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:
   princess of the laundry mat
Sunday, February 21 1999
Today was yet another filled with petty humilitation at the hands of my computer. Modern computers are so complex that there're far more things that can go wrong than any one person could possible be aware of. The irony of my supposed "time saving device" eating up all of my meager weekend free time was not lost on me. And it didn't help my already-precarious relationship with Kim much either. For a time she sat around reading her depth-psychology books and listening to music, but eventually she got bored with being ignored and headed off to hang out with Cindy the energetic wondergirl.
Noting a lack of alcohol in the house, I walked down to the Appletree to buy a 12 pack of Red Wolf and a half gallon of cheap vodka. On the way I passed the laundry mat as I always do. There's always something happening down there on a weekend night. I saw one shapely girl with very long blond hair and I immediately sensed that she was the place's star attraction. If she's a regular there, you can bet there are some men who know her schedule and synchronize theirs with hers. I felt kind of sorry for her. This is Ocean Beach, after all, and the guys can get creepy, especially at a laundry mat. I couldn't help but start singing a little song about her under my breath.

Princess of the laundry mat
I think about her when my beer goes flat
ZZ Top on WOXO
I'd go out but there's nowhere to go

I've got a plan and my one clean shirt
I'm going to wash away the pain and the dirt
I'm heading down to the laundry mat
I've got my clothes, all I need is my hat.

On my way back home I saw her standing out in front of her domain talking to some guy who obviously wanted to take her home and fuck her brains out. She has nice hair and a nice body, but I still haven't seen her face close enough to know if she's actually a hottie or not. By the way, if this discourse seems just a little sexist or superficial, hey, it's both, and it's exactly how the world works.

Kevin the DBA guy called me from co-worker Al's place and invited me to join them for a little seaside recreation. I didn't really want to go; I was busy and demands on my time are many, but the prospect of watching the ocean crash into Sunset Cliffs was appealing after a day hunched over a recalcitrant computer. Besides, it's always a good idea to refresh friendships with colleagues. So I rode my bicycle down to Al's apartment. It looks exactly the way it did when he moved in several months ago.
Since Al no longer has a car, he had Kevin drive him around today looking for another one. But every car he looked at was either too expensive or in terrible shape, especially this one Volvo being pedalled by a couple of guys fresh from Jamaica. Desperate for transportation, Al also went looking at bicycles. But at the pawn shops, even bicycles were beyond his budget. Time to start robbin' banks (or else going to yard sales). I wonder if there's anyone named Robin Banks?

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