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:
   April Fools Microwave
Wednesday, April 1 1998

  had bad series of dreams about the state of my relationship with my housemates. In one such dream, Jessika had gained a lot of weight and I walked in on her dressed in scanty bondage gear sexually dominating Sara Poiron. In this compromised state, she pretended I wasn't even there. For those who came late or have forgotten, it's Sara who is the dominatrix.

It wasn't my intent to start a cold war, mind you. I just needed a little vacation from the intense, nearly exclusive socializing we do together. I'm more of a loner than Jessika seems to think.

Well, this morning we were finally back on speaking terms (Jessika wouldn't even look at me yesterday). On my way to the coffee machine for that first necessary cup, I announced that a microwave oven was en route to our humble abode, a replacement for Matthew Hart's old oven (the one that was destroyed by the exploding box o' vino). You see, Spring of (she keeps an online journal and even made it to the Aquarius Party) had told me via email that she was coming down for the day to bring me a new one. Well, immediately after Deya had set off for work, Spring arrived in a minivan. She brought not only a microwave oven, but a cane swivel rocking chair as well. She'd found these things while trash picking where she lives at Fort Meade (between Baltimore and D.C., not far from dreaded Columbia). According to Spring, military bases are excellent places for trash picking since the occupants are forced to move on a frequent basis. The microwave oven was a larger older model, but it worked just fine. It actually increased our shelf space with its wide top surface (upon which we'll take pains not to spill liquids).

Jessika was happy about the oven, but there was still tension from yesterday, tension that hadn't been resolved in any but preliminary non-verbal ways. So she spent most of her time upstairs while I chatted with Spring. We talked about the challenges of keeping an online journal and balancing the needs of reality with the needs of the readership. I said that I thought my journal was intruding too much on my life, that maybe I should slowly wean it of its nonfictional content and gradually replace all the characters with fictional ones, perhaps starting with a massive fictional upheaval on April Fools Day. Spring suggested I make better use of my sadly neglected mailing list. Perhaps that's a better idea. We also discussed freelance webdesign, something with which she seems to be having more success than me. But then again, I'm not really trying very hard. Good thing I have a steady unemployment check.

Today being rent day, those checks got to strut their stuff. Since it looked like it might rain, Spring volunteered to drive me to the landlord's place, where I settled up with big convenient bills.





ometime in the mid - afternoon, Spring headed back home to Maryland. I made a peace offering to Jessika by offering her some leftover fried chicken I'd brought with me from Staunton yesterday. The newly - installed microwave oven handled the reheating as expected. This paragraph is disturbing me with the way it reads, let's stop this one and move on to the next one.

Jessika and I never really discussed the troubles between us, we just started acting friendly towards each other again. Interestingly, art performed a positive social function to promote societal rehealing. Art, you see, is one of our "common interests," one I'd conveniently left out of Monday's negative analysis. Jessika has been working on a "black and mirror painting" of her face, based on a high-contrast xerox image. She'd been piecing together the white parts with bits of fractured mirror and leaving the black surface to show through to represent shadows. She worked more on this today while I broke out my acrylic paints and painted the image (12 by 16 inches) above. I worked on this painting on and off all day, sometimes while under the influence of vodkatea.

In the evening, after Deya came home, all of us intermittantly paid attention to VH1 (there was an interesting special on Elton John) while working on our art projects. For her part, Deya is making a mobile out of little rectangular paper boxes that vaguely resemble flying saucers.

We also began teaching Wilbur the Cockatiel how to whistle the little oriental-sounding bridge in the song "Turning Japanese." Doo-dee-doo doo-doo doo doo dee. Nine notes is a lot, but he mastered five of them immediately, so I think he can do it.





n April Fools-related news, this morning we found a board on our front porch, one upon which the word "FOOL" had been stenciled. From this board flew three pink survey flags, each labled "J," "D" and "G" after the residents of the house. No doubt Wacky Jen was responsible.

Jessika reported that someone had spray painted the Haunted House's decorative hubcap (which hangs on the front door) yellow. No one had defaced our decorative hubcap, however.

one year ago

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