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:
   sick in sunny Southern California
Sunday, January 24 1999
The flu were cruel to me; it kept me in bed all day, wracking my body with aches and painful energy-sapping coughs. My Dextromethorphan pills ran out in the afternoon and I was forced to go out and get more, so I took Sophie for a brief walk. The streets were refreshing, windy and warm. Everyone looked beautiful.
Both Sophie and Kim have been very good to me, providing me comfort, food and snuggles during the past two days of illness. Last night when Ludimilla and a bunch of drunken Pacific Shores boys dropped by, Sophie stood sentry outside my door.
Today, the only genuine pleasure in life is masturbation; it's the only entertainment for which I have the necessary energy. There's no way I could possibly muster the strength to actually have sex with another person.
And the only food that tastes good to me is flavoured liquid yogurt from the hippie store.
Since it's a slow news day, how about some photographs?

Me, sans clothes, in the bed I share with Kim. Kim took this picture back in December.

The two editor boys at their workstations in my place of employment. On the left is Al (who, like me, lives in Ocean Beach) and on the right is John, who lives near the Victoria Rose in Downtown San Diego.

Co-worker Eric the 20 year old web developer, driving me and Dave to lunch in his old Volvo station wagon.

The rooster I drew in permanent marker on the dry erase board in the main company meeting room, causing a fair amount of controversy.

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