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

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Like my brownhouse:
   mysterious man in the men's room
Tuesday, May 14 2019
Last night's watching of that harrowing episode of Game of Thrones unsettled my dreams. I had a long and complicated dream that took place at a version of my childhood home. But the house was much bigger and one of several similar houses in a suburb, surrounded by many smaller houses. My childhood home was a bit more dilapidated than the similar houses; I specifically remember an ornamental row boat on the facade that had partially rotted away, leaving a void in the surrounding stucco. Gretchen was with me in the dream, and she was encouraging me to venture into seldom-explored places in the basement. Unlike the basement of my actual childhood home, this dream house was full of little-explored basement rooms, some accessible only through tiny passages that were difficult to squeeze through. As with my childhood home, the basement was extremely cluttered, sometimes with things I would've loved to have as a child (for example, there was a trophy case containing, among other things, a telescope on a tripod). There were also little windowless rooms that could've easily been made into alternative bedrooms, especially with the simple addition of a light bulb and a space heater. Why hadn't I used these rooms when I was an actual child? Gretchen convinced me to take a few things before we left, which I did reluctantly. And then the dream ended. This dream fits within a series of dreams I've had that has my mother (sometimes with my late father) living in or moving to a new or extremely renovated house, sometimes one equipped with a fabulous basement (one that is either deep, or, as with this dream, wide and elaborate). [REDACTED]
On several occasions today, I wanted to go numero dos in the men's room. But every time I had this desire, there was some guy already in the stall, and guy's shoes were always the same. Who could it have been, camped out in that toilet stall all day? And what was he doing? In any case, on one occasion I was finally driven to use another men's room in the same complex whose location I'd only recently determined. That bathroom is a bit more rustic and has a much bigger gap under the wall of the stall.

Gretchen's initial plans for this week had been to drive down to Manhattan to see a musical with her friend Kia (who gets free tickets to Broadway shows because she is a voter in the allocation of Tony Awards) and then continue down to Washington, DC, for another book tour reading in that area. But the Washington venue had canceled on her for lack of RSVPs, and now all Gretchen would be doing was seeing that musical with Kia and coming back home. With Gretchen gone, I did a little drinking and then took an ambien at around 8:00pm, and so (obviously) the night ended soon thereafter. The day had been unusually cold and (as has been the case of late) rainy, so I'd had to burn yet more firewood.

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