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:
   efforts so thin
Saturday, December 23 2000

Do you ever wish your piss smelled like Dr. Pepper? I keep getting the feeling that mine does, since every time I piss in my upstairs bathroom, my nose is right next to a large scented candle regifted to me by housemate John, and the fragrance of that candle, when mixed with that of urine, smells like Dr. Pepper.

Look, it's a picture of my mother clapping, drumming and singing at a recent art opening in Staunton, Virginia. I imagine this was shortly before they had to cut her off the free vino.

Today I decided to treat myself and do my laundry for the first time in weeks. I know this is going to sound horrifying, but it was the first time I washed my sheets since I began living in the absence of Bathtubgirl. It's not like I have any excuse either; there's plenty of detergent and the washing machine and dryer are right outside my bedroom. When I went to harvest my clothes from the dryer, there it was, that wonderful erotic smell of cleanness! I'd almost forgotten what clothes not tainted with my body odor smell like.

I had a great deal of difficulty maintaining any sort of creative focus today. Somehow, in the course of the day, I managed to
  • tinker with computer hardware
    (diagnosing a Packard Bell 100 MHz Pentium machine I found in the alley a few weeks ago as functional)
  • record some music on my four track
    (it was interesting because I was actually singing reasonably well, but it was otherwise not very good)
  • paint the initial composition of a painting
    (it has some potential, if I make one of the guys into either an alligator or a robot)
  • work on a Flash animation
    (almost a complete waste of time)
  • research some SQL issues for my web-based query analyzer
  • further ponder (mostly while in the bathtub) the database schema necessary to build a Turing-Test-passing web-surfing self-educating robot
    (coming soon to a message board near you?)
It's difficult to have any results worth bragging about when one spreads one's creative efforts so thin. Perhaps I should have just popped one of John's ADD pills and found the focus to make one of these list items flower into something worthy of Show & Tell.
I sort of wanted to go to the Knitting Factory in Hollywood tonight to see a performance of my favorite local lofi band Moth, but my health is still not fully restored and I didn't feel like today was the day to learn the bitter truth about mass transit on the Santa Monica Blvd. corridor. Still, in my isolation, I feel like I'm missing out on the life-path-changing potential of the world. Imagine if Wacky Jen hadn't found me before she and her friends set off for Michigan back in July of 98? Imagine if Matt Rogers hadn't suggested we go to the WCBN benefit a couple weeks later? If either of those chance events hadn't happened, I wouldn't be in Los Angeles right now wondering why my life has logarithmically settled into such a listless state.

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