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

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Arduino μcontrollers
Backwoods Home
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(nobody does!)

Like my brownhouse:
   new rules at the Hurley Dump
Monday, January 30 2023
Somehow I'd drunk a bit too much gin last night, which gave me something of a gut-only hangover. It wasn't that bad, but it the discomfort stuck with me all day until around the time I took a bath at the end of the workday.
Meanwhile, Gretchen worked most of a day at the bookstore in Woodstock and then drove to the Rhinecliff train station and took a train into Manhattan, where she met with with her long-time friend Mary P. from Seattle and then and spent the night and Blonde Marissa's place. Gretchen had tried to take a bunch of crap to the Hurley dump on the way to work (including the oft-pissed-into foam mattress cover for our bed). But the Hurley dump had just changed their days of operation for the first time in well over a decade, and now they're closed on Monday. (They also no longer accept cash for dumping fees, though they do accept checks.)

I hadn't had an evening of alone time in months (the last time I'd had it was when we were still going to the cabin). So I relished my time, completely unencumbered by a meal or any television that Gretchen might want to watch with me. I did, however, watch some teevee that she'd recommended, a British show called Extraordinary, which imagines a world where nearly everyone older than eighteen has some random (and they can be extremely esoteric) superpower. It's a cute show, though I don't think I like it as much as Gretchen does.

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