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:
   relentless rain at the cabin
Saturday, September 10 2022

location: 800 feet west of Woodworth Lake, Fulton County, NY

I got up early this morning and went out down the driveway with the handtruck to retrieve some more chonky pieces of granite from various places where bulldozers had churned up loose pieces with flat sides that could be incorporated into the stone patio I'd thought I'd finished last weekend. Since then, I've decided to expand it and make it more circular (and less ovoid) in shape. With that in mind, I'd brought some large pieces of bluestone in the Bolt. But when tiling a plane, it's always best to have a large library of pieces to work from, thus my fetching chunks of granite. I also appreciated that the granite would generally be thicker than the bluestone, allowing me to set pieces of it more deeply in the soil to better anchor the thinner pieces of bluestone adjacent to it.
I ended up working on the expansion of the patio for much of the day, though not before I'd drunk a french press of coffee and caught up on the news. I was delighted that most of the obnoxious news about the death of Queen Elizabeth II had been chased from the headlines by an astounding offensive launched by the Ukrainian military to recapture territory. The Russian occupiers have wilted so swiftly it makes one wonder if there is any country they can successfully occupy. Evidently the "special" in "Special Military Operation" (which Vladimir Putin insists his invasion be called) means the same as the "special" label Americans apply to their intellectually challenged children.
At some point Gretchen was about to walk down to the lake, so I suggested she try heading straight east from the cabin through the trackless wilderness to see if she could find the backwards-facing cliffs I'd discovered last weekend. I told her that if she got lost she should just go downhill, where inevitably she'd reach the lake. So off she went, and the dogs, intrigued by the unusual path she was taking, didn't require much convincing to tag along. Later when I went down to the lake, I went the same way and came upon the backwards-facing cliffs. But when I got down to the lake, Gretchen said her path had taken her straight to Ibrahim's A-frame and she'd missed the cliffs entirely. She'd gone south along the contour, not east.
It was warm down at the lake, so climbed onto the innertube and floated around while drinking a beer, as I like to do. This always takes a fairly long time. [REDACTED]
Next I did a little digging on the trail improvement project just to work up a sweat and then, once I had one, I put on my flippers (a recent eBay purchase) and snorkle and briefly snorkled around the dock as if it were a Galapago. But the visibility was so poor (partially because of the muck stirred up by walking in the shallows with my flippers) that I didn't last more than about a minute.

This evening back at the cabin, I suddenly felt overwhelmingly sleepy, so I took a nice long nap. It was dark when I awoke, and Gretchen had made ravioli with marinaded mushrooms. I ate that, drank some cheap scotch on the rocks, and went to bed a second time at about 10:30pm.

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