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:
   artist soon to be known
Wednesday, June 28 2000
I have a lot of work to do at my job, but it's just easier to play around and not really do anything. This is my typical reaction to a deadline, until the deadline looms to within a few hours. In my new digs in the new office, I have all the privacy I need to do any sort of side-project, and believe me, I take full advantage of my freedom. Ultimately, of course, the work will get done, but - hold on a minute - wouldn't it be cool if I added another couple paragraphs to my demise of CollegeClub page?

[REDACTED] I vividly remember being a child in fourth grade math, sitting on the left side of the room, sort of in the front near the door. I remember feeling anxiety about the possibility that some busy-body adult would wander in, look over my shoulder and make an annoying comment about the proximity of some major holiday to the date I'd just written on my math quiz. I have an inexplicable aversion to idiotic smalltalk, particularly the sort aimed at eliciting a response. I'm absolutely certain this feeling is entirely genetic in origin. My mother always yells at people attempting to read newspapers over her shoulder. And my grandfather was legendary for his insane efforts to shield himself from annoying disturbances, once actually chasing a couple of door-to-door salesmen across his snowy lawn while barefoot (but armed with a pitchfork).

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