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:
   relief from the dog day funk
Monday, July 31 2006

setting: Hogwaller Neighborhood, Charlottesville, Virginia

I drank water a few times this morning and then, once Jessika and Aaron were up, switched to coffee. I gradually came to the conclusion that what had made me nearly pass out last night was dehydration, what happens when a 38 year old man spends eight hours drinking nothing but beer.
My agenda for today was a simple one: driving all the way back to Hurley, NY. It was brutally hot day, even worse than yesterday, and my car has a dysfunctional air conditioner. I took the southern route, heading north on US 29 along the east side of the Blue Ridge to Washington, DC. Near Silver Spring the beltway slowed to a miserable crawl and, with all the stagnant pollution and no winds to keep me cool, I wondered a few times if I should just park on the shoulder and go for a walk.
East of Baltimore, though, I passed through several thunderstorms that provided welcome relief from the dog day funk. As always, I was terrified of the lightning and ran quickly indoors when I stopped at a rest stop to give birth to a legless, armless, sightless stillborn hangover child. That was the only time I urinated on the entire drive, indicating that I was either still recovering from a hydration deficit or that I was sweating away all the moisture I would have otherwise had to piss.

Back home, Gretchen's parents were visiting and Gretchen had just cooked one of her delicious pizzas. It was good to be home.

Today, by the way, marks the tenth anniversary of the beginning of my habit of daily writing on the web.

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