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:
   only had his job for five days
Monday, July 9 2018
I anticipated the folks from the software shop across the Hudson getting back to me with a job offer today, so I spent it in anticipation (beginning in the bath I took after getting out of bed). On top of that, I had a phone screen with a recruiter from a food delivery service called MunchClub or BiteSquad (actually, it was the latter). I'd read it as "Bite Club" and made a "first rule of" joke on my cover letter, and apparently (though erroneous), it had caught the recruiter's eye. I'd taken a dose of Mexican ritalin before talking to the recruiter this afternoon, and I feel like I did a great job of selling myself, though I wasn't so impressed with the recruiter. He quickly admitted to having only had his job for five days, and he kept muttering the words "so you know LAMP stack" over and over again. He sounded like a guy with bad attention deficit disorder who probably should've been the one to eat that ritalin.
Later in the day, I got around to doing some painting in the new screened-in porch. I used the sage green, starting with the girder and the east ends of the rafters and collar ties in what will end up being a lot of painting (due to all the edges of all the exposed structure). After I'd painted maybe an eighth or sixteenth of all that will need to be painted, Gretchen and I looked at it and thought maybe we should go with a darker shade, that this particular sage green might be a bit too "medical."
Having never gotten a call from the software shop across the river, I was feeling rather depressed. So I lay down in bed and took a nap. Gretchen could tell I was depressed and tried to cheer me up. Eventually she and I went to the farm at the end of the Farm Road and took a dip in the pool, which only recently opened for the summer. Gretchen probably uses that pool more than any other human being, and yet she has to do nothing to maintain it.

A good thing to do when one is vaguely depressed (and feeling uselessly unemployed) is to watch old episodes of The Predator Chronicles on YouTube and think to yourself, "Well, at least I'm not as bad-off as those losers!" As an indication of how losery some these sexual predators are, one of them actually tries to hit up his prey for gas money after driving to her house. I feel like I've seen all this material before, but I don't remember that! A certain segment of the sexual predator population seems to be into underage girls mostly because of how cheap they are to "date."

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