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
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Like my brownhouse:
   not Australian
Saturday, March 11 2000
Throughout her life, Kim has had a fairly diverse set of experiences with a variety of different men, and every now and then she tells the tale of a former lover about whom I have not yet heard. The latest of these stories concerned an Austrian horse trainer, supposedly the most acclaimed horse trainer in all of Central Europe. It seems that five years ago, after Kim had fled her relationship with Dave the underachieving Marin County mountain man, she went to stay for a time with her Aunt Rhonda in Scottsdale, Arizona. Rhonda, being something of an Arabian horse nut, was well connected with the global Arabian horse network. She was good friends with the esteemed Austrian horse trainer and immediately introduced him to Kim. He and Kim hit it off immediately, and before long plans had been made for Kim to move to a posh Austrian castle to live out the rest of her days as an American trophy bride. But at the last minute it became clear that there was a problem with these plans. The horse trainer already had a girlfriend, and what's more, that girlfriend was responsible for the bulk of the horse trainer's cashflow! So, in the end, Kim stayed in America and eventually ran across me (then a homeless & jobless slacker) at a community radio benefit in Ann Arbor.
Fast forward to March of the year 2000. Rhonda sent Kim an email the other day telling her that the Austrian horse trainer had just broken up with his girlfriend and that he thought about Kim constantly. Would she please call him? Perhaps they could pick up where they'd left off.
Kim claims she has no interest in the Austrian horse trainer, but for the past few days she's been using him as something of a weapon, suggesting that if I don't shape up she could always go to Austria and live out the rest of her days as an American trophy bride. Today I was fed up with such threats, mocking the horse trainer as "Australian" (to which Kim would retort, "He's Austrian, not Australian"). I also said that he probably makes as much money as I do, but that in the depressed "Australian" economy, it goes ten times as far. Thus, a $250,000 condo in "Australia" has twenty bathrooms and ten living rooms.
This afternoon, the last thing Kim said before going off to La Jolla with Jenna the German girl (in Jenna's brand new bright yellow VW newBeetle) was something about her Austrian boyfriend, so I was naturally still ticked off at her when she returned some hours later. On an unrelated note, while Kim was in La Jolla, some makeup chick had gotten a hold of her face and rendered it "completely hideous" as I put it when I first saw it.
So Jenna and Kim did girl stuff for awhile while I salvaged some dumpster-dived aluminum picture frames. They were off in the bedroom with the door shut, giggling at each other and trying on different bras in front of the mirror.
These little fights that Kim and I have been having are mostly stress-related, of course. Everything in our lives is in the process of changing, so it's to be expected that we'd snap at each other over silly little things. Considering the fact we have terrible little fights even when we're not in the process of moving and changing jobs, it's remarkable that the police haven't had to come to our house yet.

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