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:
   too much snail, not enough cinnamon
Saturday, July 5 2014
I had a moderately-bad hangover when I woke up this morning, which was completely to be expected after the relentless drinking I'd done yesterday. Unfortunately, I couldn't spend the day doing low-key things around the house. There was a big festival to attend at the animal sanctuary in Willow, and nearly everyone we know would be there. Also, we had to get there early so as not to get stuck in a long line at the Cinnamon Snail, a vegan food cart from New York City that is famous for the long lines that lead to it. We arrived only a half hour into the festival, and there were only a dozen or so people in front of us in line at the Cinnamon Snail cart. When we made it to the front, Gretchen ordered two huge sandwiches, a bunch of savory baked goods, and a signature Cinnamon Snail cinnamon roll. After being distracted by a few conversations with people we knew along the way, we went into a tent equipped with tables and proceeded to chow down. Our friend Stacy the Abortion Doctor sat with us for most of that time, but eventually she decided to get in line for the Cinnamon Snail, which now had at least 50 people in it. From then on, the festival was all about standing in lines. We'd meet a friend and tell them they needed to get in line for the Cinnamon Snail immediately or they'd never get any food, but then (as in the case of our friend Mark), they'd get distracted by a crisis involving a dog left in someone's car (he was overreacting; the day was a cool one, the car was in the shade, and the car's windows were down), and so we'd take a place in the line and serve as placeholder until they (or, in the case of Mark, he) showed up. I spent a fair amount of time in the line all by myself, a bored human placeholder. Occasionally I'd be joined by friends such as Sarah the Vegan. And once I'd done my duty, I was off to look at the ducks in the duckpond when Nancy (of Ray and Nancy) with Ray's friend Eric and Sarah the Vegan waved me over. So then I talked with them for 20 minutes until the line very slowly moved out of the shade and into the sunlight. I couldn't take much of that, so soon thereafter I really did go and look at the ducks. Ducks are such fun to watch with their tail wags, their submerged headstands, and the way they dapple their bills in the water. Also, the because of their constant exposure to cleaning, they don't have the nasty cloacas that chickens always seem to have.
Our friends Susan and David showed up a little on the late side, and they'd brought Susan's 13 year old niece S (I'm not going to attempt to spell her name) with the hopes of giving her a favorable impression of vegan food. David took a place in the Cinnamon Snail line well behind the places I'd served as a human bookmark, in a section of line that might have actually been moving backwards. (At some point far enough from the destination of any line, it begins to move backwards as the pressure of people allowed by friends to cut in adds up to overcome any people coming off the end of the line.) Variations of "they don't call it the Cinnamon Snail for nothing," were said repeatedly, and eventually David gave up on it and abandoned his place in line. (Mind you, the messy Korean seitan-with-kim-chi wrap I'd eaten was great, but no food is worth standing in line for 90 minutes.) Meanwhile Susan and S were in the veggie burger line. But the veggie burgers were all gone, and they were left with a mediocre kale salad and a disgusting interpretation of baked beans (how is it possible to fuck that up?). Suffice it to say, S was not getting a good first impression of veganism. Ultimate, Susan and David were forced to leave the festival and take the girl to a restaurant.
Suffice it to say, the lines, and the need to stand in them, was kind of ruining the festival for me. Unlike Gretchen, the ability to chat with friends in a line did not compensate much for the ordeal of standing in it. Happily, there were beers available, and eventually I went and got my second one (a Bengali Tiger IPA) and drank it with Nancy, Eric, and Sarah as they ate their Cinnamon Snail food, which they'd spent an hour and a half in line to get.
Since Gretchen would be going straight from the festival to work at the bookstore in Woodstock, I needed a ride home. Ultimate, I went with Sarah, Nancy, and Eric (Sarah was driving). Sarah wanted to see the new cat Oscar and give us some toys that do not interest her new toothless cat. (I think she's decided to name her Agnes.) So I we all met Oscar, who was sitting under the southeast corner of the upstairs bed more-or-less immobile. That allowed people to touch him, but it wasn't an especially interactive experience. Seeing the new kayak in the living room was definitely a richer media experience, as was the tour of the greenhouse. (Sarah and Nancy had seen it before, but not Eric.) The basement was a worthy spectacle; the excavation in the floor was completely full of water from recent rains, and there was an enormous wolf spider on the wall.
Soon after everyone left, I took a long nap in the upstairs bedroom. After I woke up, I realized I'd had absolutely no caffeine at all today. I decided to continue the caffeine fast until Sunday morning coffee tomorrow.

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