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:
   compass directions
Tuesday, July 15 2003
Today I walked with Gretchen and Sally a little beyond the end of the Stick Trail to the edge of the Ashokan Plateau. If one comes here in winter, one can see the dramatic Mohunk skyline, a view that's impossible from anywhere near our house. I thought maybe we could traverse the mile or so between this region and the farm belonging to our uphill neighbors, but the land is so flat and featureless that I lost track of my compass direction in the course of only several hundred feet and found myself back on an unfinished section of the Stick Trail. At first I thought it was some other hitherto-undiscovered trail, but then I saw the sticks. It was a real mind-fuck. Gretchen was delighted to see me get lost in the woods for a change, and she got all gangsta-ho on my ass, using her Stankwood voice to say, "I want you to recognize!" Evidently she'd known we were doubling back on the Stick Trail before I had. The lesson from all of this was as follows: the sticks on either side of the Stick Trail are not just the results of a manic, obsessive-compulsive creative urge - they're also important landmarks.

I was in Woodstock this afternoon making a housecall to fix somebody's WiFi trouble. It was clearly a case of too many old-school plaster walls between hither and yon (those being technical terms). WiFi is great for some things, but when it comes down to it, there's nothing like the reliability of wired connections. I have a feeling that a good fraction of my future business will be comprised of retrofitting WiFi networks with ethernet.

For linking purposes this article's URL is:

previous | next