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:
   Silverlake by bicycle
Sunday, December 24 2000

I've realized that too often I serve the role of mirror, where people can project themselves and think whatever they choose about that which they perceive themselves projecting. It's not just the online journal or the paintings that have this effect, it's something that thoroughly pervades my social personality. Linda even told me once that to her I seem like another version of herself, "only better." For whatever reason, people who use me as a mirror are likely to come up with activities for me to join them in. They seem to enjoy seeing their experience through the prism of my immediate interpretation. It's a good thing that there are always people in my life who seek my companionship in this way, otherwise I'd just sit at home and entertain myself in a mostly antisocial way, which isn't very satisfying for me. I've developed few mechanisms for escaping my reclusiveness.
What I really need, though, is community. I think it's my Aquarian nature. I need a place to go where I can pick and choose between a range of situations. It's not that I crave a leadership role (since my political role is more often that of historian, facilitator and, on occasion, spokesman), it's that I crave a flow of interesting ideas. And let's not fool ourselves, what is life without sexual opportunity? It's been a very long time since my life was so thoroughly devoid of sexual possibilities as it is right now. In the past when my life lacked community and sexual possibilities, I started hanging out in other places until the situation improved. Eventually, though, I inevitably develop so many enemies in a town that I'm forced to move somewhere else. It happened in Oberlin, it happened in Charlottesville, and in stages it sort of happened in San Diego as well.
Today I decided to go on my own independent cursory examination of the corridor lying between my house and Silverlake. Since my only means of transportation is my bicycle, that's how I traveled.
Unfortunately, the cranks that Bathtubgirl's driver (Robert) fixed the other day are already fucking up again. They were awfully loose on their axles and making noises by the end of my travels today.
I headed east down Wilshire Blvd until, in Beverly Hills, I came to where Santa Monica crosses Wilshire, at which point I continued eastward down Santa Monica into West Hollywood and beyond. West Hollywood was particularly out of the closet on this day before Christmas. I've never seen so many men walking hand in hand before. I suppose the only guys left in West Hollywood this time of year are the ones mommy and daddy disowned.
I jogged up to Hollywood Blvd and rode down the Walk of Fame for awhile, my full knobby tires running over the substantiative manifestations of hundreds of famous individuals. They looked so fragile, all exposed and vulnerable in their star-shaped sidewalk nests.
Hollywood Blvd. eventually connects with Sunset, which continues on into Silverlake. That's where I stopped, bought some audio plug type stuff in a Radio Shack, and then hung out at the Casbah Café, the place Linda introduced me to. I ordered a large cup of coffee and a ham and cheese croissant and devoured it out in front. I wasn't there terribly long before, completely unexpectedly, Linda and Julian showed up. It was a little weird, because, I mean, what was I doing in their town? I certainly didn't want to give the impression that I was doing anything stalkerly. But Linda was extremely happy to see me, and she and Julian hung out with me for a time. They were in the middle of all sorts of activities related to Julian's family and the holidays, so they couldn't stay long. I snapped some pictures and explained that I was just out on a bike ride, getting out of the house and getting some exercise, that sort of thing.
After they were gone, I figured I ought to head home to avoid darkness catching me on the way. I took Sunset Blvd. most of the way, watching the sunset from where it's supposed to be watched, the Sunset Strip. Christmas Eve isn't a big day on the Sunset Strip, so there wasn't much to observe.
The day had been fairly warm, in the upper sixties or perhaps even the seventies, but come nightfall a chill rapidly descended. This was good, because the task of climbing the hills of Sunset Blvd. kept me plenty warm.
Darkness had pretty much descended by the time I made it down to Wilshire in Westwood.

When I got home I took one of John's Adderall pills and found the focus necessary to complete the painting I'd started yesterday, the one I'd thought needed either a robot or an alligator. It needed neither, it turns out. Just a couple of people in a bar drinking, that's all it is.
When I was done with that painting, I immediately did another one, this a more abstract and spiritual one featuring daisy people interacting with energy vortices in an open field. Or something like that.

A corn field in downtown Silverlake.

Julian and Linda in Silverlake today, in front of the Casbah Café.

Me in Silverlake today, in front of the Casbah.
Behind me is Sunset Blvd. heading eastward.

For linking purposes this article's URL is:

previous | next