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").

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decay & ruin
Biosphere II
Chernobyl
dead malls
Detroit
Irving housing

got that wrong
Paleofuture.com

appropriate tech
Arduino μcontrollers
Backwoods Home
Fractal antenna

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   eight
Sunday, July 7 2002
Gretchen left today for a two-week writer's workshop somewhere up in Vermont, so I'm here in the house with the keeyads by myself. All this time devoid interruption should theoretically be very useful to a guy like me, but it didn't really work out in the way expected. I felt unusually tired at various times today, and caffeine did little to help my situation.
I think that the biggest fallibility of being in your teens is the inability to carry through on a long, complex, or otherwise grueling project. As one gets older, though, it seems one gains willpower. Once you reach your thirties, you're chock full of the stuff. You can make yourself do anything. Here's an example: I've read that as a man, I'm fifteen years past my sexual prime. But nonentheless today I made myself break a year-old personal best. The number now stands at eight, and five of those were in a twelve-hour period.

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