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:
   toss of the pink dice
Thursday, January 31 2008 [REDACTED]
I dropped Gretchen off at the bus station in Kingston late this morning and she left for two days in the City, where she'd be attending a writers' conference and socializing with her various city slicker friends.
This evening I went over to the neighbor Andrea's house for dinner, a meal also attended by Susan the New York Times best-selling author and a photographer named Jeff. The meal was a vegan affair comprised of chili, corn bread, and quinoa. Later we watched the first half of the Democratic primary debate in Los Angeles. We were in agreement in our support of Barack Obama over Hillary Clinton, though occasionally Hillary said things that we could agree with.

This evening I watched the beginning of Small Town Gay Bar a movie whose end I'd watched last night. It's a documentary about gay bars in small towns in the deep south. As I watched it, the thought kept coming back to me: these people (the gays and lesbians of the deep south) are basically freethinkers parachuting behind enemy lines in the heart of the land of unquestioning conformists. I couldn't help but think of the Darwinist explanation for this. There must be a strong survial advantage for our species in its constant low-level production of homosexuals. No matter how conservatively they are raised, they can't help but profoundly break with all the traditions and morals with which they are instilled, and their presence in all societies acts to undermine conformity, the kind that can trap a society in a perilous rut. This was true in medieval times, it was true in Taliban Afghanistan, and yes, it was even true in the most depressingly backwards regions of the deep South. I found myself feeling solidarity with these people. Remember, I also grew up as an odd duck in the Bible Belt, although my oddness came more directly from nature and nurture than it did from a toss of the pink dice.

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