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:
   like I am missing out
Saturday, April 13 2013
Gretchen would be gone tomorrow morning, so we decided to move our weekly coffee ritual to today. Gretchen also invited Ray and Nancy and their new puppy Jack over, though only Nancy and Jack showed up. As he had been before, initially Jack was belligerent towards the other dogs (mostly Ramona), growling at them when they got up in his face. But gradually he grew accustomed to them and began tolerating such intrusions. He might have eventually started tolerating Clarence the cat (who made a point of rubbing the top of his head on the side of Jack's face), but Jack never got beyond the growly phase with him.
After twenty minutes or so, Jack had discovered the joys of playing with Ramona. The two chased each other round and round coffee table, occasionally stopping to slap at each other with their paws. It was adorable. I have feeling Jack will look forward to future drives up Dug Hill Road, particularly given that his visit today concluded with nice romp in the nearby forest.

This evening Gretchen did a bunch of poetry-related things, including the attendance of a reading and participation in a panel (where she happened to meet the son of the world's most famous writer of horror novels). Meanwhile back at the house, I did my usual mix of procrastination and web development.
I've been abstaining from drinking alcohol since the April 8th in an effort to break my pattern of using it as a sweetener for so much else in my life (particularly television, but also aimless web activities and even late-night web development). It had been a fairly easy abstinence so far, indicating that I'm less psychologically dependent on booze than I'd feared. But tonight I found it a bit harder; I'm used to filling my alone time with devil-may-care alcohol binges, and not taking advantage of Gretchen's absence made me feel like I was missing out. Back when I was in my 20s and more socially active, I used to feel that same feeling — like I was missing out — when I wasn't out doing something (anything) with friends on a weekend night. I think that's the core feeling of any of my psychological addictions. The key to breaking them is using willpower to make it through the occasions when I feel like I am missing out and only reintroducing the subjects of my addictions on my terms, not on my addiction's.

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