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:
   dead tired
Tuesday, July 25 2000

Last night, having been driven to seek peace and quiet beneath the desk in my workplace cubicle, I'd never actually managed to get any sleep. Surprisingly, though, despite my desire to just crawl off somewhere and pay back my dream deficit, the day was not entirely miserable. I managed to get good work done even while the wheels in my mind experienced difficulty making purchase on the most simplistic concepts.
In the afternoon, I walked all the way home, ate some cold pizza from the fridge, petted Sophie, got a file off my computer, retrieved my bike and rode back to work. [REDACTED]

When I came home from work, I was sort of surprised that Kim was actually being nice to me. [REDACTED] It's very rare that Kim respects my desire to do anything (such as napping) that doesn't involve interacting with her, but I think she could see the sleep hunger in my eyes. "It's very important that I not be woken up," I emphasized as I lay down. [REDACTED]
When I finally awoke, I could hear the voices of the boys (Mario and Robert) downstairs. They'd come to socialize and drink wine. [REDACTED]
As we were hanging out, Mario gave both Kim and me massages. I guess it should come as no surprise that there was a trace of sadism evident in his technique. After all, he is the author of the infamous bondage cross.

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