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:
   along their route
Sunday, July 31 2005
Today I never even remembered that it was the ninth anniversary of the beginning of my daily web output, an activity that has since been dubbed "blogging." For a voluntary act carried on so long, it's a strange how little I actually enjoy it. Still, some of my most satisfying moments come to me when I'm trying to think of something to write. That is all that really remains. For the most part I'm a has-been with a lifestyle that no longer has the ability to intrigue and inspire. Back in the day I'd managed to enter a form of low-level web celebrity, when hundreds of people from a much smaller internet read my site regularly and I'd receive regular mentions in other media. Now my audience has halved twice and I'm almost never mentioned by other websites, let alone print media. If fame was all that motivated me, I'd quit. But I still feel like I have things to observe and relate, and I still have dozens of regular readers who make interesting comments to the things I write.

Today Gretchen and I went to the 65th birthday of a friend who is also an occasional computer client. He has a nice place at the end of the a dead end road on the north side of Ohayo Mountain, with a great view of the mountains north of Woodstock. He is also regularly visited by a family of bears, none of which turned up at his party. Gretchen and I did see a family of turkeys crossing Yerry Road less than a mile from the party. The eight or ten babies were about the size of chickens and looked like miniature adult turkeys.
Most of the people at the party were twenty to forty years older than us, though there was one couple about our age, the woman of which struck up a conversation with Gretchen after recognizing her from the Catskill Animal Sanctuary. Soon our two couples were standing around talking about everything from September Eleventh to rural broadband options. Our new friends live not far from the south end of Hurley Mountain Road, so we didn't have much difficulty convincing them to follow us home, since our house lay along their shortest possible homeward route.
At our house we gave our new friends the complete tour and did what we could to sell them on the glories of living upstate full time. As it stands now they own the place in Marbletown and have two different places in Manhattan, since (in this hyperinflated market) it's cheaper to retain their separate apartments than to move into another Manhattan place of any size.

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