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:
   slimy consistency subtracted
Tuesday, June 30 2015
Gretchen took the dogs on their morning walk today, and so when I went out to gather firewood this morning, I did so on my own. I went to that downed oak a quarter mile south down the Gullies Trail and cut a few pieces from it. But my saw worked poorly; evidently my recent sharpening of the chain hadn't been good enough. Still, I managed to cut enough pieces to comprise a heavy backpack load. I made a mistake in the loading of the wood that caused a large piece to hang low and swing as I walked. This somehow managed to absorb a lot of the energy I was putting into carrying the load, because it made it feel much heavier than the 94 pounds it turned out to be.

I've been searching for authentically creepy horror movies, and this led me to gradually watch the first half of the 1995 remake of Village of the Damned, yet another data point in the emerging consensus among my brain cells that the 1990s are starting to look like a period startlingly remote from the present. Adding to the creepiness of this movie was Christopher Reeve in his last big role before being rendered quadriplegic by an equestrian accident. I see the semi-goofy look coming from the whites of his eyes in his fully-abled form and all I can think of is that same head, cut off forever from its ability to communicate with the rest of his body. At least in this remake, Village of the Damned is not a very good movie, but I watched it more for the 90s nostalgia than anything else.
This evening Gretchen boiled up some pasta and made a pesto that included garlic scapes from our garden (they'd been harvested about two weeks before). I decided to fry up that bolete I found back on the 27th of June along with several smaller boletes I found today. Unfortunately, though, for some reason they disintegrated into a slime that later carmelized in places. I scraped it out off the pan and into some red sauce, and it actually tasted pretty good, though the slimy consistency subtracted somewhat from the experience of eating it.

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