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:
   I can work in Manhattan again
Wednesday, November 14 2001

In an effort to better time-share our brownstone, this evening I set my home computer to run as a PCAnywhere host and then rode the subway into Manhattan. My plan was to try to work in the New York office for the first time in a month, even though I wasn't sure that there would be a usable network there. But I figured that even if I wasn't able to access the Santa Monica VPN, I could PCAnywhere into my home machine and work that way.
Instead, though, I was amazed to discover that my workplace computer had nearly complete access to the Santa Monica network. Suddenly my workplace options had doubled! Ah, it will actually be nice to commute into work occasionally. It will also be a relief not to have cats and dogs crawling in my lap and begging me to let them outside all day long. Also, the chair I sit in at work is far more comfortable than the one I sit in at home.

The clock silently struck eight and I was sick of being in the office, so I hit the streets for a while, executing a big loop through the East Village, since the night was unusually warm for this time of year. After buying some tussin gel caps at a Duane Reade, I walked back to Union Square and caught the Q back to Brooklyn.
Perhaps I'm out of it fashion-wise, but today it finally sank in that fashionable women are now wearing pre-dirtied denim. The "dirt" looks almost authentic because it is an olive brownish-green and concentrated on the knees and in other firm parts of the legs. The only reason I suspect this is not authentic dirt is that the women who wear such denim are all spotlessly clean and have various accoutrements that loudly cry, "Look at me, I am the embodiment of the deliberate search for high-fashion success." Most of the denim I've seen fashionably sullied in this way has been in denim skirts, but today I saw a woman wearing pre-sullied trousers. And though from the waist down she appeared to have spent considerable time on her knees in a garden, she was also wearing an off-white sweater. Not only was it free of the burs and stains of the great outdoors, it didn't bear the slightest evidence of past comestic mishaps.

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