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:
   falafel and Chinese food
Saturday, June 5 2010
Our friend Sarah the Vegan showed up early this afternoon to stay in our house and do dog-sitting duties during a period when Ray (who has been a houseguest in our basement for months) would be away. We didn't want to be leaving our injured-but-healing Eleanor in the care of friends, but our trip to Oregon had been scheduled months ago.
Ray was still around but Gretchen was off at some last-minute social function, so Ray, Sarah, and I decided to have lunch together. They'd wanted to go to the vegan restaurant in Woodstock, but I had errands to run in Kingston, so we went to Gabriel's in Uptown instead. We happened to arrive in the midst of the farmers' market, which for one reason or another was attended by several adults dressed as pirates. One of my errands was to get some more Sriracha (aka Rooster Sauce), so we went to Kimm's, a wacky Uptown store full of cheap kitchen accessories, plastic toys, candy, random Asian imports, and pan-Asian food staples (such as cans of fake duck meat and bags of rice). Kimm, the guy who runs the place, is an older man whose face is permanently stuck in an infectious smile. It doesn't take much to send him into gales of laughter.
I've been to Gabriel's a good half dozen times and never had a good meal there, mostly because nobody in the kitchen seems to know how to prepare beans (and I'm easily tempted by bean dishes). So today I went rogue from my normal interests and ordered a falafel sandwich. Seasoned with numerous squirts from my brand new bottle of Sriracha, it proved surprisingly delicious. By this point, Ray had made note of others in costumes (intentional or otherwise), especially hippies who had been heavily influenced by caricatures of Native American outfits.
This evening Ray was gone so it was just Gretchen, me, and Sarah for dinner. So Sarah drove off to the local China Rose restaurant (the one on Albany Avenue that is a lot more like an American Chinese restaurant than the Victorian-themed incarnation in Rhinecliff).
We ate our food while watching an old Chris Rock classic called Down to Earth about a man who succumbs to a bureaucratic mix-up in Heaven and dies too soon, and is thus given a second chance in another body on Earth. Since this body is white, middle-aged, and rich, it gives Chris Rock all kinds of hooks for his particular race-analyzing brand of humor. It wasn't a great movie, but it was good enough for watching over Chinese take away.

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