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:
   Bleecker intelligence
Saturday, August 18 2012

location: southwest corner of Lake Edward, Fulton County, New York

On her morning dog walk, Gretchen ran across the guy in the neighboring house, who we'd already chatted with a couple times and seen fishing from his battery-powered boat. This time, though Gretchen got pulled into his universe of gossip and other useful Bleecker Township intelligence. It turned out that this guy also rents out a cabin. It would cost $500 less per week than what we'd just paid, and though it would be smaller and less private, the interior is much lovelier and there would be WiFi (in fact, it's his WiFi signal that I've been using). Our dogs would also be welcome. Gretchen also learned about the A-frame we'd been interested in. The story is that the owner is wealthy but deeply underwater on the property, particularly after getting a team of Amish to come in a wagon train to install that completely unnecessary barn. Still, there was no way we could get it for as little as $125,000 (Gretchen's idea of what it was worth).
Today was the day we'd be leaving our temporary home on Lake Edward, but before departing, Gretchen and I went on one last kayak paddle, first landing on and exploring the granite outcrop I'd visited yesterday. Then we both paddled around Swampy Inlet Island, each going around its far side from separate directions. Last night some people had showed up at one of the structure-free white trash landings (43.115113N, 74.367855W) on the southwest end of the lake and proceeded to party as if it had been 2099. The music had been so loud that Gretchen had been able to recognize the songs as they wafted across the water. At least one was by Pearl Jam. This morning as we kayaked past the trash-and-boat-strewn site, there weren't many signs of life aside from a beat up old pickup truck whose driver's side door had been left open.

After packing our car, we headed for home, eventually stopping again at the new Albany Trader Joes, where we bought about $370 worth of groceries using two carts. Our car didn't seem to be handling all that well for any of today's driving, leaving me to wonder if perhaps Mavis had installed a defective pair of shock absorbers.

Back home, I was relieved to see that the local deer population hadn't taken advantage of the dogs' absence and devastated the garden. And no bears had taken similar advantage to overturn the 30 gallon can of human excrement that I'd recently removed from the brownhouse.

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