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:
   La Cienega Target Store
Tuesday, January 16 2001

Near the Shared Point of West Los Angeles, Santa Monica & Brentwood - Another day under the bridge, or so that's how this one feels in retrospect. I rode my bicycle home for lunch and somehow managed to get a one-inch-long rusty finishing nail stuck in my back tire and ended up having to walk back to work. But it was a beautiful day to be walking. Through the clear dry air there was snow visible on the mountain peaks to the east. Some of those peaks are over 9000 ft. in elevation.
After nightfall, without the heat of the sun, the outdoors became considerably less comfortable. As I was walking back home from Helen's Bicycle with a brand new inner tube, the wind added an unusually cold bite to the winter's air.

To throw a little diversity into our normal diet of chips and beans, John and I walked up to Rubio's and had a meal of fish burritos. Mostly all we talked about was fish tacos and fish burritos and what a killing we could make if we could be the first to sell these things on the East Coast.
Walking home down Bundy on our way back from Rubio's, John mentioned something about the unattractive pretentiousness of Chun's former colleagues, the people she befriended when she worked at MTV. "Somebody needs to remind those people that they make really bad television shows." Indeed.
Later we drove out to the Target on La Cienega just south of the 10 freeway. I desperately needed an infusion of new socks into my largely dumpster-dived wardrobe. While we were there I was struck by the fact that we were nearly the only white people in the entire store. I suppose when you're white and you live in Los Angeles, you just can't take the risk of being seen pulling out of a Target parking lot. Amusingly, as we were leaving the store, the security guy (who was black) checked everybody's bags except for ours. Nothing like a little racial profiling with my retail purchases!
I was working on another musical composition tonight, trying to keep the levels moderate and avoid overdriving the tape (as I've been doing of late). In the process, though, I came dangerously close to busting loose with something that sounded like an uplifting anthem. The guitar solo I recorded several times but eventually overwrote definitely would have put me over the top in that respect.

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