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:
   becoming Michæl Scott
Friday, July 25 2008
At some point today, I mixed up some "liquid bluestone," which, when set, would more resemble limestone than the metamorphosed fine-grained sandstone of which local bluestone is comprised. My liquid bluestone was comprised of Portland cement with plenty of black concrete dye, giving it the deep grey hue of bluestone. After I'd mixed it up, I applied it to the many spaces between the rocks veneering the sides of the woodstove pedestal. Though it has poor adhesive qualities, my experience has shown that Portland cement works well as grout, a use for which forces are entirely compressive. For the first time ever when doing this sort of work, I'd looked ahead into the future long enough to put disposable latex gloves on my hands. Though the gloves sprung a great many tiny leaks as I worked, my skin wasn't noticeably affected by the strong alkali. Normally when I work with Portland cement, I use my bare hands and I can feel the fat beneath my fingertips turning into soap. I'm usually forced to mitigate this by rinsing my hands in vinegar and then using lots of hand lotion. Today, though, my hands needed no special cleaning when I was done. I did notice, however, that the small amount of cement that had worked its way into the glove had attacked the copper on one of the rings on my right pinky, covering that part of my hand with a puke-yellow syrup.
At various points throughout the day, I'd take breaks to watch episodes of The Office on Roku. After watching many episodes, I'm beginning to feel like I might actually be Michæl Scott, the wildly inappropriate, un-self-aware boss. In practice, of course, I'm not that bad. But the things he says and does reflects things that actually go through my head in real life social interactions. I know enough to suppress them, but when I'm by myself in my laboratory, I really do become Michæl Scott. I blabber nonsensical streams of punning syllables, I smirk fiendishly at my own wit, and I act as if the entire world revolves around me. Since watching all these episodes of The Office, I've felt myself becoming more Michæl Scottlike in social situations. On some level it's a parody, but how funny can that be for other people if it's a parody of something only I can possibly be thinking of? Only a genuine Michæl Scott would pursue a comic thread without regard for its comedic value to others.

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