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:
   tending a record player
Friday, August 21 2009
This evening Gretchen and I went to a dinner party hosted by the woman beind CrαzySexyCαncer at the place she shares with her husband Brian and their dog Lola. It was just a dinner party; nothing special was being celebrated. Gretchen made a dish of "meatballs" with mustard sauce as well as a tray of cupcakes. All our vegan friends turned up, as well as some people I didn't know too well, not all of whom were vegans or assumed that I was. How do I know this? One nice gentleman matter-of-factly asked what sorts of things I did for fun upstate, and then volunteered, by way of an example he might be tempted to pursue, "Fishing?" These days when people ask what I like to do in the big outdoors, I don't usually mention fossil collecting, bluestone mining, or the concentration of unusual pebbles. I usually say "mushroom collecting," because this subject doesn't require much explanation other than "I'm mostly looking for edible species" and "it doesn't require all that much knowledge to avoid poisoning yourself."
It was a good party and I had a good time, despite the fact that several times I felt as though people (strangers I'd met for the first time) were regarding me as something of a dolt. Sometimes I enjoy playing the fool for complete strangers just so I can surprise them later should I come up with a witty remark.
Meanwhile the tunes were being provided by an actual turntable playing vintage vinyl albums, a British Invasion treasure trove Brian had recently inherited. The problem with using records as a form of party entertainment is that a record player must be tended like a steam locomotive, though record player tending is something of a lost art in the age of multi-gigabyte MP3 players. Tonight we kept hearing the same side of Let it Be play over and over again until I finally put on an album by the Kinks, and that was all that played for the rest of the party.

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