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

welcome to the collapse
Clusterfuck Nation
Peak Oil

got that wrong

appropriate tech
Arduino μcontrollers
Backwoods Home
Fractal antenna

fun social media stuff

(nobody does!)

Like my brownhouse:
   wine under the table
Sunday, January 26 2014
In this brutally cold weather, the two hydronic radiators in the laboratory are insufficient to warm that space to a comfortable climate in a reasonable amount of time. So today I augmented the oil-fired system with an electric radiator (which itself contains oil, though this serves only as a thermal mass). After Sunday coffee, Gretchen left to volunteer at the theatre in Rosendale and I struggled with that fourth tiny painting, progress on which was not going well. Paintings either have or they don't, and it's hard for one conceived with a basic flaw (call it an original sin) to be fixed. All of these little paintings were based on the sculpture I made, and it seems I'd tapped out that well of inspiration before I'd finished even one painting. [REDACTED]
Later this evening, I met Gretchen at Ray and Nancy's place and the four of us went out to dinner at the new Indian place [REDACTED] in Kingston. That place doesn't have a liquor license, so Ray asked if it was okay if he went and got a bottle of wine. The maître d' did us one better, producing a cheap 1.5 litre bottle of cheap Pinot Grigio which he sold us "under the table" for $19. (That was more than enough even for lushes like Nancy and me.) This was the first time I'd eaten non-buffet food at this restaurant and it was great, perhaps even a little better than the Indian restaurant Uptown. (Gretchen expressed a little guilt about our newly-polyamorous status with regard to that other local Indian restaurant.) [REDACTED]

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