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

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(nobody does!)

Like my brownhouse:
   throat and tongue attachments
Saturday, December 12 2009

The day was cold but sunny, and proved ideal for bacon-lettuce-pickle-mayonaisse sandwiches (technically "snerches") devoured in front of a television. (I used vegan ingredients for all the normally non-vegan elements in that list, and didn't feel like I was doing without). Gretchen also made a sandwich and it was no snerch. We ended up watching the movie Up, the Pixar-Disney animation about the old man and the young boy who fly to South America in a house lifted by helium balloons (we'd borrowed one of the pre-release "for your consideration" copies sent out to those who cast votes for the Oscars). I normally have my doubts about CGI films, but Up was mostly lovely, particularly the touching montage that hurried through the life of the old man and his woman, who dies just before the non-montage scenes began. The little kid who shows up soon thereafter is mostly annoying, in that way that people who choose not to have kids find annoying about the children of their child-having friends. But later still in the film there is a dog named Doug who has the ability to talk with the assistance of a babel-fish-style collar, and the things he says are exactly what you'd imagine a dog would say if only he could talk. (I perform the functions of such a collar routinely around the house, with the same earnestly-sad, slightly put-upon tone, but with more falsetto.)

At some point I set out with my newly-fixed woodcart to collect the firewood I'd cut at the Chamomile crossing. Pulling the heavy load through the crunchy snow was hard work, and I laid down in the snow several times just to catch my breath and stare up at the trees. There's an unexpected pleasantness to such breaks. I remember as a kid when I used to help my father bring home firewood, I used to take little breaks by stretching out on my back in the winter sun.

Ray and Nancy arrived this evening as part of another stab at real estate shopping. Gretchen and I were going to a party at the photogenic vegan Buddhists' house (now on Zena Road), though for some reason Ray and Nancy opted to stay behind by the fire, where Ray likes to idle away his time punching buttons on his PSP.
I can be something of a sour puss at the photogenic vegan Buddhists' annual Christmas party, but for some reason tonight I was very social, talking so much that my throat and tongue attachments started to ache.

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