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").



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decay & ruin
Biosphere II
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dead malls
Detroit
Irving housing

got that wrong
Paleofuture.com

appropriate tech
Arduino μcontrollers
Backwoods Home
Fractal antenna

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Like my brownhouse:
   those clunky noises
Monday, September 29 1997
    T

    he sky was clear and blue all day, and the air was gentle and warm. On the Grounds of UVA lay countless collegiate sun bathers saving up tan for the Winter. I chatted some with members of the Curious Digit when I ran across them under a tree on the Lawn. There was much to discuss, particularly Rory.

    Matthew Hart was sitting on the front porch sipping a beer and playing his new Sebadoh album (Harmacy) when I got home from the Corner. There wasn't much to talk about as I swatted at evil grey and white Tiger Mosquitos.

    When Angela arrived, Matthew and her went off on little errands, including to the coin laundry place and on private ones up to Matthew's room. Deya and I are puzzled about the clunking noises we hear when they're up there together. Does Angela never take off those big shoes of hers?

    I began my prework nap at 7:00 pm. I wanted to be well rested for my Comet shift.


    Get a sense of what I was like exactly eight years ago today.


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