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:
   varicose lifestyle
Monday, January 19 1998

s it Aquarius yet? It's 10:30pm Eastern Standard Time, so I guess the sun is in Aquarius. It's less than four weeks before I turn thirty years old. Strangely, I feel more like a child than I did a year ago. Not a child, I guess, just a ridiculous, underachieving adult. I need more structure for my life. It's become a formless blob with little veins of social life and activity strung through it, not nourishing so much as defacing it.

I don't have the environment I need. I have the ways and means to New Orleans, but I barely have the will to get out of bed. I need a revolution. I need to be a revolutionary. Risk is lacking in my life, and I'm growing soft and dull and weak and poor and ugly.

I like girls, but there are some things that bother me about them:

  • Why do they like boys, or more especially, why do they like the boys they like? Those boys are ridiculous, embarrassing or both. I like Matthew Hart a lot, but the part of him I see girls liking makes me want to throw up. And how come the more of a jerk I am the more I get laid?

  • What is the appeal of a smelly squalling infant? A baby with food on its face does not make me hungry, does not make me sigh and say, "Ach du cute!" Diaper changing and meal eating are inherently incompatible.

  • I am not thinking anything at all, and I mean that seriously. Well, what I mean is that putting me on the spot isn't going to suddenly make me bare my soul or tell you how bored and lonely I feel.

There was a light dusting of snow this morning, but it was as mediocre as my own achievements. Nature needs to get off its ass every bit as much as I do.


here's a new cat hanging around the house, and I call him Sneezy. He's faintly yellow, small & thin and he has balls. Deya let him in for awhile and Nicholas the Cat didn't know what to make of him. They fought a little, but it seemed Sneezy knew it best suited his diplomatic purposes to be pleasant. Matthew Hart (who has always been suspiciously anti-cat) drew the line on this new character and banished him to the outdoors. It was all for the best. The immigration problem has always been a crisis here at Kappa Mutha Fucka. Beyond that, I think Sneezy was marking territory in the house with his urine, and I don't want any of that.

one year ago

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