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:
   a firewall against hate
Saturday, December 21 1996 When I got out of bed at 10:30am I was hung over, but I wasn't miserable. I felt like I was handling the situation presented yesterday with due dignity and grace. I was made to feel even better at the Rising Sun Bakery, where Jen Fariello and Peggy were both very kind to me, though neither had any reason to know what had happened last night. For my part, I concealed any pain I was feeling as best I could, and further found myself distracted from it by the aforementioned kindness. Through familiarity or uncommon sensitivity, Peggy, however, always seems to be aware when there is something bad lurking within my psyche, and she was especially kind...demandingly so.

At Cocke Hall, I killed the rest of my awake hours dissecting what had happened yesterday for these musings. In further analyzing my feelings on the matter, I am pleased to discover that none of my usual nascent misogynous feelings were provoked by The Twenty Dollar Crisis. In the model of Jessika contained in my brain, the one I use to predict her behaviour and extrapolate the actions of others similar to her, there may only be a weak emphasis on her being female. Thus when she does something, I do not expect similar things of other girls. Thus when she treats me like shit, it is just her doing it. I am not a victim of womankind. It is possible on the other hand that I have matured beyond an automatic hate for all things related to or within the same category as the source of my problems. Perhaps by now a series of "firewalls" have been erected around the neural models I keep of my friends, protecting them from judgment based on the actions of others.

One of the aspects that was particularly humiliating about the central event in my life yesterday was that I was to be abandoned even though my presence is a rare commodity. I don't think Jessika would have done a similar thing to Steve Weiner. I didn't like the implication that I had become a burden. And if I am now a burden, a social responsibility, a charity case, surely the responsible action at this point is to leave her completely alone. And so...

I didn't try to find Jessika for today's 4pm consolation date. I wouldn't want to make her suffer through an afternoon with boring old me. For my part I think I'll be happier not seeing her septum ring for awhile. I always did think septum rings were ridiculous. Twice as ridiculous as Eddie Vedder. Even if I liked her septum ring, I'd be missing it soon enough regardless: she'll be back in Philadelphia for a whole month in a day or so.

At my house I took a bath and then went to bed at around 7pm, awaking again for work before 1am.

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