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:
   festive streets of Central Los Angeles
Sunday, July 1 2001
John's brother Joe has been making ample use of the front stoop since he arrived. He likes to go out there in the morning and sun himself like some sort of bespectacled lizard. I wish I'd made more use of the stoop in the 14 months I've lived here. At around 10am John took Joe to the airport and he flew back to Philadelphia.
In the late morning I ate a burrito at Tacos Plus and then caught the Big Blue Bus route #10 into the heart of downtown Los Angeles. The weather was hot, dry and sunny down there and the streets were alive with people bustling about buying things in the market. Nearly everyone there was of Mexican ancestry and it was odd being the tallest person on such crowded streets. The only people anywhere near my height were the infrequent black men. I didn't see any fellow crackers until I was near the defiantly-gentrified yuppieness of Bathtubgirl's building.
I hung out with Bathtubgirl, Snow and Zero for a time drinking coffee and talking about such improbabilities as my plan to drive the Punch Buggy Rust to New York. Then I retrieved my clunky little car from the sketchy parking lot where I'd left it on Friday. I'd been pretty lucky; no homeless people had moved in or stripped it for parts.

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