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:
   pulled three ways
Wednesday, January 13 1999
Deadline stress continues. We are all reluctant robots, striving towards the impossible goal, strung out on confused ideologies, allegiances and selfishness. If we were actually in Heaven's Gate, we wouldn't be so much worse off, and the deadline would also have greater significance.
In my life in these times, I'm pulled between the demands of my girlfriend, the demands of my boss, and my own demands. When I get home at the end of the day, all I want is my glass of Lemon Zinger vodkatea. But I'm expected to want more.
If I was by myself out on the highway, I might get bored. I might get very bored indeed. Then I might get hungry and I'd wonder how I'd pay for my next Jumbo Jack. Eventually the cold lonely nights would accumulate behind me and I'd wonder how I'd satiate my sex drive.
Somehow it doesn't seem so bad to be out there on the road somewhere. But I know if I were there, I'd miss being back here, even being back here in these especially awful times.

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