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:
   reason, in some small way
Saturday, June 9 2007
Nobody over the age of twenty one enjoys growing old, and if someone that age or older (including Gretchen) claims he or she does then on some level he or she is probably fooling her or him self. (God how I love the absence of neuter pronouns in my language!) That said, I'll always have one reason to feel, in some small way, young. I was, you see, born after the release of Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, into (if we're to believe the hype) a world completely altered by it. Of course, it's also true that I have always had reason to feel, in some small way, old. I was, you see, born before oil production in the United States peaked. And all of us (except, perhaps, those still too young to read) are, in some small way, old, because we were born before world oil production peaked. And the point at which that happened/will happen marks the inflection point in many graphs quantifying the essential parameters of what it means to be a modern first-world human being.

Gretchen spent the day saving the world teaching folks how to make vegan food at Catskill Animal Sanctuary's annual shindig. Later she came home with bags of surplus open-face fake turkey & vegan mayonnaise sandwiches. As the husband of the household, it was my job to rub her feet, which were sore after having been stood upon all day.

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