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Passing the Wind of Time

1 min read

passing the wind of time

Had to cut my time in Boca short because of some Chrono-magna Weather incident at school, because somehow NO ONE on staff will admit knowing how to recalibrate the Krezner machines. It's just this little chromium switch here...  I swear they're all in on it just out to find some reason to ruin my precious little time away. 

Anyway, the root cause analysis is here.

The Orbital Learning Platform, Re-envisioned

3 min read

I was very pleased to unveil the initial design concepts for the New Havelka Orbital Learning Platform during an open house last night, and thrilled with the turnout and the interest the student body has been showing.

As many of you know, it has long been my desire to add an orbital component to our already superlative facilities here at Psychic High School. The student body’s desire for a zero-gravity learning experience has been clear for many years, and the bouncy houses we installed on campus for this purpose are nearing their end-of-life.

new havelka 1

 

These new designs really capture the spirit of Psyhigh’s move into the orbital sphere - a safe, multi-layered environment, where students can explore and discover at their own pace. Along with assorted themed recreation rooms, the Orbital Learning Platform includes floating hot tubs and pools, exclusive club rooms, foosball, ping pong, bowling, zero-gravity roller coasters, build-your-own zero-gravity sundae rooms, make-your-own zero-gravity pizza rooms, all-you-can-eat zero-gravity hot dog rooms, and more.

Indeed, it is a paradise where students can play all day and never work - where their minds can remain at their most relaxed - and productive!

new havelka 2

 

At the same time, the New Havelka Orbital Learning Platform provides a vital service that Psyhigh has been sorely in need of for some time - a way to more fully protect our valuable Intellectual Property. Most specifically, the trade secrets created by (and in the minds of) our students.

The value of assigning Arbitration in Space has long been known. The same aspects of inaccessibility that make control of space-based arbitration appealing can provide protection for the formulas, processes, designs, methods or compilations of information that arise in our students’ minds. These include conscious work-product while in class, but can extend to include their play and dream time as well.

new havelka 3

 

The new Psychic NDA that students will sign before arriving on the Orbital Learning Platform provides even more solidity to our educational relationship with our students. In it, any and all thoughts produced by our students, awake or asleep, belong to Psychic High School, in perpetuity. Thus, Psyhigh can fully own and protect the the methods and processes created by our students, knowingly or unknowingly, and erase them from the students’ memories as they are harvested.

As more time is spent on the Orbital Learning Platform, and students produce more and more valuable IP, it is true that vast portions of students' memories will be erased, eventually leading to a state of mindlessness which is irreversible. 

havekla 4

 

But where others may see a problem, I see the foundation of the next step in Psyhigh’s climb into the stars: providing a steady source of labor for our proposed mining operation on Ganymede!

However, first things first, and I very much look forward to moving the New Havelka Orbital Learning Platform to its next stage in development.

Thanks for your input. More than ever, our students are indeed our greatest resource.

 

Dean Hammer

Dean, Psychic High School

 

More information can be found on our website, psyhigh.com.

About the Straw... @psyhigh @JonCarling @earlyclues @quatrianpythia

5 min read


I'd like to take this time to thank both the students and the staff for being such good sports about the straw.

As many of you are aware, there was a short time last night when the school - its buildings, environs, and, yes, inhabitants - were transformed into straw. Ho Ho! YOTTSO, as they say! (You Only Turn To Straw Once!).

I was spending some quality time with Hay Man, our Master of Ceremonies for last night's festivities, in my office, while you kids were out with your "rock and roll."  As you know, my office is soundproofed (thank god!) as well as shielded both electronically and magically, so we were able to have a peaceful moment. I decanted some of my finest Ghillie Dhu, and invited Hay Man to take off his shoes and run his bare toes through my luxurious shag carpet. (Hay Man reacted quite unfavorably to my offer of a cigar).

We got to talking, and though Hay Man's voice is rather disconcerting (like a late summer breeze blowing through the tall grass) it became apparent we had a mutual interest in "games of chance." I showed him my haunted backgammon board, my Hasbro Old Crone™ tarot deck, my ancient "Solomon's Knuckles" Yahtzee set, but Hay Man had seen it all.  

Instead, Hay Man invited me to a game of "Plowman's Heap," apparently a harvest game from antiquity in which he had a special interest. In it, two heaps of dung are presented. Bets are placed on which pile will attract a fly first. That was it. Charmingly rustic!

With his open (and perhaps somewhat European) sensibilities, he suggested we produce the piles of dung in the traditional fashion, but instead I ordered out from the Psychic Animal Husbandry department (their lead professor owes me more than a few favors). Soon enough, the steaming piles were placed on platters on my desk under silver plate covers.

But what to bet on? I've had plenty of experience with ancient minor Metadivinities before as investors, and I know just what kind of psychic capital they've got access to. After a few well-placed leading questions, I was able to pinpoint the very thing I'd LOVE to have my hands on... A single night with Clarissa, Silver Moon Goddess of the last quarter after Firstfrost. I don't mean anything untoward, but a "date" date. We'd have dinner, maybe a movie...

Hay Man's interests were far more inscrutable. Old embodiments of his ilk can be capricious - what to get the harvest god that has everything? Their desires tend to devolve to the more whimsical. 

As everyone knows, straw and hay are entirely different things. Primarily, hay is edible, whereas straw is not. Perhaps it was some kind of "dis" that Hay Man chose the prize he did.

Finally, the covers on the platters were lifted, and the game was afoot!

As my office is generally fly-free, I was quite surprised to see a huge bluebottle appear almost immediately. Big as my thumb, I swear. Perhaps the generous quantities of the Ghillie Dhu had helped assuage my suspicions. Which was unfortunate. After a few desultory passes, the fly landed with a plop. Hay Man had won.

The effect was immediate. With a dusty WHOMP! I saw the walls of my beloved office turn to straw. I rushed outside and found my beloved school turned a tawny yellow in the moonlight, a fresh but dusty scent upon the grounds. I saw the few students still up and about walking stiff legged, working to bend their straw limbs within their jeans, pawing straw fingers over their spiky straw hair. Padding at my own over-stuffed clothes, I found my own limbs and body in the same condition.

"Uh... whoops!" I thought.

Luckily, I have some amount of experience concerning the school's fate in situations like this. 

I immediately returned to Hay Man to beg, and if necessary, cry.

Hay Man, however, was nowhere to be seen. Already he had fled the coop! All that remained of our evening were two cooled plates of dung, an empty bottle of Ghillie Dhu, and one very large bluebottle fly, passed out in the bottom of one of my Glencairn glasses. I immediately covered the top with one of the Hasbro Old Crone™ cards and began shaking him awake. 

It didn't take too long to knock the truth out of him. The buzzing was horrendous, but as my threats grew, he gave up the fact that indeed, this was a "con" he and Hay Man had perpetrated many times before, and that if I would only let him go, he'd be sure to set things right. 

Not very likely.

Instead, I am quite familiar with UFR arbitration, and immediately submitted a request via OpenQNL to have this state.change rescinded. I've even got a macro set up for this kind of thing. Luckily, the 24/24/7/12/1066 customer service crew at the UFR call center were there when I needed them, and with a backwards, dream-like flash, things were back to normal, and the straw was gone.

Well, most of the straw, as you may have noticed some stray bits around campus, or in your rooms, or in your hair or clothes this morning.

In any case, it's another wonderful time for me to recognize the resilience and "can do" attitude of our student body. There is no better way for you to be prepared for your lives ahead than to have your fates arbitrarily decided by your elders over games of chance, driven by lust, and fueled by alcohol. 

And for those of you with allergies, I've asked for the supply of tissues across campus to be doubled for the rest of the weekend! Enjoy!

Best,

Dean Hammer

Announcing: Elite Memlens! @psyhigh @earlyclues

1 min read

Congratulations to our Elite Memlens! These are the students have drunk the most Memlen Elven Cola™ since it was first introduced on campus.


They can easily be identified by their exceptionally large heads, and/or gold/blue glow/pallor.


Or, in some cases, huge, bulging eyes, fuzzy donkey ears, and claws. 


Being an Elite Memlen also means being eligible for many special benefits, including but not limited to: unerring vision of the harsh inevitability of the future, epistemological indigestion, and transcendent gas buildup.


Wouldn’t you like to be a Memlen too? Become one of our Elite Memlen Brand Ambassadors. Drink more Memlen Elven Cola™ today! Right now!



Further to my discussion with the PSAU @psyhigh @earlyclues

2 min read

I'd like to thank the Psychic Student Activist Union for arranging our discussion today.

To follow up: I can assure you that Elven food is entirely different from Fairy food. Fairy Food is a known hazard, often trapping the unsuspecting consumer in a sparkling land of eternal spring, perhaps with houses made of meat and gardens of melting ice cream and pickles. 

Unlike Fairy food, Elven food is merely the traditional product of a charming native people, some of whom I have made arrangements with in order to help distribute their important cultural legacy. This agreement was entered into entirely freely by both parties, with only slight use of the Skúli Ring of Bewilderment, which I recently acquired in a poker game.

Also no, FDA approval is not required, as Memlen Elven Cola™ is "100%" "natural."

As the Memlen machines have proven to be such a big hit, I will be personally overseeing the Elves as they refill the machines throughout the day. I will be doing this on a palanquin, borne on the shoulders of my executive Elf management team.

And again, please don't speak to the Elves as they fulfill their duty. It only makes them more uppity.

Best,

Dean Hammer

Psyhigh "Sucks Down" Memlen Elven Cola! @earlyclues @SteveBurnsAlive @psyhigh

2 min read


Dateline: Psychic High School

Psychic High School is exceptionally pleased to announce our new arrangement with MEMLEN ELVEN COLA®.

Through an exclusive non-non-exclusive arrangement with Memlen Elven Cola® (a Tri-Cities Corporation), Psychic High School is now offering Memlen Elven Cola® (exclusively) on campus as the "go-to" drink for all our students on the go!

During the "quote" "unquote" "Resistance Faire" perpetrated held this weekend by some of our most traitorous finest students, the psychic janitorial staff (under my personal supervision) was able to remove our current Kale Chip snack dispensers and Kombucha vending machines and god knows what and replace them all with handsome Memlen Elven Cola® soda pop machines. Now Memlen Elven Cola® is THE drink for Psyhigh!

I'm sure you're all aware of the problem of Psychic Obesity. There has been an upward trend for countless generations toward a morbidity in the psychic svelteness of our student body. As Dean, I want to do all I can to increase the firmness in the swelling bosoms of the minds of our students, with an eye toward the future.

Through corporate sponsors like MEMLEN ELVEN COLA®, Psychic High School is able to offer an antidote to this scourge, and at no additional cost to Psychic High School whatsoever! Any residual transactions between our two entities will be handled discretely through my personal off-shore §hadeCoin shell trading companies.

To celebrate this historic moment in Psyhigh history, celebrity spokesperson Steve Burns (@SteveBurnsAlive) will be appearing at noon in the Student Union to join us all in a toast to those wonderful, wonderful Elves who produce this amazing elixir.


Join me, won't you?

Dean Hammer, Dean, Psychic High School





Reflections on #Wisdom3dot2 Day Three @earlyclues @earlycluesIAO

5 min read



While I couldn't wait to further confer, converse, and otherwise hobnob with my brother and sister wizards here at Wisdom 3.2, my assistant and I had a show to put on. 

I awoke in the early afternoon. Somehow my assistant had slipped the bonds of his his Good Boy™ straitjacket, gnawed through the knots in the cords binding his legs, and picked the locks on the restraining spells I’d actually thought I’d done a good job on. I opened my eyes to find him perched above me, deciding whether to slit my throat with the complimentary letter opener from our room or smash my head in with the clock radio.

Mimicking the cry of the banshees that had ravished him the day before, I pulled the old Krayt Dragon Hunting Cry Trick, and he was soon reduced to a blubbering mass, cowering in the corner of the room, swatting at invisible pests crawling over his body. Mad as he may be, my lovable assistant is as predictable as he is temperamental. A dozen Dick Gried™ style Special Cricket Cheezadillas and he was once again in his semi-reasoning state. 

I opened up his wardrobe trunk and began to select an appropriate outfit for him. This is a ritual for us, and frankly one designed to draw him in. 

“The green polka dot shirt with the black suspenders?” I asked.

“IDIOT! YOU HAVE NO TASTE!”

“The red union suit and the denim vest?”

“ARE YOU INSANE? THESE ARE NOT THE STICKS WE ARE PLAYING!”

My assistant is not only a professional, he is an artist. Shaking his head and muttering under his breath, he picked out the perfect ensemble for our presentation. 

He is the best Ghost Rodeo Clown I've ever had the pleasure of working with.

While he dressed, I donned my own show gear - all white and rhinestones and embroidery - and grabbed the jeweled phurba, the diamond vajra, and an appropriate selection of prayer bells. 

Once in costume, my assistant transformed from increasingly unhinged maniac to cool-headed technician. We were - yet again - about to enter into a ring from which there was no guarantee of mortal escape. We would depend utterly on one another to make it through alive. Well, it would be mostly him depending on me, but you never really know.

I began the presentation as per the schedule - on the Libido Deck at the Unincorporated Eco-Villages of Thai Ornament. I knew full well there wouldn’t be enough room there, but herding the crowd out to the corrals adds great anticipation - a field trip in the midst of your presentation is a great way to wow them. So, after a short Prezi on the the historical context, it was time to move ‘em out to the corrals.

However, it was a bit more of a show than I had intended. Only a few of the audience fainted outright, but there was some amount of catatonia, and yes, unfortunately, some vomiting. Against my strict admonitions, my assistant had entered the corral in an attempt to “warm up” the banshees without my protective protocols in place. What had ensued was beyond sickening - a feeding frenzy of ravenous wraiths intent on nothing short of the eternal damnation of my assistant. Suspenders were stretched. His rubber nose became a hacky sack. His over-large boots were made a mockery. Bits of rainbow wig floated like chum in the spectral atmosphere.The howls of the banshees alone were enough to freeze the most hardened attendees in their tracks.

Taking the podium (safely outside the corral) I began an emergency ritual invocation to control the situation. I won’t go into the details here, but, as I employed techniques not usually considered safe for an uninitiated audience, there were some additional casualties. 

Before long, I had the banshees behaving. They separated into groups, and began the synchronized movements you’re used to seeing in these performances. My assistant was able to compose himself and - consummate professional that he is - passed out the flags and costumes with the LED lights to the ghosts, who paraded in complex and crowd-pleasing patterns when we turned down the lights. This brought the crowd back, and by the end we received a standing ovation. “All part of the show, folks!” I assured them.

With the banshees safely tamed, the crowd left to prepare for the "Theme" Social Mixer (Come Dressed as Your Favorite HR Representative), but my assistant and I needed to attend to the bottling of the banshees. In their now tamed state, they should make good parting gifts for the attendees. Hopefully we’ll make quick work of it, and I’ll have time to get back to rubbing elbows with these truly amazing people for one final night. And I believe enough of the fight has been taken out of my assistant that it may be safe to leave him at the Insect Buffet Bar somewhat unattended. 

It's been an amazing time, you wonderful, wonderful people. If I don't run into you tonight, see you all at the West Nile Decontamination Meet-Up in the morning!

Yours,

Dean Hammer, Dean, Psychic High School

Reflections on #Wisdom3dot2 Day Two @EarlyCluesIAO @earlyclues @DaveBuckloe

7 min read




I continue to be amazed at the caliber of attendees here at Wisdom 3.2. The air crackles with energy as ideas are shared, coupling and decoupling with audible booms like trains in the night. These booms were coursing through my head in a most visceral way this morning, as I awoke once again in my bed, with no memory of my return. My old comrade @DaveBuckloe truly knows how to "work a room," and once he gets going, there's no turning back.

Thankfully the makeshift restraining spells (and some old PsyScout know-how with the cords from the blinds) were enough to keep my assistant from destroying more than his side of the room. When I was able to once again move my tongue inside my mouth, I conjured up the Inner.Help.Desk at the luxurious Unincorporated Eco-Villages of Thai Ornament here in sunny Boca Raton, and ordered up a dozen of their  Dick Gried™ style Special Cricket Cheezadillas, which have a soothing effect on my assistant. They transubstantiated in our room in short order (replacing the generous pile of free stationary on our nightstand), and while my assistant tore into them like the famished wildman he is increasingly becoming, I changed into the chaps and spurs and hat of my ghost-wrangling gear.

We'd already missed Neil Gaiman's breakfast keynote, and I knew we'd be missing a good portion of the rest of the day too, preparing for my presentation tomorrow. There was a fair bit of ghost and banshee wrangling to do. We had attempted to fill our corrals with ghosts and banshees captured via "organic search" back on campus, but the grounds have become increasingly depleted. This is a result of over-fishing the native ghost population in our neck of the woods - largely due to increased demand from the youngsters to power their "Internet of Ghostly Things" (IoGT). In the IoGT, a student's pocket watch or Walkman™ can be used to "talk" to a soda pop machine and turn it into a jukebox, or somesuch, but you need a ghost on both ends. As more and more students are "ghosting" their sneakers and buttons, in order to "hook up" with other students' buttons and zippers, well, you get the picture.

I had a feeling, however, that there would be all the ghosts we needed in Boca Raton.

While my assistant was finishing his cicadian meal, I took my own short sustenance (for some time now I've been living entirely on fifth generation Wonka™ pills), packed the equipment, and summoned a GRYFT car.

Our destination was the Haunted Shopping Mall of Boca Raton, just down the Old Electric Highway from Thai Ornament. My assistant seemed a new man - perhaps finally fully satiated with food, and seeing the sky for the first time in 36 hours. He watched me pack the car and cast only a few expletive-laden charges at me. In no time, we were off!

GRYFT is certainly a convenient service. The drivers are neat, polite, and entirely enslaved by psychic forces I swear are completely outside of our control. Catering to the psychic and magickal set, they are able to pick up and process telepathic-band requests, and I believe are able to buy all the Special Cricket Cheezadillas they might want with their generous earnings.

Even before the Haunted Shopping Mall appeared in our sights, I could see the proximity effects in my assistant. He began focusing on a point in the distance, the hair on his neck and back visibly rising and standing on-end. He was unable to restrain a squeal as the car came to a halt and he burst out the door, scrambling on all fours to a broken panel in the entrance to the mall.

Aside from a 1978 Chevrolet Malibu Classic Station Wagon that appeared to be lived in, the parking lot was utterly desolate and empty. I removed our delicate equipment from the boot of the GRYFT car, wished the driver well, and began to haul it all inside.

It was a familiar sight. The skylights illuminating the wonders of a formerly rich and powerful civilization - names like Waldenbooks, J.C. Penney, Orange Julius, darkened and falling apart. This particular mall had a Zeezo's Magic Castle, where one can usually find a sympathetic (and less insane) ghost as a guide to find the richest veins.

No such guide was necessary, however, as the screams of my assistant filled the cavernous halls.

As I raced to the dry fountain at the center of the mall, stumbling with my arms full of cables and ghost boxes, I beheld a most horrific sight - my assistant writhing, screeching, suspended 20 feet above the floor. A herd of banshees swarmed his undulating form, battling with one another to attach themselves, lamprey-like, to his convulsing body.

I must admit I was not quite prepared for this level of ferocity. Florida does indeed breed a most voracious strain of mall ghosts! Repeated blasts of my ghost whistle failed to gain the slightest bit of their attention as they fed on the primitive yet powerful urges of my assistant. However, he was a professional, and I knew he could hold his own as I figured this out.

As I set up the equipment, the answer dawned on me with relieving alacrity. Bezos! I knew he'd be doing his Goats and Knives shtick at that very moment on the Lido Deck at Wisdom 3.2. That was just the mix of heavyweight synconjury and sacrifice the situation called for. I steadied my mind, and with OpenQNL was easily able to tap into the Wisdom 3.2 network at Thai Ornament and summon the Bezos.

Almost immediately, the air was ripped open by that all-too-familiar, inhuman cackle.

It was just enough to confuse and frighten the banshees, and just enough time for their pearly essences to be sucked up into my ghost box array.

The mall was silent again. Well, mostly silent, as my assistant moaned incoherently, having fallen twenty feet into the basin of the dry fountain. However, no apparent broken bones, and in his subdued state it was a simple matter to fit him into his Good Boy™ straitjacket and, with the leash, lead him back to the entrance of the mall and call another GRYFT car. Also, I gave him a well-deserved Pizza Scrubbie Snack™.

The return to Thai Ornament was uneventful, save for the 127x charge on the GRYFT car - apparently the psychic disturbance of our expedition really lit up the network, and every entity with any kind of psychic connection felt the need to get up and go. 

After securing my assistant back in our rooms, it was time to transfer the ghosts. True to his word, Roger P. Holliday had set up a fine Wraith Corral on the parade grounds at Thai Ornament. I set the banshees loose and let them run themselves ragged in the corral. It'd be no use trying to tame them tonight, and all the better for the show tomorrow afternoon. Still, I spent quite a while observing them - I always find their hypnotic swirl terribly relaxing. I also picked out my favorites - the strongest, the fastest - and even named a few.

Apparently I was mesmerized for quite a bit longer than I had realized, and it was time to return to my quarters and write this missive. I believe I will be heading to bed forthwith. After perhaps one quick drop-in for a nightcap at the Thai Ornament Tiki Lounge.

One more wonderful and event-filled full day to go!

Reflections on #Wisdom3dot2 Day One @earlyclues @EarlyCluesIAO @DaveBuckloe

4 min read



Getting There is 16/5ths the Fun!

Naturally, had a bit of unplanned adventure getting here - the Wisdom 3.2 conference of 2014. With the flights disrupted out of Chicago (apparently due to the summoning of a fire elemental gone haywire), teleportation ley lines were a bit clogged, and we ended up translocating not at The Unincorporated Eco-Villages of Thai Ornament in sunny Boca Raton, but into the depths of the Florida Panther National Wildlife Refuge.

As a seasoned psychic business traveler, I am accustomed to traveling light. However, with my presentation on Monday, I've got a lot of equipment in tow. My assistant handled this turn of events with his usual aplomb, weeping and refusing my attempts to soothe him, even refusing offers of his favorite Pizza Scrubbie Snacks™ hours ahead of schedule. Fortunately, after strapping the entirety of our equipment, suitcases, and my assistant's wardrobe trunk to my back, the encroaching growls of the famed Florida Panthers roused my assistant from his depressive sloth and we were on our way to Alligator Alley - The Everglades Parkway.

With consistent application of a bevy of Longshot Luck Spells, it wasn't too long before our telepathic distress calls (and the energetic presentation of our thumbs) found us a ride. Unsurprisingly, it was the naive idealism of young people (something Psychic High School is founded on) that came to our aid. In this case, it was a group of freewheeling Manatees (or "Manateens") on a road trip to a Fish concert that pulled over and allowed us to load our sodden bundles - and ourselves - into their van.

It was a smooth trip from there. They were kind enough to share their supplies with us, including generous amounts of their coveted "alligator weed." Once we finally arrived at The Unincorporated Eco-Villages of Thai Ornament in Boca Raton, we were really feeling the spirit of Florida. I was sure that even my assistant, curled in a ball in the corner of the van and sobbing, clawing against its metal sides, was ready to embrace "the sunshine state."

After inadvertently breaking and entering into a couple of the wrong time-shares, we finally made it to Thai Ornament. I unpacked and hung out our gear to dry, and, with no short amount of manhandling, was able to lock my assistant into our luxurious quarters. Beginning to come to his old senses, he demanded I bring him food, a change of clothes, and a racing form. After a change from my safari khakis into my Armani, I joined the Dance Party "Buffet," in search of my colleagues (and sustenance for my assistant).


Total Chillaxation

And what a "Party" it was! Frankly, Bohemian Grove has been on the slide for some time, and what a breath of fresh air it was to find myself among my true peers in the cutting edge spirituality and reality manipulation racket. While I missed His Excellence the Five-hundred and Thirty First Hama Lama and Dr. Tara Mallory, I'd seen them many times before. And as everyone knows, the real "business" that goes down at an event like this is the "networking."

At the Dance Party "Buffet," the gateways were already down and we were experiencing a free flow of ideas and feelings, not the staid and formalized rituals of communication ala Bohemian Grove, but a truly orgiastic tumult of free spirits, brands, and alien intelligences in play. The ozone smell of Psychic V-Cards being furiously exchanged filled the air, and soon the very walls of time and space had collapsed around our dreams and intentions.

Or, at least, that's what I told my assistant. Waking up this morning I did not quite recollect most of the evening, or returning to my rooms, but thankfully had had the foresight to fill my pockets with the savory and nutritious fare provided by Ted Smith - if I'm not mistaken he may have enlisted Boontham Puthachat himself as caterer. After a short altercation with my assistant, I was able to subdue him and toss him the delicious crunchy morsels. This has been enough to occupy him while I relate this account of my business trip thus far.

I'm afraid I've missed most of today's events, recovering from last night (and, of course, teleporation-lag), but will soon return to swimming in the streams of intuitive dislocated networking with my people, who I have truly found here. Going to try and make it an early night so I don't miss Neil Gaiman's talk tomorrow. Why so early, @EarlyCluesIAO? ;) Hopefully I won't run into @DaveBuckloe, or I'll be out till dawn for sure. He's a dangerous one! ;)


hello @psyhigh!

1 min read

Just trying out the chromium switch here on my console....