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:
   like an animated punctuation mark
Tuesday, February 26 2002
Today was the first time I ever added sound to a Flash project. This phase of the project began with me hopping on Morpheus and downloading a pirate copy of "Immigrant Song" (this was completely legal, since somewhere I own Led Zeppelin III on vinyl) as well as a vintage performance of "God Bless America." Everything went well, though I couldn't for the life of me figure out how to have one movie turn off the sound in another. The intuitive way isn't always the right way in Flash, and that's the most infuriating thing about it. I spend whole hours trying to figure out what the hell I changed to precipitate some new emergent behavior, but it's often hopeless. There are so many tiny controls in the interface that it's not uncommon to inadvertently knock one into some new state while pushing the many windows and palettes about.
Unusually creepy things were afoot tonight when Gretchen and I walked Sally in Prospect Park. Warm clouds were racing past a full moon while various solo men prowled in the most suspicious manners possible. One of them stood waiting atop a wooded knoll. What was he waiting for? It wasn't obvious. Then, from out of woods, a yellowish dog appeared, no owner in sight, and developed an immediate fondness for Sally. We thought he might be an abandoned dog (as a sweet-natured halfbreed male Pit Bull, he fit the abandoned Prospect Park dog profile perfectly), but when Gretchen asked him if she could look at his collar, he ran away, never to return.
Then, as we approached the Meadowport Arch, we saw three different single men milling around with no apparent purpose, so we elected to cross Park Drive above instead. When it comes to creepy men at night, often it's best to trust your instincts.
Back at the house, Eddie Edna was in a completely unprecedented state, yowling like a tomcat at Noah. Noah didn't know what else to do, but he was clearly fascinated, and he stood in her face yowling right back at her. I thought they were going to have a throwdown, but it never came to that. Sally didn't know what to make of the situation and stood there wagging her upward-curving mongrel tail like an animated punctuation mark.

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