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:
   breakfast food: why?
Sunday, August 29 1999
Today was even lazier than the day before, but this time Kim was with me for it all. In the morning we actually had enough motivation to drive somewhere. We went to a trendy breakfast place in Mission Beach called, imaginatively enough, The Mission. I really don't like breakfast food very much, so Kim and I both ordered BLTs, one of the few sandwiches available at the restaurant at that hour. It's strange to think of all the restaurants that cheerfully offer breakfast 24 hours a day, but when you go to order a cheeseburger at 8am they look at you like you're crazy. What's so different about morning that the food eaten then has to be greasy, sweet and otherwise flavourless? Is the stomach really weaker in the morning? Mine often is, but I credit that to vodkatea.
Initially we'd planned to head to the beach at some point, but before we knew it, the sun had set and the truth was that we'd never actually left the house. We'd watched movies, we'd had sex, we'd taken a long nap, I'd added some gratuitous surreal twists to my latest painting, and Kim had even ordered a pizza. But we'd never actually gone outside and sat in that bright San Diego sun.
One of the movies we watched was Go. This exceptionally well-acted flick is about an understated raver girl who, in the absence of her dealer, does a little dabbling of her own in Ecstasy dealing. She quickly finds herself in a fascinating world of trouble, where her street smarts are put through all sorts of dramatic tests. Meanwhile, her dealer, off in Las Vegas for some reason, manages to find some car-chase-inducing drama of his own. The dealer is a wacky British guy struck from the same mold as Rory. Carefree and open to any suggestion one moment, causing chaos and mayhem the next, then gleefully accepting a just punishment in the end.


A "video" shot today as a series of still frames with my digital camera by Lisa the neighbor girl in our computer room. The painting in the background was sent to me by Ann Arbor's own Andrew Shaver.


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