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:
   hurrying through the all-natural tortillas
Sunday, February 25 2018
While Gretchen and Neville were off at the bookstore, I smoked some pot unusually early in the day and proceeded to watch yet another recent mind-bendy science fiction classic, Primer, a super low-budget film about two (oddly and unfailingly) smartly-dressed physics entrepreneurs who accidentally invent a time machine while trying to electronically counteract gravity. It's all very mumblecore and jargon-heavy, and impossible to follow without watching several times (and also reading articles about it online). One thing that helped me understand what the hell was happening was a diagram of the time travel on the film's Wikipedia page. Even then, it's also helpful to know two things about the "boxes" that are used for time traveling. The first of these is that when someone emerges from the box in the past, if someone were to go and open the box after that, they would find that person still in the box traveling backwards in time. And if one were to go to the box and open it shortly after someone had entered it to travel back in time, they would find it empty. Theoretically a parade of people could enter a box, though I'm not sure what would happen with all those timelines on the other end.

This afternoon I drove out to Woodstock to pick up Neville from the bookstore so Gretchen could go do other things with her evening. On the way there, I stopped at the Hurley Ridge Hannaford for provisions like mushrooms, bloody mary mix, and three cans of refried beans. Neville was dealing with paparazzi as I arrived, and I got to bask briefly in his fame halo. "What would I do to make him like me?" one woman asked. "Northing," I replied. We stopped at the Tibetan Center thrift sttore on the way home, but there was nothing there I wanted to buy.

I've been eating pretty much nothing but burritos since Gretchen bought me a bag of all-natural whole-wheat tortillas, the kind that have no weird playdough aftertaste but also are quickly occupied by mold if not devoured. My aim is to eat them all without losing any to expanding circular colonies of fungi. To that end, tonight I fried up some mushrooms with onions and Lightlife SmartBacon and added that to the refried beans I'd been spreading on the tortillas as they toast over an open gas flame on the stovetop. With a few sliced jalapeños and lettuce, that was some good eating right there.


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