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:
   grimy apartments in Albany
Tuesday, May 25 2021
Gretchen and Powerful drove up to Albany today to look at some potential places for him to rent while working on his master's degree. They ended up appalled by the grimy, dingy places they'd arranged to see. One place, for example, had experienced a kitchen fire only a week ago.
At the end of my workday, I wanted to run an errand in town to get rid of some cans for which I could redeem deposits. I also wanted to get rid of some dead CF bulbs I'd been hoarding for many years in deep storage in the laboratory, thinking I'd salvage their electronics some day. As I've since gotten rid all my unused good CF bulbs, it made no sense to keep the bad ones. Home Depot accepts old CF bulbs no questions asked. I had trouble finding the place where this is done (it's outside of the store itself, in the entranceway, perhaps to keep mercury vapor out of the store). I then went to the Hannaford on 9W to return my cans. I managed to feed two such cans into the machine before it choked and an alarm went off, so I just left my bag of Hazy Little Thing next to the machine and went into the store; it was not worth my time to wait around for a machine to be fixed so I could recover my full fifty cents' worth of deposits. I ended up buying another 12 pack of Hazy Little Thing IPA and five or six pints of vegan Ben & Jerry's icecream.
Back at the house, I did a little more gardening, tilling more of the garden west of the main plot and planting six kale seedlings.
Meanwhile, one of the cats had turned a chipmunk loose in the upstairs bedroom. Gretchen saw the little guy in the bathroom window, so we figured he'd be able to get out on his own if we removed the screens from the windows and closed the door to the master bedroom suite. After an hour or two with the bedroom like this, I figured he'd managed to escape. But in the middle of the night when I was sleeping out on the couch in the living room, I heard his sharp little squeak. [Sadly, I'd find his corpse on the floor at the bottom of the stairs the next morning. He hadn't been able to escape and had been caught, tortured, and killed by one or more of the cats.]

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