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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   the crusty cat is the only one in the laboratory
Friday, September 9 2016
In my remote workplace, I had my doubts about a small data reorganization I was asked to do today. Fortunately, I made a plan and kept scrupulous notes in case I needed to unwind it. Sure enough, every late at night, when I'd become drunk and stoned, I received word that some of the reorganization had miscategorized some things. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
Towards the end of the workday, I started drinking kratom tea (I have more on order, but after September 30th, it will probably recede into my past the way LSD did, another minor victory in the war on drugs).
I bought the excesses of my Friday evening by painting a 2.5 by 2.5 inch canvas painting of Sylvia, our oldest and crustiest cat. I worked from a photograph, but she was nearby most of the time I worked on it.



Sylvia is the only cat who hangs out in the laboratory these days. All the others have been driven off by fleas, which, despite two separate insecticidal foggings, remain a problem. And whatever anti-flea product I put between Sylvia's scapulæ doesn't seem to have been effective, because I recently combed several blood-engorged fleas from near the base of her tail. Without any other options, I've been combing her frequently with a flea comb and killing any living fleas I see. Perhaps because of her age (~16), she's oblivious to their bites, much as she is oblivious to the dried diarrhea caking her haunches and legs. Normally she loudly objects to being combed, but perhaps she was noticing the immediate relief from fleas and even tolerated me combing out the fecal matter, which required decidedly more aggressive work.

Among the things I did this evening was obsessively listen and re-listen to the guitar solo in the newish Dinosaur Jr. song entitled "Love Is." It features Lou Barlow's haunting voice coupled with mostly-restrained noodling by J. Mascis, with the exception of that solo. Not only is Lou Barlow's presence in Dinosaur Jr. anachronistic, but so too is the guitar solo, and I wanted to know what sort of solo a guitarist does after the long period of reaction against guitar solos. Perhaps I heard a bit of awareness of that reaction, but then again Mascis is the sort who wouldn't care about it. Perhaps that's why the solo is so loud in the mix.


For linking purposes this article's URL is:
http://asecular.com/blog.php?160909

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