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:
   President Day on President Street
Monday, February 18 2002
I guess it says something about my employment status that today I asked Gretchen, "is it Monday already?" This is a question that the employed just never ask.
Though unemployed, I have been keeping myself busy building a generic gallery system whose first application will be on Bathtubgirl's paysite. It's amazing how messy code and database schemes can become as features are added and modified. There was a certain point in the evening when the whole project seemed like a big stinking pile of shit. Of course, I'm over-dramatizing the defects as I saw them. At this point in my "career", my working methods are so conditioned to the need for flexibility that it's almost never much work to implement radical changes.
I was so wrapped-up in my work that I didn't pay sufficient attention when a couple of Gretchen's out of town friends came over. (I didn't really notice this; Gretchen brought it up later and left me feeling like antisocial boob.) The problem, as I see it, is that I don't have an office; I work in the same room where people socialize and watch television. Lately I've been thinking that I should get a job just so I can have a place to work undisturbed on my projects, and better yet, get paid for it.

For linking purposes this article's URL is:

previous | next