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:
   October diaspora happy hour two years out
Thursday, October 3 2019 [REDACTED]
Initially I felt reasonably good at work, but by 11:30am, I was beset by an almost-crippling sense of dysphoria. This manifested in hangover-like feelings and a few waves of nausea, one so strong that I wondered if I might have to find some place discreet to vomit. Eventually, though, these feelings subsided, and I was even able to make a run to the Hannaford to buy certain office necessities like sauerkraut (as well as some produce for Gretchen). You might think I wouldn't be craving my usual staple of pupusas and sauerkraut given my upset stomach, but I started feeling a lot better once I'd eaten precisely that (complete with fresh tomatoes and slices of carrot pepper).
Now that crunch time is over for my data importer, I've been trying to get back into this other project that I'd started back during the summer. Part of what it entails is a schema translation layer in the database, something I will be implementing as stored procedures. It recently occurred to me that it might make sense to build at least some of this layer programmatically with a Python script, systematically implementing all the schema changes in the production of a set of stored procedures that the script would generate. As I working on that, though, I suddenly became aware of an issue of reliability regarding the Excel parser of my database importer. Working in a Node.js environment, where nearly everything is asynchronous, it's easy for timing issues to lead to reliability problems. In this case, it turned out that I was triggering a file read at a not-always perfect time.
There was a miserable cold rain falling during my drive back home, and conditions at home were bleak enough for me to stoke up a fire of cardboard boxes (an accumulation from multiple Chewy deliveries).
This evening there was a rare video happy hour of the old Mercy For Animals IT diaspora, extending a now-more-than-two-year-old tradition. The four regulars were all there, only one of whom actually still works for MFA. Topics discussed included a taxonomy of penis sizes (including the rhyming couplet "grower, not shower"), whether or not Allison long-time boyfriend Pickle Matt is actually a hobo, and Cameron's continuous training for various regional marathons. When Gretchen made it back from her third Woodstock Film Festival film of the day, she even made an appearance. I only drank a small amount, partly because I had an appointment with a brand new doctor tomorrow.

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