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:
   fun with Percocet
Wednesday, February 18 1998

efore I fell asleep last night, Matthew and Angela were having one of their retarded fights. Matthew was slamming around and shouting and Angela was quietly hiding in the bathroom. At times like this I derive a sadistic pleasure from imagining Leah bent over Rory's Jimi Hendrix collection and Rory fanning her ass with his proud British balls.

Matthew always skips over that one song called "Rory Rides Me Raw" on his newly-purchased The Vaselines CD.

Rory Rides Me Raw

Galloping through the morning dew,
There is only one thing that I want to do to you,
And its true that I'm going to do it soon.

Rory rory ride rory
Rory rory ride rory
Rory ride me slowly,
Ride me raw raw raw.

Stride on your back rocking to ride,
I got the feeling we're gonna gallop alright,
And It's true that I'm gonna do it soon.

Galloping through the morning dew,
There's only one thing I that I want to do to you,
And it's true, that I'm gonna to do it soon.
It'll take three to satisfy me,
'Cause I'm more of a man than you'll ever be.
Rory, ride me slowly, ride me true, ride me true.


oday the rain has stopped, the air is clammy but fairly warm, and the skies are dreary and grey. I'm at UVA's Olssen Hall mainly to download X-Windows for my LINUX computer. I have my ZIP drive with me and hope I can connect it to one of the hobbled but networked Windows 3.1 machines.

A little while ago I was watching Jenny Jones, a show entitled "Make My Gothic Queen into a Normal Teen." Typical of these sorts of shows, a group of gay hair stylists and clothiers had been hired and did their best to make cute gothic chicks into vaguely overweight, somewhat housewife-ish Spice Girls while the audience went nuts with relieved applause. It was an unsettling thing to behold, like watching a group of bumbling eight year olds trying to get butterflies to come out of their chrysalises prematurely.


ercocet. That's the drug that I am on right now. I mixed it with a little beer to amplify its effects. Angela's mother received a prescription of the stuff, but she didn't want any so she gave the prescription to her grateful daughter with the simple advice, "be careful with these." I can't imagine my mother doing a similar thing with me, but then again, I can't imagine going through all the bother of actually getting the prescription filled. I'm not really all that into drugs, and would never consider driving to Philadelphia on a heroin run, hanging out in Garrett Square (Charlottesville's "projects") trying to score some crack, or any of the myriad other drug missions I've seen my friends do. I will occasionally steal tussin and drink it, and I'll jump through all kinds of hoops for booze and beer, but I digress. I took tonight's Percocets because they were offered to me. They're okay, but I have nothing amazing to report. I feel a body-wide fullness, a little euphoria, along with a trace of anxiety and nausea.

I'm installing X Windows on my 486 LINUX box as I type. It's amazing how fast I was able to download it over at UVA. My portable ZIP drive is proving to be a handy alternative to a local ISP account. When substituting for a modem connection it's got terrible latency but incredible bandwidth.


n the afternoon I watched that town meeting where Madeline Albright tried to sell the bombing of Iraq to the American people. I've never seen such a publicity debacle, but in a way it made me proud to be an American. In just about any nation (even enlightened places such as France) those hecklers and demonstrators would have been marched roughly from the room and possibly clubbed unconscious out in back. In Columbus, Ohio, however, they were allowed to carry on with their shouting and chanting. "One two three four! We don't want your racist war!" It was very sixties, very retro, and a little embarrassing. I even felt sorry for Madeline Albright. As tough as she deports herself, she looked like she might start crying. Sometimes I wonder if women are really cut out for this leadership stuff. I know I'm not cut out for it, but I've never made any claims of being a typical man.

As much as war sucks, as ridiculous as the American military seems to me, I have mixed feelings about bombing the piss out of Iraq. If it's true that Saddam Hussein has stockpiles of biological and chemical weapons, he's a serious threat to the world and something must be done about him. He may not be Hitler, but that's only because Iraq is no Germany and the Kurds aren't the Jews. It would be hard to imagine a worse villain than Saddam even in fiction. Here's a guy who kills his own family when they get in his way, and he's commissioned paintings that feature him striding beside Hammurabi and Nebuchadnezzar. He builds kindergartens next to weapons stockpiles. I'm sure my family disagrees with me, but I'll be sort of happy when I wake up and hear that Iraq is getting its ass kicked.

On the other hand, my weakly compassionate liberal inclinations remind me that the Iraqis themselves have suffered enough. No one really seems to be on their side. It's hard to believe there's no way for a nation as wealthy as America to kill off just that one little socially maladjusted thug.

I'm also wondering about who exactly gives the Clinton Administration its political advice. I've been on college campuses in Ohio, and I can tell you that war is not exactly an uncontroversial topic there. The Kent State massacre, as you may recall, went down in Ohio. (I used to sing "Four Dead in Oh-Five-Oh" in mocking tribute to the movie theatre in the basement of Oberlin College's Mudd library; Neil Young songs are fun and easy to manipulate.) When I was at Oberlin (in northern Ohio), student-initiated heckling of visiting warlords was a fairly common occurrence. How could Clinton's public relations people have made such a terrible mistake? They should have called me first. I could have told them this would happen.

Then there's this part of me that finds a certain deliciousness in watching the noses of the high and mighty rubbed in the feces of those they routinely ignore.

The thing that sucks, though, is that the only one who really benefits from the students' protests is Saddam Hussein himself.


'm really feeling nauseated and anxious right now. I don't think Percocet is my drug of choice.

I just got back from the bathroom. I'd been throwing up the complete unabridged contents of my stomach. It was soupy and orange, and there was a recognizable mushroom in there too. That was the first time I vomited in over a year in a half.

    The previous time I puked, I was drinking box vino and floating down the James River on an inner tube with Jessika, Deya, Joanna Road Rage, Joanna's then-boyfriend Forrest, and Deya's little Swedish cousin Ando.

Having puked, however, I feel much better.

one year ago

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