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").

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decay & ruin
Biosphere II
Chernobyl
dead malls
Detroit
Irving housing

got that wrong
Paleofuture.com

appropriate tech
Arduino μcontrollers
Backwoods Home
Fractal antenna

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Like my brownhouse:
   dreary business of dealing with it as a formal pathology
Wednesday, September 21 2016

Neville continues to improve, going on ever-greater adventures in the forest. This morning he and Ramona lingered behind in the forest well after Gretchen had returned from walking them. As we drank decaf out on the lawn chairs, I tracked Neville's position using the Whistle Tracker webapp on my Chromebook. The tracker has made clear that when the dogs spend a long time in the forest, it's usually at only one or two chipmunk mines, where they can linger for an hour or more. But then, when Ramona decided to come home, she doesn't bother waiting for Neville. This morning, for example, she returned home when Neville was still at least a half mile away on the Stick Trail.

Today in the remote workplace, I completed the complex task of adding multiple-language support to this sprawling contact relationship manager I inherited. It hadn't been easy, and I was proud of the results. Sometimes I like to just marvel at things I make for a little while after I make them. This was one of those things.

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