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:
   Theresa trashed on two tonics
Thursday, January 22 1998

here's a list of assorted facts about me in development, though I tossed in a few lies just to keep you guessing.


hira the Dog now spends most of her life attached to a cable in the back yard, one of those pulley dog run things. It runs diagonally to maximize her freedom. Everything within her reach she destroys. She's torn sleeping bags and cushions out of the garage and off the clothes line and then worried the innards out of them. The white cottony stuffing is now mixed in among the grass throughout the yard. That's kind of bad, but there's a limit to how much damage she can do to a sleeping bag that no one seems to care about anyway. More troubling is when her cable gets caught on my Dodge Dart. She's such a complete idiot about the mechanism of getting caught that her solution is to tug and prance at the end of her leash. (Dogs with more experience usually are able to figure out how to untangle themselves.) Shira has now managed to rip one of the side lights off my car with her antics. So today, before the wires holding the light to the car were themselves torn away, I glued the light back in place with the ever-useful Liquid Nails. The whole time, of course, Shira was barking at me and dancing around like an idiot. Since she was the cause of all this otherwise unnecessary work, I was infuriated at her and kept shouting for her to shut the fuck up. Animals (and animal-like people) breaking things for idiotic reasons was the cause of stress later in the day as well.


  walked to the Downtown Mall this afternoon to pick up my bike, which I'd left at the Downtown Artspace a week ago. I'd left it there because of miserable weather, but today as I walked down the railroad tracks, sleet began to fall. It seemed like I was going to have to ride through shitty conditions no matter what. This time of year is the height of Winter, so I guess I should expect things like this to happen.

As I walked, a Pegasus helicopter delivered a critically injured patient to the University Hospital. Ironically, the sound of the 'copter was so loud I almost missed the sound of a freight train coming up behind me on the pair of rails between which I was walking. One person's being saved could well have meant my death had I not chanced to turn around and look back down the line.

I bought some coffee on the way to and some whiskey on the way from the Artspace. I didn't linger any place for fear that conditions would worsen.


n the evening, Monster Boy came by with Theresa. Both were sober, so Theresa was being pleasant. But for some reason Matthew Hart agreed to let her have some gin. I knew she was getting frisky when she grabbed my hair and gave an impulsive yank. Peggy, Zach and the Baboose had come by, and I cringed whenever I saw Theresa near the baby. She's almost as slashingly unsubtle near a baby as she is with Shira the dog. Aside from being a gothica estupida, what the hell is wrong with her?

Theresa kept following the bulk of the others around as they tried to avoid her. While Matthew was in his room at one point, he alleges that she flicked off the light and tried to put the moves on him. Unsatisfied there, she came to my room, asking me to let her send an email to the boy Jesse (at VCU in Richmond). I was in a generous mood, so I let her. But she continued to spiral ever downward. I think the second Gin & Tonic is what her in. When she snatched a feathered Mardi Gras mask off Monster Boy's face, the elastic band was destroyed, rendering the mask useless. It was a small destruction, but a destruction nonetheless, a completely needless one, used in this case to make a flirtatious point. If there's anything I hate, it's destroying property -my property- in a melodramatic flourish of rhetoric. I mocked her for being stupid, and I pointed out that this wasn't her first pointless act of destruction. She seemed momentarily ashamed, but then when she left, she slammed the door. I hate it when people slam the door, it's just more needlessly destructive melodrama. I suddenly experienced an overwhelming urge to murder her.

Later, after she'd been similarly stupid, destructive and obnoxious to the people and objects downstairs, she left the house in a huff, slamming the downstairs door as well and taking Monster Boy with her. I flew down the stairs and hollered after her, "Get the hell out of here you fucking bitch!" It wasn't the most original thing to say, but I was irate, and that got it out of my system. I overheard Matthew behind me saying, "Oh no, Gus is being a baby now." (Surely an example of the pot calling the kettle black if ever I've heard it.)

But I calmed down quickly, launching into a continuous series of daring tricks in the wheel chair. At this point I noticed that Matthew's Chilean friend Shaneenah (sp?-- she's a girl) had arrived. Almost two years ago, Matthew and I visited her when she was a student at James Madison University. She was much more of a hippie back then. I see her hair is short these days.

We were drinking the champagne donated by Katherine, the girl across the street. The drinkers even included Peggy, who is normally careful with her alcohol consumption (since she is breast feeding). I could tell Peggy was getting drunk, because her usual shy reserve had thawed considerably.

We ordered two large pizzas, and one of these even had meat on it. They were from Dominos, and we "scarfed" them down in record time. Then Matthew experimented with eating sardines for what he acted like was the first time in his life.

Angela came home and, never content to sit still, Matthew led everyone but Deya and me out to see a movie.


s soon as the noisy crowd was out the door and quiet had settled upon our house, Deya told me how much she hates going anywhere with Matthew and Angela. As you recall, she'd gone bowling with them last night. Deya is disturbed by how they constantly fight about trivial little nothing issues of pride, and by how Matthew, often whining like a deliciously slappable infant, continually demeans his supposed girlfriend. I've heard, by the way, that Matthew was awful to Angela the whole time we were in Philadelphia recently. He treats her like some kind of idiotic rag doll.

one year ago

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