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:
   not interleaving the things I eat
Thursday, September 1 2022

location: rural Hurley Township, Ulster County, NY

After a fairly listless workday, I loaded up the bluestone triangles, a small amount of food, and both dogs into the Chevy Bolt and drove up to the cabin without Gretchen, who would be getting a long four-day Labor Day weekend of alone time. Along the way, I stopped at Price Chopper for important food staples (bread, tofu, pasta, and guacamole, among other things). I then searched the local area for liquor stores, since I don't yet have a sense of the most convenient ones along my route to the cabin. I found one just right of the corner where Comrie Avenue crosses Townsend Avenue called Spirit of the Adirondacks. I was feeling prosperous, so not only did I get a $15 half gallon of Barton gin, I also got a $40 bottle of some sort of single-malt scotch. The guy at the cash registered said something nice about my "zippy" little car, so I told him that it was all-electric that "famously bursts into flames," but that I'd gotten it for $14 thousand and that the battery, the only part that wears out, had been replaced and now there was no danger of it catching on fire.
As I always do when driving to the cabin with just the dogs, I stopped at the Burger King at the southeast corner of Gloversville for an Impossible Whopper (without mayonnaise to keep it more-or-less vegan) and two large orders of fries. From there, I drove through Gloversville, still not quite sure of my way and depending on the tower of an abandoned church to orient myself. (The downtown has the distorted street grid of a medieval city.) It being just after sunset, there were a lot of cats out and about, some of whom were lying with entitled playfulness in the street, unconcerned as I drove slowly around them.
It's always a joy to open up the cabin, open up my laptop, and begin devouring my french fries. The dogs seem to recognize this pattern and wait patiently from a distance until, to their delight, I bring them each a handful of fries. Then I eat my burger as separate course. I'm not the kind of who interleaves the eating of one thing with another, though after I've had a certain amount of fries, the eating of a burger is a nice change of pace. (The dogs never get to partake in the burger course, though I had gotten them some non-vegan chewy treats at the Price Chopper, so I gave them each one of those.)
I also now had gin and top-shelf scotch, so had myself a few drinks, though not enough to result in a hangover.

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