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:
   second aborted workday
Tuesday, January 26 1999
I felt considerably worse today than I had the day before, but because critical projects still depend directly on me, and because one of my important robots needed to be repaired, I felt it was my duty to go to work today. I had Kim drop me off at around 9:30am, and I immediately regretted my gallantry. I worked for about a half hour and then my vision began to swim. I knew very bad things would happen if I remained in front of my visibly throbbing 19 inch monitor, so removed myself to a couch in the middle of the office and pretended to read from a SQL instructional text while my colleagues drifted about me like foggy paper cutouts. I wondered what they thought of me? Had I mysteriously turned into a shirker?
As soon as my essential work was done, I phoned Kim and told her to come pick me up ASAP. Hours passed, and eventually she arrived. She'd been over at the Brazilian girls' place getting her nails done.
By now Kim could feel the flu creeping into her own body.
The howling wind outside, the cold rain pounding into the windows, the misery of lying in sweat-drenched sheets, the insecurity of rapidly-dwindling supplies of juice and medication. Now we had all these experiences to share.

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