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:
   John's Birthday Party
Saturday, January 25 1997 Jen left to do her job as a counter girl at the Rising Sun Bakery. She told me that when I leave that I should wake her roommate Ami to have her let me out so I wouldn't leave the door unlocked upon departing. But Ami was looking very much like she should remain asleep. And I always like to figure out ways by which I can do everything I need to do BY MYSELF. So I looked for a string with which to loop over the twist handle on the dead bolt that I needed to lock behind me. I found no string, however, and was forced to use the laces from one of my boots. I put the loop around one side of the handle and ran the string under the door and out. After a few tries and lots of interest expressed by the cats, I had success in locking the door irretrievably behind me. Unfortunately, my lace didn't come off as I thought it would and the cats didn't unhook it even though I encouraged them to through the door. I tried using a hemlock stick to push the string off from under the door, but I had no luck at all. I ended up having to pull the string up along the door and cut it off at the door frame, loosing several inches of it.

I drank a little coffee at the Bakery and went to work. Here at Comet I've been swamped with all manner of phone calls and visitors. First there was my mother. She had a remarkable story to tell me about an older friend of hers who works at a group home for the retarded. It seems this older woman, an attractive red head in her sixties, fell in love with one of the retarded clients, a young adult male. She moved him out of the group home to live with her. There is nothing illegal or unethical about this. It is just a very strange thing. But in a way it is also a beautiful thing. If these clients are fully human, as we pretend and loudly proclaim they are, then they are as entitled to love and happiness as any of the rest of us, with any of us so inclined in a reciprocal manner. But the result is that the sixty-something year old woman was fired from her job at the group home. A legal case will surely come of this and no doubt a movie will follow. It's a compellingly wonderful and evocative story.

Nathan VanHooser also came by to pick up some software I had downloaded from the Internet. There was something weird about Nathan's aura today though; everything machine he touched either immediately stopped functioning or crashed. It was as if King Midas were touching things and finding them transformed to shit without fanfare.

I rode my bike to the Alcohol Beverage Control store on Main near the Mall to get a bottle of Jim Beam and another of cheap Aristocrat Rum. My mother had told me to pick up a bottle for housemate John since he was having a little party tonight and she'd really enjoyed her stay at my house.

I was very sleepy though and so took a nap that lasted longer than an hour.

Let's see, then came a small dinner party for which food had been prepared by many. Ches had made some succulent chicken dish. Elizabeth had made a potato and onion soup, there were two varieties of lasagna, and Steve's girlfriend Shelly had even made a "white trash" salad featuring baby marshmallows.

We ate this in the dining room. Since there were more than a dozen of us, every action required contortions and calculations normally suited to the solution of a Chinese puzzle. There were some minor incidents of spilled wine, one of which resulted in me being blamed by the perpetrator after it soaked through her clothes. There is no justice in this world.

Then Matthew Hart and Torrin (the guy who never looks at you when he talks to you) showed up. They are an unlikely pair, which made me think that all of Matthew Hart's many friends must be out of town these days.

he used someone's ID to slip open the door to the horrid apartment
I joined them and we three walked down to the horrid apartment on Wertland. Outside of that place, which was locked, we met Morgan Anarchy, a very drunk Cecelia the Brazilian Girl and this other punk dude who lives down on the corner of Wertland and 10th on the skirt of the hood. His name is Mike or something like that. Anyway, he used someone's ID to slip open the door to the horrid apartment, since no one was there. We all started hanging out and listening to the Pogues. Cecelia hid the rum, which I'd thought to bring along, in some back room. She wanted her sister Leticia to have some later when she got off work from the C&O.

Our stay there didn't last long, however. Josh Smith and Jeremey, guys who actually pay the rent and have keys, came home and kicked us all out. Josh was particularly rude to Torrin. But Torrin is the sort of guy who inspires rudeness.

Back at my house, then, the Big Party was busy happening. A keg had arrived, you know the deal. As usual, the halls were packed with increasingly intoxicated humanity, a substantial fraction of which being my punk rock friends. One of these people eventually stole the tap; I'm sure of this because I know that "stealing a tap" was recently discussed at the horrid apartment. I'll keep a lookout for it there.

Matthew Hart managed to have yet another confrontation with Annette, the very same Annette he ran across a year ago in the Tokyo Rose and whom he at the time labeled a "weak ass." She's a friend of the house, see. I don't know how the confrontation began or ended but it was pretty heated as I passed it in the hall. Everyone got the impression that they're in love with each other, but Matthew contends she's an idiot.

Bill Egan and his youthful perennial companion, Eliza of large meat pizza fame, made there inevitable appearance. Bill kept remarking that a hippie girl there named Wendy (who closely resembles my old girlfriend Leslie Montalto) was the most beautiful girl there. He kept staring at her, amusing Eliza.

But a boyfriend she'd neglected to mention kept popping through the door.
I got to talking to this tall blond freshman girl named Sara (not the one who works at the Bakery). She was awfully impressed with my art. I sometimes forget that I'm an impressive individual and focus too much on the other person, and such apparent humility is always endearing. I wanted to have her listen to Guided By Voices since she seemed to like classic rock (she can't help it; she's like I was when I was 18). So invited her to my room with the proviso that I hoped I wasn't being too weird. And nothing particularly weird came of all this. But a boyfriend she'd neglected to mention kept popping through the door. She eventually left with him.

And I went to the horrid crash pad again and this time met up with BOTH Brazilian Girls and Morgan Anarchy. We couldn't find anywhere to go except my house again.

Earlier in the evening, Morgan and friends had interpretted the vanishing of my rum as a theft, and gone to a house down on Wertland to kick some ass and "return with the rum and blood on our knuckles." But of course, Cecelia had hidden it. They couldn't get rum from a house where none actually existed, of course, so they'd stolen gin and beer instead.

He has all the grace of an infant at its mothers nipple or a heroin addict with a newly purchased fix...
By now, however, the rum had been recovered from Cecelia's hiding place and Morgan started chugging it. He's really a pretty pathetic figure when around alcohol. He has all the grace of an infant at its mothers nipple or a heroin addict with a newly purchased fix...he turns up the bottle and chugs as much as he can. I'm so glad my housemates urged him to drink from a glass. But the first of these he spilled and the second he vomitted into the yard.

Speaking of vomitting, Leticia was extremely drunk too. And she doesn't drink very much or very often. I have no idea where her alcohol had come from. Cecelia kept taking her to the bathroom so she could vomit as well.

And then Morgan and Cecelia were kissing each other drunkenly while I discussed with birthday boy John some recent soap operas that have taken place in real life there on Wertland Street.

By the way, Morgan's respect for John increased enormously when he discovered that he was yet another Aquarius. Morgan has what he terms "Aquarius pride."

wholesome girlfriends over the Internet...

today, courteousy of Altavista, I present another girlfriend.

Today's featured girlfriend is...
Anita. Kansas is full of such ladies. But beyond the rainbow...

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