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:
   floaty thing on the Esopus
Monday, June 9 2008
It was another blisteringly hot day, and I'd reprogrammed by Arduino-based solar sufficiency circuitry so that it would run hot water through the basement slab instead of the hot water tank if the tank reached its maximum temperature. At some point today, this new section of the protocol went into effect. I'm curious what will happen as I continue using the basement slab as a heat dump. Will the basement get too hot? Or will enough heat enter the rock and soil packed beneath the slab to provide warmth later in the heating season?
A little past noon today, Sarah the Korean (who is not Korean) arrived for what would be a brief several-hour visit. Gretchen had cooked up a reprise of last night's delicious meal, this time with pasta instead of risotto, and after we'd devoured that we headed with the dogs to the Secret Spot on the Esopus.
We weren't the only people with this idea; when we arrived Bonnie (the person who owns the land) was there with a friend. Later some local kids showed up. And then came Penny and David, who'd just been at another swimming hole near Accord. Penny had brought a blow-up floaty thing, which turned out to be a perfect Secret Spot accessory.
Sally and Eleanor spent most of their time on the bluff above the Esopus, digging for chipmunks (Sally) and rolling in disgusting things (Eleanor). Sally had quickly lost the masking tape I'd wrapped around her right hand to hold her dislocated finger in place, but, a week out from her injury, it seemed to be staying in place without the tape.
Back at the house, Sarah, Gretchen and I piled into a car to pick up Doug, the guy who would be house sitting while we're gone to Bonnaroo. Unbeknownst to us, he'd arrived at the Trailways Station in Kingston at 4pm and had proceeded to walk from there to the Hurley Mountain Inn, some three miles away. By the time Gretchen had reached him by cell phone, he'd already drunk a beer.
We picked Doug up and proceeded into town on a couple errands: to get cash from the bank and roadtrip-suitable books on CD from the Kingston library.

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