PAREIDOLIA
Thursday, February 12, 2004
HYPNEROTOMACHIA POLIPHILI
Published in 1499 by an unidentifiable author, partly a fictional romance, partly a scholarly treatise, and partly a political manifesto, featuring a barely-pronounceable title and indecipherable texts, the Hypnerotomachia Poliphili is perhaps the most fascinating and enigmatic books ever written.
It is an anachronism. Modelled on the bucolic romanzo d’amore, a topoi of pastoral and idyllic romances that peaked in popularity almost a century earlier with the works of Giovanni Boccaccio, its plot, setting, and characters all, almost banally, conform to the cliches of the highly-styalized genre.
The title roughly translates as "The Struggle For Love In A Dream", which neatly sums up the story: the amorous hero Poliphilo is shunned by his lover and spends a sleepless night retting before falling to exhaustion the next morning, initiating the dream narrative. After a series of mythical encounters, travels, and challenges, he is united with his dream-lover, who dissappears just as he takes her into his arms, upon which he awakens. The story is trite and absurd, even by the well-worn standards of the genre.
But beneath this innocuous surface lies perhaps the most revolutionary literary works ever printed. Over the next few days I will be evaluating the various aspects of this wholly remarkable book.
Too long since I last posted. Once again the real world intrudes on my rich fantasy life, this time ending with the dissolution of my engagement. My friends know the details already, or know where to find them on the various message board communities that offered me emotional support during the storm.
And here I am now in the eye of the tornado.
Thursday, January 22, 2004
Studying a religion has nothing whatsoever to do with belonging to one. Sunday Church service has about as much to do with the Christian religion as the Cliff Notes series has to do with english literature.
After several years of studying the Christian (and related) religions it seemed about time for me to once again give church a chance, if for no other reason than to proclaim "been there, done that". (I consider myself pretentious enough to stride out of Sunday service and loudly exclaim "Vini, Vidi, Vici!")
To be perfectly honest, I would have greatly preffered to have attended a synagogue. I'm not the type of fellow who could even begin to pass for Jewish, however., and the WORST thing I can imagine happening to me at a place of worship is "get noticed". The conjured daymares of looking that goyish to a large group of worshippers in an enclosed building is close enough to my memories of junior high to make me scream "Oy gevalt!"
Maybe one day I'll be friends with a Jewish boy, feign interest in his religion and "allow" him to drag me to service with him. Of course I have similiar plans for befriending a buddhist, a muslim, and a hot wiccan ( "A sky-clad ceremony, what's that?" heh heh heh).
In the end I settled on a rather inoffensive protestant church of unspecific denomination. Though I hold the Catholic church in higher regard, and the Eastern Orthodox even moreso, the nature of the Catholic church somehow didn't, in my head, lend itself to the anonymity I was looking for.
First off, the Hymns were god-awful ( no pun intended). This is the kind of music you write/sing for your God? This schlock? I found the hymns offensive. Offensive to my ears, offensive to my sensibilities. I was offended for God.Maybe it's just me, but if you're going to play some music for your God, the being you hold in highest regard in the entire universe, how could you accept anything less than the best your race can produce? Why are churches not belting out "Ode to Joy" or Bach? Hell, throw on some Mozzart or Brahms even! I cannot concieve of God wanting to hear his parishners slur through a hackneyed, tone-deaf , bastardized folk-song.
But maybe that's just me.
Many other small things I found offensive. The Lord's Prayer. "Lead us not into temptation?" Am I the only one who sees something incredibly WRONG with that? Entreating a supposedly all-powerful, all-good God NOT to lead one into temptation?
I attended service regularly every Sunday for two months until I couldn't take it any longer. There were quite a few things that bothered me along the way.
The sparseness of spritual readings, for one. A paragraph from the Torah (excuse me, "Old Testament" ) and a chapter from the New Testament. Usually a Psalm (A bloody psalm!!). Chapter X from prophet A one week, the next week chapter V from prophet B ( who lived 500 years before the previous prophet A). Anyone know the Aramaic word for "whiplash"?
Christians seem to treat the Bible like they do communion...little "snack bits" of Jesus.
In the end the breaking point was, oddly enough, communion. Ritualistic, metaphorical cannabalism. From what I can tell, the value of the ritual is based on a single episode in the rather ambiguous Synoptic Gospels that involves, of all things, Jesus washing a man's feet. The transubstantiation ritual is commonly taken to represent the Last Supper, but I fail to see the connection between a barely-understood, obviously heavily coded sermon and a daisy-chain of ignorant parishiners lined up to munch on little pieces of Jesus' flesh, drink "of his blood".
I was reminded momentarily of the Middle-ages. Jews were accused of, among other horrors, holding secret rituals where they devoured the flesh of Christian babies.
Religion and Science.
Only recently were these two pursuits presented as contrary or antagonistic. For most of Western history, they were inseperable, conjoined, amalgamated.
Probably best to blame Darwin, he makes an easy scapegoat. Evolution vs Creationism. Its not quite that simple of course. Better to say "Evolutionary theory vs Dogmatic Literal-Interpretations of the Bible" or "the Theory of Evolution vs the stubborn ignorance to accept anything beyond preconcieved notions".
No, I'm not that bitter, Evolution is simply a Theory after all, and at least it has the decency to say so. I get the impression that the alternate title of "the Theory Of Christianity" would solve alot of societal problems from the get-go.
But no, it needs to be "The One True God™", a spiritual schlong-measuring contest. One pictures Jesus walking about Jerusalem in a black trenchcoat, weilding a Katana, and dramatically proclaiming "There Can Be Only One!". Lets try very hard to ignore the similarities between Jesus and Buddha. Or, if you want to get even more obscure, Jesus and Balder. The reprecussions of Joseph Campbell might not escape the ignorance of Church groups forever.
That is, of course, with a -verging on self-deluded-optimistic outlook towards the American Education system. But that's a topic for another rant altogether.
I remember offending one English teacher when assigned a comparative essay, I chose Jesus and Frosty the Snowman as my subjects.
Anyhow, back to the point: religion and science.
Once upon a time I wanted to become a scientist. I loved biology, zoology, tolerated chemistry and was fascinated by cryptozoology and parapsychology. But, eventually, the joys of science were replaced by the cold, hard realities of the current scientific world. Science, quite frankly, just isn't FUN these days. I mean, it is enjoyable in a dogmatic, anal-retentive sort of way...cataloguing genomes, observing gestation periods, testing hybrid medications. But no kooky science professor is trying to creat half-men/half-rats. No one is trying to re-animate corpses. No one is attempting to animate patch-work bodies with electricity. No one is even attempting to creata race of super-men, unless you count the So-Cal diet industry.
Science is now mundane, banal, repressed, and dogmatic. A scientist manages to clone a sheep and what happens? A group of politicians work damned hard to make it illegal to ever clone a human, while another group of scientists work as hard as they can to prove the experiment a fraud.
The interesting by-product of studying science, however, was that it proved to me the existance of a Creator (or Creators). I now firmly believe that there is (or was) some sort of deliberate, intentional, intellect behind the creation of the universe and everything within. "God" or "gods" is the only term I know to express such an idea, though I'm not sure its the most accurate one. At the very least the word "God" carries enough pre-conceived notions, prejudices, and emotional baggage to justify a new term altogether.
The leap in logic between believing that and accepting any religious theories is, of course, far too wide a gap for me to consolidate.
Tuesday, January 20, 2004
The invasion of religion (or the banal facsimile offered by my parents) into my life left me bitter and resentful. I was young, rebellious and angry-a walking pre-pubescent cliche. Naive enough to accept such theories as the transcient or philosophical nature of good and evil; that both are merely human expressions based on societal factors and personal views, of no universal or greater signifigance.
However, I held a conviction then that I hold to this day concering what was, in my opinion, one of the very few irreffutable universal evils or sins; willfull ignorance. So whereas many put in the same position would likely avoid all and everything to do with Christianity, I instead began studying it intenselly.
This is not to say my opinion of Christ's followers improved, at least not anytime soon. If anything the fact that I knew more about Christianity than any Christian I had thus far encountered made me all the more spitefull. It would take a lot of distance and time from the events of my childhood before my prejudice dissipated.I was a firm, if not aggravated, athiest.
Oddly enough, it was science that turned me into an agnostic.
My family comes from a part Catholic/part Presbyterian background, though I personally was raised an athiest. Religion held little interest for me for most of my childhood. It wasn't until the prelude to my father's emotional collapse, the beginning's of his midlife crisis, that I was suddenly forced to deal with religion as an intrusive part of my life.
I'm likely unaware of the whole story-I was young, and when you live under the domain of your parents as a child many important changes in your life happen behind closed doors. I can only relate what I recall- that around the age of 10 or so my sister began accompanying one of her friends to Sunday church services, and, before I knew it, my parents joined a community church and I was dragged along.
At first it seemed as though it was merely a social activity-a way for my parents to involve themselves in the community. It hink that is how it remained for my mother, but for my father it gradually became something else.
Imagine for yourself now the most hypocritical, arrogant, self-serving, self-righteous religious-nut you can think of. You are picturing my father. Religion was, for him , an excuse for hating others, for belittling people, for building himself up at the expense of others. Jesus was not so much his "special friend" as his special insult. He began inserting religious rants into his projects for work, one in particular I recall relaying his personal feelings about homosexuals in a memo concerning project engineering.
Add into this the fact that he had never in his life read The Bible-not so much as a chapter. What he knew about his religion was reduced to what limited to what few quotes he absorbed from Sunday sermons. And I hated him for that most of all. I hated all of Christianity for that. To me, it was a cult of hypocrites and fascists, a deluded pack of lemmings avoiding the rational world for the sake of a once-a-week group meeting re-affirming their own superficial senses of superiority and signifigance.
A history of bloodshed, bigotry, and prosecution didnt help my opinion. The Inquisition, The Crusades, Manifest Destiny..how could these be the work of the "One True Religion™"? More likely they were the manifestations of a tainted and corrupt institution that spread like a cancer across humanity.
Its been a few days since I've written anything for my blog and I'm not happy about that. My current job is annoying me, and quite unsatisfying. I'm experiencing severe burnout.
Creativelly speaking, I've been working practically non-stop on one of my books. Rather the research.
A problem arises in that the further the research progresses, the more daunting the task looks. I'm lucky if I finish the book before I reach 30, and often think of abandoning it to work on some fiction. Ultimately, however, I find the research much more satisfying than my casual fiction writing.
I'm... hesitant to discuss the details of the project online for copyright issues, though I can't seriously imagine any plaguarist willing to go to the lengths that I have researching the project. I've been working on this off and on for over ten years of my life now.
Saturday, January 17, 2004
The wisest man I never knew existed in a reality close to this one, but one that only I seem to recall. I sometimes find it hard to separate dreams and memories, and often mistake memories of dreams for vague recollections of events that never were.
If I am the only one who can remember an event , did it ever really happen? Can reality be proven without verifycation? Is an event's reality defined by memories of it? And what if those memories contradict each other?
If I remember a dream that in the future becomes a reality, does it cease to also be a dream? Can the two co-exist on some hazy, mist-like crossrealm? A borderland between the actual and the imagined, the memory and the event...
We percieve time as a forward event, but can our perceptions be trusted any further than our dreams? Our mind interprets the information from the enviornment around us in the manner it was programmed to.but can we trust ourselves? Can we trust the same organ that creates our nocturnal flights of fantasy to provide us with irrefutable facts and analysis during daylight hours?
The wisest man I never knew I knew quite well once upon a time. He exists now only as a dream, a former memory that found no home in this world. The scariest thing in the world to me is to forget what I never knew.
Friday, January 16, 2004
I wrote the preceeding essay in 2000 for submission to a now-defunct fanzine called The Hellboyologists. The founder of that fanzine is the publisher-editor of the fanzine I'm currently involved with, and there is a distinct possibilty an updated, expanded , and thoroughly revised version of that essay I'm currently working on will see print in a book devoted to the study of modern pulp horror. ( Keeping my fingers crossed).
UNDERCURRENTS OF LOSS IN ''THE CORPSE"
" Soon I think the King will gather us,
and march us down into the shadows under
the world where the old people go.
Too late the Sons of Adam will cry:
' Where are the children of the Earth? '
Gone. Look for, but you shall not find them.
Weep...For they are gone forever."
Thus ensues the bittersweet ending of The Corpse, Hellboy's first published encounter with the Fair Folk. Though Hellboy succeeds in rescuing the child replaced by a changeling from the Faeries, the reader is left with an odd sense of loss or incompleteness. The Faerie's plea, or rather admonishment, is not met with sarcasm or dispute, merely silence on the behalf of our hero. In a fact a whole panel of silence, suggesting a period of introspection not often expressed by Hellboy. For most readers the idea planted here is promptly lost and soon after, Hellboy is back in form, beating down opponents with incredible strength and characteristic gritty disposition.
And yet, within this speech is an age-old theme of the gradual and eventually complete annihalation of the creatures of magic from the earth, replacing them with the cold hard advance of technology. Many such beings, such as the Baba Yaga, already feel their time on Earth is past, retreating to the realms of Faerie; in her case "...beyond the Thrice-Nine lands in the Thrice-Tenth Kingdom" In this essay I plan to show the evolution and origins of this theme in literature and folktales, the examples and parallels of this theme expressed throughout the Hellboy mythos, and finally, the personal effects of this theme on Hellboy himself.
For almost all fantasy writers, focusing particularly on those who do not stray beyond the realms of Earth, there is an often underdeveloped idea that at one point the irrationalities of primitive societies were as much accepted fact as the the scientific boundaries and laws of today. Then, at an often oblique time, the age of magic began to decline, giving way to the mundanities of the modern world. In some cases this is described as a definite event, happening long in the past. For others, it is an encroaching reality, with a few stragglers still managing to coexist in this world with humans, often only on the fringes of human society. This precedent is not the invention of modern-day post-Tolkienists either, by any means.
In Irish, Scottish, and Germanic folklore this is touched upon frequently. In some cases there are documented folk tales of people who claim to have seen the Faeries up and leave, often in a single file, solemn progression. For the Celts, the retreat starts as soon as the humans first set foot on the island of Eire. A huge battle drives the Sidhe underground, and later further down untill they all but vanish, the remaining few becoming more and more diminutive in size to reflect their declining importance to the human world.
For the Norse, the end of otherworldly involvement with Midengard was much more dramatic, going out with a bang instead of a whimper. The all-out battle between the Aesir and the Frost Giants, Ragnorak, not only devided mankind forever from the Alfar ( elves ) and Dwarrows, but also destroyed all but one of the gods in an allegorical twist that, in modern interpretation, is buried in irony.The Greco-Romanic myths, on the other hand, provided no end to the gods' rule and, like the Roman empire itself, they merely stagnated until entropy.
From mythology into folklore, there is, as early as the seventh century, a German folk tale often entitled The Retreat of the Dwarves, describing a mountain full of Dwarfs up and leaving this world. According to Briggs, " By the fourteenth century, the fairies were supposed to have left the country, either recently or some time ago".
Even in Chaucer's Cantebury tales this is often mentioned, the Wife of Bath placing their departure "manye hundred yeres ago", in the equally-legendary time period of King Arthur. She further states that " ...now can no man see none elves mo" Hugh Miller, in the nineteenth century, recorded the rather miserable final departure of fairies from Scotland, the last fairy in the calvacade stating, " The People of Peace shall never more be seen in Scotland." An old man named Will Hughes is at one time recorded in The Folk-Lore Journal by Oxfordshire's A.J. Evans as witness to the final dissapearance of the Faeries from England, after a final dance near the Rollright stones, but reports of fairies in Britain continue well into the twentieth century.
The Irish and Highland Scots, on the other hand, though admiting that fewer believe in the "wee folk" now, do not even pretend to think they are gone. In her introduction to the aptly-named book, The Vanishing People Katherine Briggs quotes a poem by Bishop Corbet placing the departure in pre-Reformation England:
" But since of late Elizabeth,
And later James came in,
They never danced on any heath
As when the time have been. "
In the twentieth century, however, starting with Tolkien, this theme takes on a rather different tone. The Lord of the Rings, in an attempt by Tolkien to create a mythology for England itself, could hardly avoid the fate of the Elves. Instead of a sore procession, however, Tolkien imbued the departure with as much majesty as ever.
The elves, and several "elf-friends", boarded great ships that set sail for the Undying Lands. The scene is reminiscent of Arthur's departure to Avalon, to sleep until he is reawakened to lead the British (or, more accurately, the Welsh or Cymru) to new glory. Lloyd Alexander's Chronicles of Prydain follow suit, ending with the great leaders and magic-user's of Prydain's legendary age departing in a ship, while the Fair Folk shut the gates to their kingdom for the last and final time. Even Eilonwy, who choses to remain behind, must first remove the magic she inherently possesses.
The most recent interpretation of this theme I've come across is in the White Wolf role-playing game Changeling: The Dreaming , wherein the Faeries depart from the Earth , for the most part, shortly before the Renniasance and return during the ressurgence of "glamour" after the moon-landing of '69.
The reasons behind the departure of the Faeries are as diverse as the stories. For some it was merely the presence of man, an all-dominant species that does not, will not coexist with other intelligent lifeforms. Other suggestions claimed it was the advent of Christianity, a religion that did not hold with the recognition nor tolerance of spirits of any sort. It is true, at least, that the Fair Folk were described several times by the church as demonic, if not demons themselves. This is probably the origin of the idea that the Fae must pay an annual tithe to Hell. Even church members who did not condemn the Fae outright, referred to them as fallen angels who were "not quite wicked enough for Hell." On another level, there is also the " Tinkerbell " theory that is popular among philosophers...that faeries cannot exist without belief in them, making them dependent on, if not the creations of, mankind.
Additionally there is the idea that the Fae cannot live around, or are somehow intrinsically opposed to technology. Hence, as the world grows more modern, the Fae retreat further back. This theory is supported by the Faeries' well known weakness to cold iron. Of course, one can interpret that as simply a historical truth; any side fighting with bronze weapons is susceptible to an army that weilds iron ones.
In Hellboy, the expressed theme of the loss of magic from the world, or, more accurately, the end of the time when magical creatures dominate or are welcome in reality, is ever-present. Wake the Devil runs with this theme accutely, from the Women of Thesely to Hecate herself, there is a sense that these are creatures who are past their "time" and are desperately trying to return the world or alter the world to the point where they again are able to exert dominance over mankind. Rasputin, in his talk with the Baba Yaga in the epilogue, is obviously trying to postpone leaving the earthly planes. Baba Yaga becons him, " Stay with us. Your journey to this place has been too long. " Others of his kind, the kin of Baba Yaga, already left the Earth. Rasputin refuses, holding on to the mortal coils. Alot of Hellboy stories seem to carry an undercurrent suggesting that all these supernatural things he encounters don't belong in this time and age. Relics from a past time of magic that are holding on and thus causing problems for humanity.This is closely paralleled by Project Ragna Rok. Nazis long past their time in the world still clinging desperately onto old ideas and dreams. The modern world is no place for Nazis, any more than it is for Faeries. So Hellboy must root them out. Which brings me to my final point...
Where does Hellboy fit into all this? Essentially Hellboy is creature out of his time as well. In fact, it is suggested that he possesses the ability to end the age of man, an act that would seems to benifit supernatural creatures somehow and is found extremely desirable to them. Or is it? for the most part it is assumed Hellboy's role is to usher in the end of all things. If so, why is this desirable to creatures who are deadset against leaving this plane? Better no one is living on Earth if they can't? And why, then, if Hellboy is acting to the detriment of magical kind, do the Faeries offer assistance to him in A Box Full of Evil? Or are we seeing things to linear?
In Persian myths the world was ended three times already, and Asian mythologies follow similiar circular reasonings. In such a case Hellboy would not end the world as Anung Un Rama, but rather restart it, or reboot it, spiritually speaking. This would make sense as too why creatures who don't want to leave this plane desperately want Hellboy to carry out his "destiny", essentially reverting the Earth back to a point where they control the world again. Hellboy on the other hand, is taking a stand with humanity. Essentially having no more a place in the world than the monsters he fights, he creates a place for himself by doing what the humans can't. Taking care of problems humans shouldn't involve themselves with. If Hellboy tried to settle down and raise a family, I don't think society would accept that. He still doesn't belong. But by doing what he does he demonstrates to humanity his worth. As long as other creatures are willing to break the rules, mankind needs a protector who can play by both sets of rules. As for the Faeries and their motives for helping him...well, the Faerie are a fickle and unpredictable lot.
In conclusion, Hellboy is part of a long tradition of stories dealing with the theme of the transition or end of a magical world in exchange for a modern world. Hellboy as a protagonist is in a unique situation in that he belongs in the former world but has made a place for himself in the new world. Which also means that this theme is another echo of Mignola's stated series theme of "nature vs nurture."
Thursday, January 15, 2004
Richard Dadd's behaviour became increasingly erratic after the incident in Egypt. He expressed paranoid delusions that he was being pursued, and acted manifestly violent towards Phillips. In Rome, Dadd was overcome by an uncontrollable urge to attack the Pope during a public appearance. By the time the pair reached Paris in the spring of 1843, Dadd's symptons increased to the point that Phillips could no longer excuse them as the result of exhaustion or sunstroke. In late May, Dadd left Phillips in Paris and returned to England.
Dadd was by this point was convinced divine forces, usually manifesting as some form of Osiris, were calling upon him to do battle with The Devil. Richard believed the Devil could assume any shape he chose, and was incarnate all around him. Richard's father maintained publically that nothing was wrong with Richard, and discretely enlisted Alexandre Sutherland of St. Luke's Hospital to evaluate Richard's mental health.
Sutherland concluded that Richard was non compos mentis. Robert, however, was reluctant to admit his son to a medical facility and instead allowed Richard to persuade him that a recess in the country was all that was needed to clear his mind. Richard and his father travelled to the country villiage of Cobham for a respite, where Richard promised to "unburden his mind" to his father.
On the twenty-eighth of August, 1843, at a chalk pit called paddock hole, in a forested area outside of Cobham, Richard brutally murdered and dismembered his father with a knife and a shaving razor.
Richard fled to France for a brief time, where he was taken into custody after attempting to cut the throat of a fellow traveller. He was later returned to England for a hearing in Rochester. Police searching Dadd's rooms at Cobham and in England uncovered, among other evidence, sketches of all of Richard's close friends with their throats slashed, as well as a list of people "who must die"."Robert Dadd" was at the top of the list.
Shortly after Richard's twenty-seventh birthday, he pled guilty to his father's murder and was sentanced to removal "to a place of permanent safety without coming to trial" (Greysmith p.66).
Richard spent the remainder of his life institutionalized, starting at Bethlam's Hospital, also known as "Bedlam", where he stayed for nearly twenty years. Here Richard Dadd created the artistic masterpieces that would secure his place in history, including Oberon And Titania, Contradiction, and The Fairy Feller's Master Stroke.
The brother of Pre-Raphaelite founder Dante Gabriel Rossetti, William Michael Rossetti, encountered Dadd when he visited Bethlam and recorded this impression:
"I saw the ill-starred painter who was sitting with two or three others in a large airy room, having beside him a mug of beer or some other refreshment. His aspect was in no way impressive or peculiar, he seemed perfectly composed, but with an undercurrent of sullenness."
Dadd was moved to a new lunatic asylum at Broadmoor, outside of London, in July of 1864, where he continued to paint and recieve infrequent visitors. Richard Dadd died on January 7, 1886, "from an extensive disease of the lungs."
Richard Dadd was born in the town of Catham, in Kent, on the first of August, 1817. He was the fourth of seven children born to Robert and Mary Ann Dadd.
Richard attended The King's School at Rochester as a child. By at least the age of 13, he was sketching seriously. At the age of 20, Richard was admitted to the Royal Academy of Art. Richard won several awards while at the academy, and began exhibiting his work during his first year in the British Artists' Association. He became close friends with John Phillip, who married Richard's older sister, and William Powell Frith. The trio of friends soon expanded into a group known, in contemporary artist circles, as "The Clique", which included Harry Nelson O'Niell, Augustus Egg,and Alfred Elmore, and frequently met in Dadd's rooms in Great Queen Street.
In 1841, Richard Dadd was commissioned to produce several woodblock illustrations for Samuel Carter Hall's The Book Of British Ballads, along with the oil painting Titania Sleeping. For the most part, Richard's work was not particularly remarkable, rather it was typical of any of the gifted artists in Victorian England part of the stytllistic phase dubbed "The Fairy School".
In July of 1842 Richard's life was forever altered when he accompanied his artistic patron, Sir Thomas Phillips, on an extended tour throughout Europe and The Middle East. Dadd and Phillips passed through the Rhine Valley, The Bernese Alps, Venice, Bologna, and Alcona within the first month. From there, the two sailed to Athens, then on to Smyrna and Constantinople.
In late September, Richard Dadd and Sir Thomas Phillips returned to Smyrna, where Phillips negotiated with the British Ambassador to Turkey for the purchase of the marbles from The Tomb of Mausolus via The Castle of Saint Peter in Bodrum. Their travels led Dadd and Phillips on a brief tour of The Holy Lands and, after an excursion to the Dead Sea, they travelled by boat up the Nile Valley, reaching Thebes just before Christmas. At this point in the journey, Richard began complaining of intense headaches and sun-stroke.
In Egypt, Dadd encountered a small group of Arabic men smoking a "hubbly-bubbly", an arabic style waterpipe. Dadd joined them and claims to have spent five continuous days and nights smoking. The men never spoke, but Dadd became convinced that the sound of the bubbling pipe was actually a form of communication. He also claims to have deciphered a message by the fifth day concerning the Egyptian god Osiris. What that message was is left to speculation.
Wednesday, January 14, 2004
Ada Lovelace
A subject of a peculiar fascination for me, Ada Lovelace was the daughter of Lord Byron. Close friends with Charles Babbage (the creator of The Difference Engine), Charles Dickens, and Michael Faraday, Ada's interests ranged from music to gambling to computers. Like her infamous father, Ada's life was incredibly short-she died at the age of 36.
Ada is perhaps best known for her seminal article describing Babbage's Analytical Engine (the very first computer), in which she not only concieved of the concept of computer programming, but also predicted that computers might one day be used to create graphics, compose complex music, and serve both scientific and recreational pourposes.
As interesting as her article are the correspondences between Babbage and Lovelace, which are laced with poetic phrases (most likely a result of the opiate drug Laudanum both took). In response to Ada's request for Charles to visit her, he wrote simply:
"Forget this world and all its troubles and if possible its multitudinous charlatans-everything in short but the Enchantress of Numbers."
One day I shall write a Victorian science-fantasy/steampunk story with Ada as one of the main characters.
"But indeed the business of the universe is to make such a fool of you that you will know yourself for one, and so begin to be wise!"
- Mr. Raven, LILITH by George MacDonald
