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:
   tea party
Friday, April 24 1998

  got up unusually late for some reason. Much of the daylight was spent at Olssen Hall. Sometimes I need a little of that no-risk community that the Internet constitutes for me.

I watched both Simpsons reruns up in my room while typing. I heard activity downstairs, and when I went to investigate, I found Wacky Jen dramatically cooking up dinner while Jessika and Peggy looked on.


hen dinner was done, Jessika called me down. It was some kind of weird spaghetti thing, and very good mind you.

After dinner, Peggy told me about a dream where the segments had overlain like leaves (or Windows 95/Chernobyl 86). She went home and was replaced by Deya, who had been working overtime and was obviously in a bad mood as she fed her baby rats. She eventually went off to take a nap.

As always in our house, Deya was to have no monopoly on negative attitudes. Jessika asked into the dining room "do you want some tea?" I didn't know that she was just talking to Wacky Jen, so I said sure. She responded that I could make my own tea if I wanted some. I don't know how I should have taken this, but I was highly insulted, especially to be treated this way in front of Wacky Jen. Jessika and I fought about this issue for several minutes afterwards while Wacky Jen looked on in wonderment. I pointed out that I would have never insulted Jessika in a similar way, and that I was tired of being singled out for special abuse. Jessika responded that I'd drunk a lot of her tea and she thought I should make myself my own tea (I recently bought a large box of Jasmine) if I wanted some. But then I pointed out that I'd had no idea what tea she was making, that who knew, it was a big pot or something. Besides, I pointed out, Jessika was always eating my food and I didn't care. It was, as you can see, a big fight over small things, but for me it was representative of this overall feeling I get that Jessika doesn't regard me with sufficient respect, that she takes advantage of me in a whole set of subtle ways. I went off to my room; I didn't even want to look at her anymore.

Jessika came to my room later to further discuss the matter, but what could be said? She was more apologetic than usual, I guess that's something. All I really had to say was that I'm sick of being insulted in the way to which she has apparently grown accustomed. I think she's used to me and I've become like family, someone whose feelings aren't important. But this sort of thing is causing an accumulation of tension. In several stages I've given up a lot of emotional baggage just to live with her, and yet she still finds unusual new ways to make me suffer. Not that I really think her motives are bad or anything; I'm convinced she's still fond of me.


  came downstairs after awhile and chatted with Wacky Jen, Deya and Jessika about a variety of things. I asked Jen about the WNRN-WTJU rivalry, since she's part of that radio DJ scene. WTJU is the older of the two non-profit alternative radio stations, and Michæl Friend, a one-time DJ there, decided to start his own station, WNRN, in 1996. His goal was to focus more on Rock and Hip-Hop and less on Folk and Jazz. Friend managed to take several key DJs with him, and his Hip-Hop show (the Boom Box) became phenomenally popular. These things have made him into a sort of anti-Christ for the WTJU people, including the likes of Darius, Haunted House Tyler and Amy from Memphis. Furthermore, the girlfriend of Darius, a woman named Leslie, once went on a date with Friend and though he didn't pay for the nachos that were ordered, he thought he had the necessary privileges to put his hand on her thigh!

The girls have gone on a walk, but I'm here at home. Here I am, plinking away while Guided by Voices play "Underwater Explosions."

an interesting mistake


ome weeks ago, Jessika was in the bathroom, spending endless time (as usual) experimenting with "products." She found a bottle of stuff that claimed to be an exfoliating astringent, so she dabbed it on her face. It smelled kind of funny, but she could only imagine how good her face was going to look when it did its little thing.

A few days passed and Jessika discovered that her face had become incredibly dry. It felt like it was covered with zillions of tiny bumps. It wasn't acne and it wasn't anything with which she'd ever had experience. She feared her face was falling off. Over time, little flakes began to form.

A few more days later, Jessika was about to do a laundry, so Deya brought some detergent down from the bathroom for her. Wouldn't you know, it was in a bottle labeled "facial astringent." Deya likes to recycle bottles, but the labels usually stay the same. Jessika had been putting laundry detergent on her face!

When Jessika discovered the reality behind her facial woes, she chuckled with relief to finally know the source of her problems.

an orange microphone


ecently we discovered that Wilbur the Cockatiel will sing whenever an orange peel is placed in front of his face. In the presence of an orange peel, he is especially co-operative at mimicking requested whistles and calls that he knows well. We wondered if perhaps it was the colour that induced him to sing, but nothing orange except citrus fruits seemed to excite him. Later, though, we tried a variety of other fragrant substances including wine, smelly cheese and orange juice. We discovered that it was actually strong, fruity odours that caused him to sing, not colour. As of yet, we have no satisfactory explanation for this behaviour.

one year ago

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