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:
   something no longer to be endured
Tuesday, March 1 2005
A thick accumulation of light dry snow fell during the night, a rather unspringlike beginning for March, the fourth coldest month of the year. It didn't take me long to finish a driveway shoveling job begun by Gretchen. Such a big snowfall this late in the winter made me want to roll it back as best I could, and when I was done with the driveway I shoveled out the paths, one to the head of the Stick Trail and another up to the Farm Road. I'd never go to such trouble at the height of winter, when snow is something that must be endured.
I was back at Mavis Discount Tire again this afternoon, this time to replace the Honda's flat tire, which was also bald. Because of the weather nobody else was there, so the job would only take ten minutes. So I just stayed in the waiting room watching Cops on the television there. I'd hadn't seen it in years, mostly because it's not the sort of thing Gretchen would ever watch and I have no idea what channel it's on. I suppose it's my maleness manifesting or something, but I always find the show fairly entertaining, despite how idiotic it is and despite the fraudulent message it sends out, that if you run you will get caught. (Juvenile delinquents in the audience, let me tell you something: back in the day I ran from the cops on multiple occasions and I was never once caught, no matter my substance impairment at the time.)

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