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
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Like my brownhouse:
   spaghetti and a possible illness
Sunday, November 26 2023

location: rural Hurley Township, Ulster County, NY

Gretchen hadn't had a proper plate of spaghetti the whole time we'd been in Portugal, so for lunch she boiled up a package of bucatini, which is just an even better spaghetti. We just ate it with Rao's marinara sauce with a little Yumm! sauce mixed in.

Gradually throughout the day, I felt a nagging sense that I wasn't firing on all cylinders. Initially I thought my problem might just be jet lag. But occasionally I'd feel an urge to cough that didn't feel justified by environmental conditions. And those coughs seemed to be increasing in frequency. By dinner time, I was feeling like it made sense not to sit too close to Gretchen for fear of giving her what I thought I might possibly have. I told her my concerns, and we decided it was best if I slept on the beanbag in the laboratory. That made the cats very happy, since they'd missed me terribly (well, Oscar and Diane had; I think Lester might perfer Fern and her new boyfriend over Gretchen and me).

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