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:
   molar mismatch
Saturday, June 24 2000
Kim was gone most of the day, with Anthea doing a video shoot for public access cable television about Goddess stuff. So I was here at my computer, doing what I like to do most: a little bit of content creation mixed with aimless surfing. I also smoked some pot and took a bath. That's such a great way to reconnect with yourself and crank through the thoughts of a troubled mind.
In addition to my other troubles, I had the aggravation of the unfamiliar bite given to me by new the fillings in my teeth. Yesterday I'd tried a little do-it-myself dentistry with some sandpaper, hoping to restore my mouth to the comfortable way it used to be. But the topography of my molars had been so thoroughly remodeled that I didn't really know where to start. In frustration, I even tried chewing on a piece of sandpaper. Obviously I'm going to have to get the dentist to correct this situation. I feel like I have a big seed stuck between my teeth keeping me from closing my jaws all the way. I wonder if anyone has ever been so disatisfied with his dental work that he walked into his dentist's office with a machine gun and started shooting. My mouth is very central to my sense of well being, and with the mismatch in my molars, I feel very imbalanced. All the other fuss and bother in my life seems a bit beside the point. Still, I suppose my situation could be much worse.


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