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:
   a wonderful new addiction
Monday, March 4 2002
This afternoon I went to the refrigerator and helped myself to a beer for lunch and Gretchen (who had been out but had just returned) remarked, "You seem to be drinking more again." Actually, though, she was wrong; I haven't been drinking more. I've been drinking a tiny bit less, but doing it more openly in front of her. Besides, it shouldn't matter one way or the other; she knew coming into this relationship that I'm a guy who likes to drink.
Also in conflict with Gretchen's preferences, I've been letting my hair grow of late. This isn't in pursuit of any particular goal; it's simply in keeping with my hermitlike existence. I don't want to cut my hair until after I've achieved a few unmentioned goals. It's sort of like my lucky hair until then.
Other hair has been less lucky; I've recently developed a habit of plucking those growing in my nostrils. The intense pain was a barrier at first and then, gradually, it became a wonderful new addiction.

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http://asecular.com/blog.php?020304

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