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:
   dropped pins and early to bed
Sunday, January 5 2020
I spent most of the day going through my pictures from the India trip and trying to work out the details of where I'd done what based on pins I'd dropped on my phone's copy of Google Maps. Being able to save locations on Google Maps is a nice feature, but Google hasn't implemented it very well. It doesn't timestamp the dropped pins, which seems like an obvious thing to do, and the labeling options for pins are piss-poor. Why are there hundreds of emojis, but categories for dropped pins include only "Favorites," "Want to Go," and "Starred Places"? You can add a text label, but doing this is awkward, particularly on a phone.

In the early evening, I took a bath and then climbed into bed not long after 6:00pm. I was feeling weak, my intestines were a mess, and I felt like I was developing some sort of head cold, as I could feel increased mucous production in the back of my throat, which had hints of possibly becoming sore.

Meanwhile Gretchen had worked a whole day at the bookstore despite lingering illness. Adding to the misery of working in that condition, a woman came into the store and immediately freaked out to see that there was "a pit bull" in there. Gretchen did her best to ignore the crazy lady, who stormed out of the store swearing to never return. She then called the store to cancel an order she'd placed, all of which Gretchen handled in the sing-song professionalism such cases require. Later, though, the woman called back to relent somewhat, and even insisted that she'd been freaking out because Neville is dog, not a pit bull, despite what she'd clearly said when she'd first seen him. Honestly, I'm surprised Gretchen doesn't encounter more anti-pit-bull animus given all the people coming and going into that bookstore.

The state of the indoor woodpile this evening. Ian didn't burn much wood (and this after I'd burned five or six pieces since we returned home Friday).

The state of my fingernail hematomas today.

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