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Welcome, Eli writes
here.
See also Imagery and his other projects. |
| �葉 | 2 0 0 9 |
Nov 21 |
Chiba is where she’s from. William Gibson’s Neuromancer also took place here. It’s the eastern sleeperside of Tokyo and I currently call it home. Its kanji mean thousand leaves and so, of course, the mille-feuille is the official cake. Japanese make a great deal of its shape and 2 animal logos based on it are in current use. Isn’t the yellow one captivating in its deformity?
| Chimera fetish | 2 0 0 8 |
Sep 26 |
The text below was when I fell in love with China Mieville’s Perdido Street Station. I wasn’t sure for many pages, never one to care much for fantasy. But this, this is what fantasy should be.
Reading the book, as many things else, got interrupted by the exile, but I’ve been possessed downloading ebooks lately and I just found a great HTML version of the book. Let the reading recommence!
They ignored their food and stared at each other for a moment. Lin signed at him: Good morning, lover. Then she began to eat, still looking at him.
It was when she ate that Lin was most alien, and their shared meals were a challenge and an affirmation.As he watched her, Isaac felt the familiar trill of emotion: disgust immediately stamped out, pride at the stamping out, guilty desire.Light glinted in Lin’s compound eyes. Her headlegs quivered. She picked up half a tomato and gripped it with her mandibles. She lowered her hands while her inner mouthparts picked at the food her outer jaw held steady.
Isaac watched the huge iridescent scarab that was his lover’s head devour her breakfast.He watched her swallow, saw her throat bob where the pale insectile underbelly segued smoothly into her human neck … not that she would have accepted that description. Humans have khepri bodies, legs, hands; and the heads of shaved gibbons, she had once told him.
He smiled and dangled his fried pork in front of him, curled his tongue around it, wiped his greasy fingers on the table. He smiled at her. She undulated her headlegs at him and signed, My monster.I am a pervert, thought Isaac, and so is she.
| Why are far things small? | 2 0 0 8 |
May 30 |
Where, but the web, would you find someone like Oliver Steele? This ain’t no metaphor. That name was a link. I’m not talking about Oliver Steele the person, I haven’t met him (though I apparently am 1-degree of separation from him; weird, that). I’m not talking about the sweating, walking, pinchable, space-and-time-and-flesh-bound avatar, I’m talking about his online persona. And either I’ve gotten crazy enough or technology has advanced enough that I’m ready to treat Oliver Steele —the link, his blog, words, diagrams, code, and further media— as a person by its own merits.
And, boy, is he an interesting guy:
| A 1000 years from now... | 2 0 0 8 |
Jan 02 |
Head out to The Sex Singularity: When Machines Surpass Human Hotness for a fascinating scifi glimpse at our impending sexdoll future. Written in the sparse but suggestive Strossian infodump style, the piece is a rambling scrapbook of future news, some of them wonderfully imaginative: (via BoingBoing)
| Randomly ahead clock | 2 0 0 7 |
Dec 15 |
A wonderfully clever contraption by David Seah: The Procrastinators clock. For those who set their clocks ahead to stand on their toes only to become habituated after a while, a randomly ahead clock. Web & desktop versions available.
Ah, clocks were an early obsession of mine (see for instance this color clock), earlier than calendars…
| a name that fits | 2 0 0 7 |
Dec 14 |
Apropos of Elie Wiesel, I’m in the strange process of choosing a name for myself that Americans can pronounce. Most automatically call me “ely” (ee-lie, rhymes with fry) but I’m not a big fan. I think I’m going to go with “elie” (eh-lee, rhymes with jelly), which I like the sound of. Plus, I totally dig girlboy names.
A fun thing, renaming oneself. We should do it more often.| Get gay in a jiffy | 2 0 0 7 |
Dec 10 |
This just in (via KurzweilAI.net), I can hardly believe it myself:
[..a scientific team] has discovered that sexual orientation in fruit flies is controlled by a previously unknown regulator of synapse strength. Armed with this knowledge, the researchers found they were able to use either genetic manipulation or drugs to turn the flies’ homosexual behavior on and off within hours.
”Homosexual courtship might be sort of an ‘overreaction’ to sexual stimuli,”..
| the-language-this-word-belongs-to | 2 0 0 7 |
Dec 08 |
Starting an artificial language has been a recurrent dream of mine. As a subscriber to the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis (that the shape of our language is the shape of our thought), a believer in ending Babel through an auxlang, a pathological formist, and an admirer of the grace, elegance, and pleasure to be found in conlangs such as Esperanto and toki pona, I believe the enterprise worth a lifetime, worth my lifetime.
But of course, given my extremist bent, I want to start an artificial language that subsumes all languages. A language to make languages, like in John Varley’s beautiful Persistence of Vision. An extensible language to gobble up and be enriched by the thoughts and feelings of as many souls as the universe will ever have. A perfectly regular language that can be learned in a week but never mastered. The creation of a self-conscious, language-obsessed culture but learnable by the illiterate. A language so abstract and basic, it can be embodied inside any symbolic system, be it based on sounds, graphics, gestures, raised dots, or farts; be it English, Maori, or Farsi. A language of infinite expressibility, synthetic and analytic, vague and precise, formal and casual, exquisite and coarse. A language that will outlast the stars.
The key, I think, lies in internal flexibility. The ideal is to do for language what the Hindu-Arabic numeral system did for numbers. Not only will there be no arbitrary, capricious limits to word creation, it will be a language of pure word creation, able to convey books in a word, lifetimes in a sentence. It will be a language complete in itself yet always growing.
After years of frenzying about it late at night, the language finally got its first name, despite it not yet having a transliteration, let alone any words. It’s self-referentially called, among infinite names, the-language-this-word-belongs-to.
| Que puta..? | 2 0 0 7 |
Dec 06 |
| Very | 2 0 0 7 |
Dec 06 |
Our trusted old friend very, I just found out, comes straight from the Latin VERus, truth! It’s the same root that gives us VERitable, VERacity, VERism, VERdict, (“truth-speaking”), or the Spanish VERdad. Every single very you’ve gushed has been a truly in disguise. When you say, say, “Damn Ivonne, you’re very hot!”, what you’re really saying across millennia to Yvonne is that she’s truly hot. Which she is. Now aren’t you glad you read this blog religiously?