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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   pro-raw talking points that verged on woo
Tuesday, December 8 2020 [REDACTED]

After work today, I drove the Nissan Leaf out to the Brewster Street house and began the process of patching up the four holes I'd put in one of the walls and ceiling of the dining room. Since the material on the outside of the laths was only about a quarter-inch thick, I used parts of a scrap of quarter-inch Durock as the patching material (instead of drywall; I only had half and 5/8 inch scraps of that). Durock is hard material and difficult to cut except on scores perpendicular to the length of longish pieces, but I made it work. It took me longer than the predicted 20 minutes, but subsequent visits should be much shorter. (It's impossible to fix a wall with just one visit; one must wait for several rounds of drywall compound application and drying.) As a bonus, I found my nice foldable lamp was still where I'd left it among the overhead wires in the basement. I was sure not to leave anything behind on this visit.
As I worked, one of the kids was watching a YouTube video of a youngish woman playing a videogame. It was the most inane thing I'd ever seen (or heard) anyone watch ever.
On the drive home, I stopped at the Mobil station just inside the hipster zone on Broadway in Kingston to get a sixer of Lagunitas Little Sumpin' Sumpin'. There were three customers besides me in the store and all of them were African American, though the two employees were Indian. Only one of the customers was wearing a mask. As I came out of the store, one of the unmasked customers (who ridden there in the cold on a bicycle) asked me if "Lagunitas" was good. I said it was. Then he asked what I mixed it with. I didn't know what he meant by that. Do people mix things into their beer? "I just drink it straight." I said. He found that odd for some reason. It made me think I should ask Powerful about beer drinking in Black culture.
Back at the house, Powerful was preparing the "raw foods" meal of his online vegan cooking class. Both Gretchen and I think of the dogmatic raw preparation of food as a silly hindrance to deliciousness, but we kept our minds open. The meal consisted of tacos that used leaves of romaine lettuce as wraps and diced walnut as "meat," along with other fun things like homemade crema (from almonds) and salsa (from mangos and peppers). It was unexpectedly delicious, and Gretchen was so sold on it that by the end there she was spouting pro-raw talking points that verged on woo. They'd also made rice just in case the raw foods alone weren't enough. For me, though, they were, though (unusually) I had room for a course of dessert: some very fattening day-old vegan pastries our friend Maresa had given Gretchen when she visited Maresa's newish vegan bakery ("Sweet Maresa's") today in Uptown Kingston.


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