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:
   cool new shoes
Sunday, November 7 1999
Down on Newport Avenue, Kim and I went on something of a shopping spree. We were in the Cow CD store, and picked up two greatest hits collections, one for PIL, the other for Journey. Yes, that Journey. Sometimes you just have to give in to the fact that you're a child of the 70s. Nobody can deny that "Wheel in the Sky" was one of the best songs written in 1977. Kim especially likes the song "Don't Stop Believin'" (actually spelled with an apostrophe, as was the style at the time). For Kim the lines

Just a small town girl, livin' in a lonely world
She took the midnight train goin' anywhere
Just a city boy, born and raised in South Detroit
He took the midnight train goin' anywhere

represent the story of our meeting, but with the genders reversed.

After picking up ghetto burritos down at Rodeo, we checked out a thrift store that was going out of business. Everything was dirt cheap, and there was lots of it. Kim picked up a nice denim jacket and a couple slips and I found several pairs of shorts and two pairs of shoes that actually fit me for $5/each. One of these pairs looked sort of like bowling shoes, while the other was pair of combat sandals, if you will: big menacing boots with air holes cut into them. They were made in Mexico and were actually a little loose on me. I have such big feet that I almost always have to buy my footwear new. We weren't the only people in the store checking out the loot, but I was the only man.

Back at our place, Kim and I were rocking out to Journey so loud that our neighbor Lisa awoke from her nap. At first she assumed the music was coming from another courtyard resident, Paul, who is notorious in our compound for his taste in cheesy hard rock. Lisa came over and was, she said, "so surprised." We were giggling and reading the lyric sheet and everything, like the long-lost fans we never were.
Kim tells me that her old weirdo-boyfriend, another Paul, (the one who occasionally turned up in Kim's apartment early in my relationship with her) would, along with his buddy Sebastion, sometimes initiate Journey/Rush marathons in the kitchen at Café Zola in Ann Arbor, to the consternation of everyone but Kim.

Kim tries on a fifty cent slip and some white boots that didn't actually fit her.

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