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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Like my brownhouse:
   white wine and blackeyed peas
Saturday, May 8 2010
Gretchen drove to Rhode Island today to give one of those poetry readings she occasionally gives. Typically such readings amount to about twenty minutes of actual reading, but they end up requiring two days of actual doing stuff because they must be driven to and there must be schmoozing afterwards.
In the afternoon I had a business meeting with my speculative business partner out on 212 near New World Home Cooking. The meeting could have actually been done at my house instead, but sometimes I need to force myself to leave and get out to do something by myself. Now that the Subaru is street legal again (it passed inspection after we'd let its inspection sticker lapse for two months), I feel empowered to drive and do things. So today after the meeting I drove to Home Depot and bought four ten foot long four inch sewer pipes so I could put my brownhouse ventilation on steroids. I also got 30 gallons of topsoil from one of the piles down on the Esopus floodplain near downtown Hurley.
Back at the house after the weather settled down, I spray painted those four sewer pipes black. They'll be climbing up the side of a hickory tree, and in their native white they would be an eyesore. Meanwhile the weather became increasingly cold, sinking far below seasonal norms.
At some point I made myself a blackeyed-pea salsa and busted into a bottle of white wine. People often regard white wine as somehow inferior, but it's a better beverage when one intends to do a lot of drinking all by one's self in front of a television. There's nothing worse than a red wine headache after an evening spent drinking alone.


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