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:
   awaking from a nap with a buzz
Saturday, January 14 2023
Gretchen and I got up late, but we nevertheless had our usual Saturday morning ritual in the living room with the New York Times Spelling Bee written out on a piece of cardboard and a french press of coffee for me to drink. At some point my brother Don called from Virginia, mostly to remind me that it was our mother's 86th birthday. But she wasn't even there at the time; Joy Tarder had taken her out for a meal at Wendy's, where (reportedly) the chili is good. Don said they'd be bringing him back some chili too.
Eventually I went out with a backpack and the big Kobalt chainsaw and processed some wood on the steep slope southwest of where the Stick Trail crossed the Chamomile. I found a smallish skeletonized chestnut oak to cut down, though I also cut up some smallish skeletonized white pine and even removed a stove-compatible length of a massive trunk of a white ash that had fallen across the Chamomile a couple hundred feet upstream from where it crosses the Stick Trail. (That piece will need to be split up before I have any chance of carrying it home.)
This evening I ate a fairly large bud of cannabis and then went off to take a nap, as my sleep deficit seemed to have caught up with me. When I awoke, I was having a full-fledged cannabis high. It giving me a number of interesting ideas, one of which was musical. It went like this (and had a melody which I don't know how to write down):

Sounds like pop
But it's unpopular
Twist and shout
All the way from Liz Phair.

I got up and went into the laboratory and watched YouTube videos, including some by Scotty Kilmer, who is a septugenarian auto mechanic and something of a cranky uncle when it comes to electric cars. He hates them and thinks people will soon be abandoning them when the fad passes. He had a whole exposé on the dangers of Tesla's self-driving technology (particularly when it's being tested in indulgent places that undervalue human life, such as China). Under the effects of cannabis, it occurred to me that a savvy Tesla firmware might try to maximize the lethality of a crash once it starts to happen so as to make sure there are no human survivors. No survivors means no witnesses.
I was a little paranoid that Gretchen might be upset if I spent the whole evening in the laboratory watching YouTube videos. So at some point I went down to the living room to noodle around on a laptop while she was in the teevee room watching a program called Vienna Blood. I found that just listening to its moody orchestral soundtrack was pairing nicely with my buzz. Eventually I went up and joined Gretchen on the couch to watch the program, something I almost never do when she's watching one of "her" shows.
When we were done watching that, both of us sat together in the living room reading our respective books (her an actual book, me a Chromebook). Eventually I cracked open a Hazy Little Thing to take the edge off my buzz. We eventually went to bed after midnight.

For linking purposes this article's URL is:

previous | next