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

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Arduino μcontrollers
Backwoods Home
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(nobody does!)

Like my brownhouse:
   cute little house
Saturday, December 11 1999
At the crack of dawn Kim came back from an emergency Sophie walk to wake me up with news that there was a cute little house for rent almost directly across the street here in Ocean Beach. Its tenant, a Londoner, was heading back to England and breaking his lease. He was holding a moving sale, and that's how Kim found out about the house's availability (it turned out that his landlord didn't even know yet).
The house is small as a building, taking up a relatively small fraction of a standard-size lot and costing less per month than our current two-bedroom apartment. But it's a big one-bedroom house. From the street it looks like a humble shack, a glorified mobile home, but inside it has a definite rambling charm.
Scott from down the street happened by during the middle of this fuss and he drove us around in his car as we went to pick up the necessary forms to apply for the place. Kim wanted me to leave her off the application, fearing her dog and bad credit would jinx us. But then she got to thinking and decided I should mention her as a proposed resident. She said she feared a rift would begin in our partnership if we started with a white lie of relationship-denial on such an auspicious document.
A hungover neighbor Lisa came over as I was filling out the application and she accompanied Kim and I when we subsequently did breakfast down at Rancho's, the healthy Mexican food place south of Newport Avenue. Today we actually ate inside in the dining room and I realized that no matter where anyone sat inside or outside the restaurant, it was like sitting among the trees in a dense forest.
Thankfully the menu wasn't restricted to breakfast items; while Lisa was eating and teasing me about a plate full of eggs I was doing the guacamole and shrimp thing. The coffee, as usual for a Mexican restaurant, had cinnamon in it.
An enormously fat woman came in with an older man and sat at the table immediately beside us. For such an enormous woman, she had a remarkably pretty face. Unfortunately, she reeked of urine as well.

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