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:
   crowing with a thousand silent roosters
Saturday, March 21 2009

Ray and Nancy, our friends from Brooklyn, were staying in Big Indian (a hamlet in the nearby Catskills) in celebration of Nancy's birthday. Tonight we met with them at the Egg's Nest in High Falls. Penny and David also showed up. The Egg's Nest is a reasonably good restaurant, though its decoration is the cluttered visual environment of a T.G.I.Fridays (handled in more of an authentically weird, homespun manner). I normally don't like going to the Egg's Nest with Ray and Nancy because (for whatever reason) its cluttered space makes me feel claustrophobic after a big meal, just as Ray is ramping into the s-l-o-w, d-e-l-i-b-e-r-a-t-e dessert menu ordering phase of the evening. I find dessert banter highly-irritating, particularly when my stomach is full and the walls are crowing with a thousand silent roosters.
Three of us (Ray, Penny, and I) ordered the fish and chips, and I also had two 60 Minute Dogfish IPAs, which is like a more refined and nuanced version of Kingston's own Hurricane Kitty. (I've had it here before and waxed similarly rhapsodic.) Happily, Gretchen had brought our dessert in the form of a dozen or so Mexican chocolate cupcakes she'd baked earlier in the day. I didn't mind others having dessert nearly as much when I didn't have to hear a waitress gushing about how sinful it was going to be.

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