding to the feeling of doom was an unusually dense fog that had settled over the whole of Mission Valley.
In addition to the annoyance of once again commuting in the dark came the realization that I really have been working at this crazy, demanding job for a whole year, virtually without pause. As Matt Rogers had once told me, the seasons in California really are so monotonous that they're like toilet paper coming off a bathroom tissue roll. It's only the change to night-time commuting that drives home the reality of the passage of time, a whole year, practically a lifetime in "internet time."


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http://asecular.com/blog.php?991101

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