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:
   my exhibitionist nature
Wednesday, January 15 1997 My housemates, Andrew particularly, have rented a 64 bit Nintendo Virtual Reality Machine. On the colour teevee, the Super Duper Mario World is astoundingly realistic. Ones view of the activity sweeps around and above and below our protagonist as he jumps, swims, runs, hops, and falls in a colourful world full of treasures, treachery, and monsters. The sound is almost as engrossing as the visual effects. The result of course, as is supposed to be the case with virtual reality, is that it sucks the player in. He loses all contact with the real world and becomes a pathetic addict. The living room has been taken over by this new personality, which sucks off the energy of my male housemates. They have abandoned their lives for this ridiculous machine! But I can understand the appeal; I have never seen anything so amazing in my life produced by the hands of men.

I worked two hours in the evening so Bn could go do something of a vaguely medical nature. And no, it was perfectly legal! The phones were ringing off the hook at Comet and it was hard to do all the cool things that I like to do.

I drove the Dodge Dart to the Downtown Mall to work more on my rooster in the Downtown Artspace. He was looking so good by the time I was finished that I didn't want to leave him. I wanted to stay and gaze at him. His head is fairly realistic but around his feet paint splatter chaos reigns supreme.

Jenfariello was there, of course, and she carried the very sad news that the Rising Sun Bakery has been sold. It was purchased by the 2nd Street Burrito woman, the one who wants to never be mentioned on the Internet because she believes there is something essentially wrong with Internet marketing (see the Dec 6th, 1996 entry). Where am I going to get my free coffee in the future, I wonder? Where will I go when I just want to get out of the house? What will become of the classy sign out in front? Does anyone know where the love of God goes when the wind turns the minutes to hours?

Then came the prework nap. Jenfariello had wanted me to join her at Michæl's Bistro (yet another Corner bar) but I was feeling too tired. I seem to have a milder version of the problem I had a year and a half ago, a blocked salivary duct. It's made the left side of my face sore but nor particularly swollen.

Rave reviews came pouring in for my musings from various people. For starters, here's this choice little blurb from Jessika's mother, Teri (another happy Erols customer,

youll never shut up will you...why would any one want to read all this mindless babble. NO wonder all your friends desert you.YOU have the emotional maturity of an eight year old.Go back to your chickens!

She obviously doesn't know about the kill the Gus feature!

Then there's my merry stalkers, Corey: and Elizabeth: at Microsoft in Seattle:

You mentioned in your Jan 14th musings that someone had been systematically reviewing your web page. I think you were probably refereing to us (my co-workers and I-not myself and the voices in my head). We work the graveyard shift in Microsofts technical support department and, as most of the world is sleeping, we spend long, boring hours surfing the net. For a few weeks browsing your page was a nightly ritual. But fear not, we are not derranged freaks and will not be lurking in the shadows of your home town anytime soon.
and some new guy:

Given the amount of time I've spent snooping around your site, I've wagered an email that the enclosed reference is to me.

You may be wondering why I keep looping through your pages. Compulsions are what they are.

Up to about 7 years ago, I was very good friends with a bohemian art type that bore an uncanny likeness to the the personna that you present in your pages. He was killed in an automobile accident in 1990. He was my best friend.

By looping through your pages, I'm remembering. Simple as that.

"Eerie" is the word. I should break this nostalgia loop and focus my attention elsewhere.

take care young Gus

mike mazurek []

So my exhibitionist nature is paying big dividends of an unfortunately non-pecuniary nature.

Jenfariello came over and I introduced her to Evan. We three sat around and discussed the tragedy of the Bakery's conversion to a bloated burrito stand. Burrito stands are breaking out everywhere it seems; yet another one is soon to appear on Elliewood only a block away. Jenfariello and I discussed the bitch issue again. It bothers her that she thinks I think she's a bitch or that my friends do. I keep trying to tell her that to the extent that she is a bitch, I like it!

Here's a scenario for you to ponder. Imagine if my life was perfect, if I was nice to everyone, if all I ever had to say was pleasant stuff. Imagine if every day people thought I was just the coolest guy they knew, and sent me email to this effect. Imagine me driving an expensive car, a Mercedes say, that never broke down, to occasionally visit the mansion where my billionaire parents raised me. Imagine that my girlfriend was the hottest babe in Charlottesville and she wouldn't consider anyone else in town except me. Imagine the huge pay checks from my perfect job, where all my co-workers got along with each other while liking me the most of all. Now imagine the musings I would write, the wonderful things I would say about everyone and everything. Imagine how nauseating it would be.

But no, I'm an asshole who cares only about myself, while blabbing too many details from the lives of my friends and waging slander on my enemies. My relationships with women all are on the rocks or verging on it, I drive cars that break down, and I get paid wages that should be utterly unacceptable for someone my age. And my musings reflect the pain as well as the wry humour that characterizes my life. They may not be completely honest, but there's still real stuff here.

Take Nilknarf for example. I'm a regular reader because there's interesting stuff there and it's updated every day. But I regularly skip the paragraphs where Doug talks about his "perfect relationship" with his wife. It makes for dull reading. My feeling is that either he's whitewashing the whole thing or he needs to generate more healthy conflict in his home and then write about that. But who am I to say, as I just said, all my relationships with women are disasters.

And I can't rest with my own girlfriends. I have to malign others....

Hey, another featured girlfriend!

Yes, in the continued interest of geek dudes Worldwide, I will again present you with a link to someone's girlfriend.

Today's girlfriend: Ellen. Hey...Christmas is a little hard on us all. For you guys who might want to try and get her away from Danny, I'm still pleased to recommend the Girlfriend Stealers' Homepage.

For linking purposes this article's URL is:

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