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:
   sneaking out of energy
Friday, February 26 1999
This thing I'm building at work is, if I may be so bold, incredible. It has a potential to revolutionize the site, to give its content attributes completely renewed vigour. Already its antecedents are producing utterly unanticipated positive results. What I'm building is a meta-version of these antecedents, with the power to manufacture flexible descendents at the whim of even the most technologically inept marketing hack. Interestingly, this is all an outgrowth of my guerilla work, projects that met the approval of none of my overlords, though I pursued them anyway, with discretion. Suddenly though, my boss (the Director of Web Development) seems to get it. I have carte blanche. No one asks me how I spend my day. They know I'm building great things.
Along with a number of my intrepid colleagues, I snuck out of "Energy" tonight at 5:30pm. The Director of Web Development chased after me and Justin (a skatedude who works in marketing) telling us we had to stay for this ostensibly voluntary ritual, but our inertia carried us away anyway. It was like an absurd scene cut from Office Space. As we headed down the back stairwell, Justin made an extremely valid point: if it was any other job (such as burger flipping at Carl's Jr.), "Energy" might be necessary. But come 5:30 on a Friday where we work, we deserve to head home and not sit around in a circle having a touchy-feely feel-good ritual.
Sadly though, when I get home on Friday nights these days, whether I participate in "Energy" or not, I never have any strength to go out and have fun. I end up drinking vodkatea pretty much by myself, fighting with the girlfriend, and collapsing into bed. Actually, tonight we didn't even fight. She went to see her astrologer and came back with a hefty stack of printed data.

In other news, I finally signed up with a genuine ISP so I never again have to suffer the indignity of using Kim's AOL account to get on "the internet." AOL hasn't been working on my computer anyway; some legacy of a botched Visual Interdev installation has been causing it to bomb the moment it attempted to log me onto the infuriatingly patronizing AOL network.

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