Too much close in the sky

Insanity of the post of this morning fêz me to carry through that I simply could not prevent to try to function an entire entrance through babelfish. Nothing goes here...

Yesterday I removed my daily old one of the medium-school and continued the task that I had on the back part of some years of transcribing in the computer. In the process, I discovered some facts disquieting on previous mine self. I had thought always of the fourteen old years I eat me being bàsicamente a lesser version of current mine self, but such seems unhappyly not to be the case in all the respeitos. Although he has similarities definitively, I age ornery really pretty and the some arrested sights that I would characterize now eat razoavelmente ackward.

I assume that I do not have to be everything that surprised -- I mean, a terrible lot I happened in the twelve years of intervention. I assume that I had not carried through only how much I moved. But it is disappointing because I always had presumption that, if I to have in some way if to find with then of the back part, us very in little in them we transform automatically friends fast; but I do not know if I to like exactly this person if I to have to meet with now.

E this fact makes to question me all the luck of the things on the events of my infancy, and wants to know it if some misfortunes that I made responsible in the hardone of the world could preferivelmente have had had more to make with my proper attitude.

I am not being all what hardly in myself, even so, case that any one is worried. I know that teenagers is whiny for the definition, and I have one many of the things that can only be learned with the experience. E does not have no question that I had suffered very in the hands from perversity of the richness. Still, I will have some words chosen well to offer self of my youth callow if always we possibility to meet with.

S.O.S School

Some years ago I received an e-mail at work from a gentleman in Brazil who was hoping to start a children's museum in his town. As far as I can tell, he was asking for advice and tried to use machine translation to convert his Portuguese to English. The results, as you can see, are nearly unintelligible:

Expensive Mr. Josh Brandt I was happy in receiving its email and of its availability in helping me. As same Mr. it said that much information to be changed by email, I ask to it what voçê suggests me. My dream and power to mount a museum for child in the molds of the theory of Multiple Intelligences. E I do not make the lesser idea as to make a museum. It helps me.

I just think that's pretty fantastic. By the way, you've seen the Uzbeki dish detergent, right?

Postscript: I just realized that the "My dream and power" line must originally have been O meu sono é poder..., meaning "My dream is to be able." But of course e also means "and," and poder also means "power," whence the hilarity.

For those of you who enjoy mistranslation by computers, you must check this out. Good for endless hysterics.

Slavic script swapping

Since it's largely a matter of historical circumstances (as opposed, for example, to phonological appropriateness) whether a given Slavic language ended up being represented by the Roman or Cyrillic script, I've often wondered how difficult it would be to switch things around. How hard could it be to replace one Slavic language's orthography with that of another?

Actually, it turns out to be quite a lot harder than I had, at first, imagined. If I intend to keep letter values more or less as they are in the modern languages, I'm faced with the fact that there is not a one-to-one correspondence between Roman and Cyrillic characters (except in Croatian and Serbian, obviously, but that's a whole other story). The two script families also have rather different ways of conceptualizing various morphophonological processes, particularly palatalization.

To illustrate the problem, take the Russian word for "seven," семь. The onset and nucleus are unproblematic in a Roman orthography: se-. Note that we don't have to do anything special to indicate the palatalization preceding /e/, as back jers in Russian changed to o instead of e as in West Slavic, which means that there are very, very few /e/s without initial palatalization. How to represent the final palatalized /m/, though? There is nothing in the Roman script like the Russian soft sign, a letter in its own right which indicates that the preceding letter is palatalized. The analogy with other Roman characters in Slavic languages would be "m" with an acute accent -- but that would be inventing, which I'm trying not to do. Any wise thoughts on this point would be thoroughly appreciated.

Luckily, my sample text has no words with final palatalized segments absent from Western and Southern Slavic. This is from War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy:

«Что это? я падаю? у меня ноги подкашиваются», подумал он и упал на спину. Он раскрыл глаза, надеясь увидать, чем кончилась борьба французов с артиллеристами, и желая знать, убит или нет рыжий артиллерист, взяты или спасены пушки. Но он ничего не видал. Над ним не было ничего уже, кроме неба — высокого неба, не ясного, но все-таки неизмеримо высокого, с тихо ползущими по нем серыми облаками.

I've done my best to make an elegant conversion of this into Roman script. There are quite a number of issues I'm still not sure of the best way of handling. For instance, should the genitive ending -ого be changed to -ogo to match traditional spelling in Cyrillic, or -ovo to match pronunciation? In the same vein, should что end up as čto or što? I need some Russian speakers to help me with this one. An aesthetic question is what to do with palatalized consonants followed by back vowels. Should I follow the Polish route with e.g. sia, or the more Croatianish śa? Here's my first attempt:

"Čto eto? ja padaju? u menia nogi podkašivajutsia", podumal on i upal na spinu. On raskryl glaza, nadejaś uvidać, čem končilaś boŕba francuzov s artilleristami, i želaja znać, ubit ili net ryžij artillerist, vziaty ili spaseny puški. No on ničevo ne vidal. Nad nim ne bylo ničevo uže, krome neba — vysokovo neba, ne jasnovo, no vsio-taki neizmerimo vysokovo, s tiho polzuščimi po nem serymi oblakami.

Polish presents far more problems in an artful Cyrillic transcription. It is the only remaining Slavic language which still has nasal vowels, for one thing. Happily Old Church Slavonic does provide us with ready symbols for these, albeit they make a text containing them look thoroughly medieval. Both front and back jers became /e/ in Polish, which means that there are oodles of nonprepalatalized /e/s floating around, and I really don't much care for the Cyrillic grapheme э. I've decided to use the good ol' back jer for these ("hard sign" for you Russian speakers), which is historically accurate anyway. My sample text is from The Peasants by Władysław Reymont:

Mateusz się porwał w ten mig do niego, ale nim mógł zmiarkować co bądź, już Antek skoczył jak ten wilk wściekły, chycił go jedną ręką za orzydle, przydusił aż tamten dech y głos stracił, drugą ujął za pas, wyrwał z miejsca jak kierz, nogą drzwi wywalił na dwór, i poniósł go prędko za tartak, do rzeki ogrodzonej płotem i cisnął z całej mocy, aż cztery żerdki trzasły kiej słomki, a Mateusz niby kloc ciężki padł we wodę.

The presence of those back jers makes me want to throw all the jers back in, just like in pre-reform Russian. I might as well recall the jat while I'm at it, though I'm not quite sure where this ideally belongs etymologically...actually, this is a problem with the jers as well. I can deduce certain ones -- for example, from okno "window" and okien "of the windows," I can tell that there was once a back jer between the "k" and the "n," so okъno and okъnъ. In many other cases, though, I've just had to guess until I can get my hands on a Polish etymological dictionary someday. Below is my initial attempt, looking as old-fashioned as possible. I hope that the current state of our Unicode-enabled browsers is sophisticated enough to display all these weird characters.

Матэушь сѩ поръвалъ въ тънъ мигъ до него, але нимъ муглъ змярковать цо бѫдь, южь Антъкъ скочилъ якъ тънъ вилкъ вьстеклы, хытилъ го еднѫ рѧкѫ за оридле, придусилъ ажь тамътънъ дъхъ и глосъ сътратилъ, другѫ уѭлъ за пасъ, выръвалъ зъ мейсца якъ керь, ногѫ дрьви вывалилъ на двуръ, и понюслъ го прѧдъко за тартакъ, до рѣки огроѕонэй плотъмъ и тисънѫлъ зъ цалэй моцы, ажь чьтъры жердъки трясълы кей сломъки, а Матэушь нибы клёць тѩжьки падлъ въ водѧ.

If I take out all the unpronounced jers and other bits of creative anachronism, I'm left with

Матэуш сѩ порвал в тън миг до него, але ним мугл змярковать цо бѫдь, юж Антък скочил як тън вилк встеклы, хытил го еднѫ рѧкѫ за оридле, придусил аж тамтън дъх и глос стратил, другѫ уѭл за пас, вырвал з мейсца як керь, ногѫ дрьви вывалил на двур, и понюсл го прѧдко за тартак, до реки огродзонэй плотъм и тиснѫл з цалэй моцы, аж чтъры жердки тряслы кей сломки, а Матэуш нибы клёц тѩжки падл въ водѧ.

It's kind of weird, but I don't think it looks thoroughly ridiculous. The only thing I'm seriously dissatisfied with is the treatment of the Polish ó/o distinction, which I've simply transcribed phonetically and thereby lost its morphological logic. One final possibility would be to do away with the back jer for /e/ in favor of "e," and then find a new symbol for prepalatalized /e/. Ukrainian does this with є, so maybe it's worth a shot:

Матеуш сѩ порвал в тен миг до нєго, алє ним мугл змярковать цо бѫдь, юж Антек скочил як тен вилк встєклы, хытил го єднѫ рѧкѫ за оридлє, придусил аж тамтен дех и глос стратил, другѫ уѭл за пас, вырвал з мєйсца як кєрь, ногѫ дрьви вывалил на двур, и понюсл го прѧдко за тартак, до рєки огродзоней плотем и тиснѫл з цалей моцы, аж чтеры жердки тряслы кєй сломки, а Матеуш нибы клёц тѩжки падл ве водѧ.

I'm really very curious whether the above attempts make Cyrillic-language readers feel more comfortable, or just laugh really hard.

I should probably note that I'm not actually advocating any of these systems, lest anyone think that I am once again completely insane. But I do think it's a fascinating exercise.

Vowels are for chumps

For some reason, in the last year or two I've become slightly obsessed with the idea of writing English without vowels. I had first conceived of the idea back in 9th grade, but it took me about ten years of tweaking to get a model system into a state that worked for me.

From a purely academically curious point of view, I continue to be surprised by how little trouble I have in reading English in which only the consonants were indicated. So how necessary are vowels, really, for a well-oiled orthography? Hebrew and Arabic, inter alias, seem to do just fine without them. The only real problem is one of homonymy: "bt" could mean bat, bet, bit, bot, or but; "til" could be tile, tail, teal, or toil. My hope is that context will take care of this, but I need more experimental data.

In my own experience reading transliterated texts, though, the concept seems to work astonishingly well. This makes me wonder: is the modern marvel of the phonemic alphabet in which both consonants and vowels are written really the best of all possible orthographic systems? Maybe the Phoenicians had it right in the first place.

Here's an excerpt from a favorite book of my childhood, transliterated into one potential version of a consonantal script (from Adrian Mole from Minor to Major by Sue Townsend: London, Mandarin Paperbacks 1992):

Uuk ep uŧ sr ŧrut, kdnt sulu, trid tšut dunstrz bt kd eunli mnj ekruk. Trid tetrkt mi fđrz etnčn bi bŋŋ en mi bdrum flr uŧ eskul šu bt mi fđr šutt, 'Stp đt bldi bŋŋ'. Evnčli ei snt đdg dunstrz uŧ emsj tkt ensid ets klr. Ei uitd feijz, đn ei hrd đdg brkŋ en đstrit. Et hdnt dlvrd đmsj! Ei uz klus tdspr. Ei hd tgt ep tgu tđtilt bt hu ei gt đr ei dunt nu; et ez el ehizi blr. Ei std et đtp vđstrz nkrukt ez lud ez ei kd bt mi fđr hd hz Elma Kugn rkrdz en su ei uz frst tgu dunstrz ttl hm ei uz el. Mi fđr lkt en mi muŧ nsd, 'Krist Elmiti, Eidrin, ir tnslz lk lik Plrs mslz! Wt er iu duŋ dun hir? Gt bk entu bd et uns, iu ful.' Hi tk mi tmprčr: et uz 112 Frnhit. Bi rits ei šd bi dd.

Et ez nu fiv mnts tmdnit, đdktr ez kmŋ en đmrnŋ. Ei jst pri đt ei kn lst eut entl đn. Šd đurst hpn, ei hirbi liv el mi urldli gdz tPndra Briŧuit v69 Elm Tri Driv. Ei ŧŋk ei em vsund mind. Et ez vri hrd ttl wn iuv gt etmprčr v112 Frnhit.

Note: Lest you think I am completely insane, I swear that there are at least two other people besides me who have succeeded in reading this stuff, one of whom was not even a linguistics major.

Anyway. Compared with the standard English version, the omission of vowels uses 31% fewer characters and 28% less space. One can only wonder at the reduction in trees needed for sacrifice to the printing presses of the English-speaking world if we were to adopt such a system.

...not that the contingency is a likely one. Still, I think it's a cool idea.

Next week: We explore the marvelous possibilities of consonantless writing systems. I i a ee i eay ie a o o oeia o u a iea, o ou?

Wish I had the bends

So there's this device called the harmonica. In its most familiar instantiation it has a row of ten holes, each of which contains two reeds. By blowing or drawing (this being the preferred term over "sucking," for obvious reasons) through each channel, a note is produced. On the most common type, pitched in C, for instance, blowing on hole 4 gives you a C, whereas drawing gives you a D. Simple enough.

The complication is that it is actually possible to produce notes in between these two values (a C# on hole 4, for example), using a technique known as "bending." As far as I can figure out, this must be achieved by modifying the vocal tract configuration such that its resonance frequency overrides the natural inclination of the reed in question and causes it to vibrate at a different frequency. Or something. This must not be quite right, though, because it's only possible to bend in one direction -- on hole 4, for instance, one can only bend on the draw -- so the bend is always from high to low. Some accounts suggest that the two reeds are actually working in concert to produce the modified tone, though I have no idea how this could be the case, since the resultant sound is clearly that of a single reed.

I swear that I have been modifying my vocal tract to the full extent possible without creative use of a scalpel, but my tones remain woefully even. Not even the slightest wobble have I obtained, try though I might. I fear that this is one of those techniques that can only be achieved by achieving the technique, and once one reaches this stage it becomes so obvious that it's hard to imagine not being able to do it. Like rolling one's Rs, perhaps?

In any event: I am frustrated.

My final thought before adjourning for the evening is that I am feeling very sick to my stomach after eating too much ice cream at Fentons at Amelia's birthday party. After years of consideration, I have reached the conclusion that about a half cup is the maximum amount of ice cream that I can actually enjoy, which is difficult at the aforementioned creamery because their portions are measured by the bucketful. Hooboy.

One of the many problems with IALs

...is that they always end up with inflated phonologies. What is the point of an international auxiliary language that takes learners years to learn to pronounce correctly?

I was going to say that, in the earlier languages, there just wasn't enough understanding yet about these things for their creators to make good choices; but Volapük actually did a surprisingly...acceptable job. In the consonantism, anyway. Well, at least Schleyer tried.

I'm not just talking about big, highly publicized projects, though I should probably mention in passing some of Esperanto's monstrosities, such as sciuro [stsi`uro] "squirrel." Virtually every...no, scratch that: every auxlanger seems determined to ignore the fact that vast chunks of the world population will be unable to distinguish between at least some of the phonemes of his purportedly ideal language.

Seriously, taking in view comparative phonologies, the inventory of an IAL should really never be any more complex than the following:

Consonants:

p t k Ø
m n
s h
r

Vowels:

i u
a

Syllable structure:

[CV]

Even such a small system requires a number of provisos, around palatalization (e.g. /s/ and /t/ before /i/), free variation (realization of /r/, particularly), for example.

(Note: There is, of course, a certain amount of wiggle room within the framework of a "maximum mininum" phonology. It's up to the creator's largely orthographic aesthetics, for instance, whether /r/ or /l/ is chosen as the base phoneme, as many languages have only one or the other and speakers will need to recognize it regardless of its position on the alveolar sonorant spectrum. /y/ and /w/ are quite common cross-linguistically, and might be considered for inclusion, but I've omitted them here because I would hate to see the distinction between e.g. "kiya" and "kia" bear a semantic load.)

Anything more than this and there's got to be quite a lot of willing suspension of disbelief going on right from the start. Of course, it's obvious why no language with a phonology like this has (to my knowledge) been submitted to the IAL-interested public: mathematics. With nine consonants and three vowels, we have a pittance of basic roots: 27 monosyllables, 729 bisyllables, 19,683 trisyllables. It's difficult to work with so little phonetic material.

Still, for those of us who do believe an invented IAL for the world would be cool, there it is. Either we should consciously say, "Well, working within real cross-linguistic phonetic limitations is too constricting, so I'm just going to pretend they don't exist, even though this means that this is mainly a form of artistic expression rather than a real attempt to create an IAL," or we should accept that every real attempt at a worldwide auxiliary language from here on out is going to have to wrestle with this problem, and probably have much longer words.

Maybe studying Rotokas should be a prerequisite.

Esperanta Mistraduko de l' Tago #1

Tiun ĉi artikolaron mi verkas kiel Esperantisto por Esperantistoj. Ĝi firme ne estos unu el tiuj faritaj de neparolanto temantaj pri la "problemoj" de E-o, nek parolo pri la eraroj de studantoj. Temas ĉi tie pri mistradukoj al Esperanto tute akceptitaj de la Esperantujanoj, sed kiuj tute ne devus aperi laŭ la bone klarigitaj filozofioj de la lingvo -- klareco, logiko, neŭtraleco, ktp.

Ironie, unu el la plej seriozaj eraroj farataj de E-o-parolantoj temas, laŭ mi, pri la filozofio mem. Kiel lingvisto, mi scias, ke lingvo ne povas esti kaj vera, vaste parolata, kaj ankaŭ tute logika, sen kreema malordo. Ĉiu lingvo enhavas malordon. Senescepte. Ĝi estas unu el la iloj, kiujn oni uzas por esprimi sin vorte.

Sed Esperantistoj vaste ne scias tion, ĉar ne ĉiu parolanto studis kiel lingvisto, kaj en ĉiu lernolibro la verkisto krias pri tio, kiel "E-o estas la plej logika lingvo de l' mondo!"

Mi volas, ke Esperantistoj komprenu, ke ankaŭ E-o havas tiajn loketojn de malordo. Tio tute ne estas malbona afero -- se oni ĝin nur komprenas! Ĉar ĝenas min ege, kiam "malordaĵoj" aperas en la lingvo, kiuj tute ne havas sencon se oni ne parolas jam Eŭropan lingvon, kaj ŝajne neniu rimarkas aŭ plendas.

Ekzemple: "priskribo."

Uzante la regulojn de E-o, kiujn ni ĉiuj konas kaj amas, kion tiu ĉi vorto devus signifi? Nu, "skribo," unue, estas aŭ la ago de skribado, aŭ io skribita, kiel letero, libro, eseo, noteto sur papero, ktp. Pri la "pri," ni trovu kelkajn aliajn vortojn kun tiu prefikso ĉi:

priparoli = paroli pri
prizorgi = zorgi pri
priplori = plori pri

Sed! Ĝenerale, "priskribi" signifas ne nur "skribi pri," sed ankaŭ aŭ eĉ pli ofte "paroli pri." Aŭ pli precize, "paroli pri io, donante specifajn informojn, por ke la aŭskultanto povu imagi detale."

Mi ne plendas, ke tio ĉi ne estas logika. Kiel mi jam diris, logiko kaj homaj lingvoj ne kunloĝas harmonie. Ĝenas min, kie tiu ĉi mallogikaĵo estas rekta traduko de la latina vorto, kiu ekzistas ankaŭ en pluraj nunaj Eŭropaj lingvoj. Tia traduko estas facile komprenebla por parolanto de indoeŭropa lingvo, sed E-o supozeble devus esti neŭtrala, ne nur "revortigo" de alia lingvofamilio. Kie malordaĵoj ekzistas (kaj ili necese ekzistos), mi preferus naturajn, ne kopiitajn.

Ĉiaokaze, kiel ni solvu la problemon? Mi ne certas, ĉu jam estas alia vorto en E-o, kiu esprimas la saman ideon; oni povus elpensi novan -- ekz. "limni," aŭ io tia -- sed kiu mi estas, ke mi postulus, ke la tuta mondo uzu mian inventon? Sed restas tiel, ke ni havas tiun ĉi tre oftan vorton, kies ekzisto defias la akceptitan filozofion de la lingvo. Estas nia devo aŭ ŝanĝi ĝin, aŭ konfesi, ke ja ekzistas idiotismoj en nia kara lingvo.


IDIOTISMO

Post tiu longa enkonduko, jen la vera Esperanta "Mistraduko," kiun mi priparolos hodiaŭ. Nun, estas vere ke, kvankam tiu ĉi vorto ŝajnas konsisti el du radikoj, idiot- kaj ism-, ĝi efektive estas nur unu: idiotism-. TAMEN, la formo de la vorto estas bonŝanca por multaj Esperantistoj, kiuj vere kredas, ke idiotismoj estas idiotaj. Per la esperantigitaj vortoj de David JORDAN, en la alie bonega Being Colloquial in Esperanto (El Cerrito: ELNA, 1999):

Idiotismo oni fakte pruntis de la franca lingvo. Tamen, ĝia ŝajne normala deveno de idioto estas en bona akordo kun la vidpunkto de la plejparto de Esperanto-parolantoj pri lingvoj plenaj je idiotismoj!

Kia terura kaj danĝera aserto. Ĝi malgajigas min plurkiale: (1) ĉar ĉiu lingvo plenas je idiotismoj -- kiel longe la homaro havos metaforon, tiel longe ekzistos idiotismoj; (2) ĉar idiotismoj aldonas grandan parton de la koloro kaj belo de lingvoj, kiel eĉ Zamenhof diris: "lingvo absolute logika kaj sen idiotismoj estus lingvo senviva kaj tro peza"; (3) plej grave, ĉar ĝi mokas la naturajn lingvojn tute sennecese kaj kontraŭsence.

Ne nur unufoje mi renkontis tian senton en la Esperanto-komunumo. En La Bona Lingvo (Vieno, IEM 1997), Claude PIRON diras

Aliaj fremdlingvoj abundas je arbitraj reguloj, kiuj estas kvazaŭ la kapricaj decidoj de diktatoro elpensinta pli malpli sadisman manieron omaĝi al lia potenco.

Se ni reiros al la baza filozofio de Esperanto, ni trovos la jenon, de la hejmpaĝo de ELNA (elangligita):

[Zamenhof] proponis Esperanton kiel duan lingvon, kiu lasus al homoj, kiuj parolas aliajn denaskajn lingvojn, komuniki, tamen samtempe reteni la proprajn lingvojn kaj kulturajn identecojn. Esperanto ne anstataŭas ies ajn lingvon, sed simple sirvas kiel komuna dua lingvo.

Kial do tiom da negativeco pri naciaj lingvoj? Kiel Esperantisto, mi tute komprenas kaj laŭdas la valoron de Esperanto, de funkcianta internacia lingvo ĝenerale. Kaj mi forte kredas, ke la mondo bezonas Esperanton por atingi veran interkomprenon. Sed tio ne signifas, ke la naturaj lingvoj estas senvaloraj, aŭ ke ili ne estas lernindaj!

Ĉiu lingvo havas neimageblajn profundecojn, kiuj simple estas netradukeblaj. Oni povas komuniki tre, tre multe pere de Esperanto -- sed la riĉecon de aliaj lingvoj oni povas sperti nur lerninte ilin. Estus granda malgajaĵo, se la homoj evitus la lernadon de aliaj fremdlingvoj pro la ekzisto de Esperanto.

Estas hororige, ke la kulturo de la parolantoj de la Internacia Lingvo stimulas malŝaton pri la naturaj lingvoj anstataŭ intereso kaj fiero. Mi ne estas la sola persono, kiu rimarkis tion ĉi. Se vi estas ano de la Esperanto-komunumo, kaj vi neas ĉi tiun problemon, vi devas aŭ ne honesti kun vi mem, aŭ ne atenti.

Tio ĉi estas grandega problemo por nia Esperantujo. Sed notu, ke ĝi estas problemo pri la kulturo, ne pri la lingvo mem -- kaj tio signifas, ke la respondeco estas nia por fari ŝanĝojn, kaj ankaŭ ke tute eblas. Ni devas konfesi ĝin, kaj vigle batali kontraŭ ĝi, ĉar alie ĝi ĉiam restos obstina baro kontraŭ vera mondpaco kaj interkompreno.

Pro tio la vorto idiotismo maltrankviligas min. Mi ne dubas, ke homo kapablas pensi pri ĝi ne kiel "idioto-ismo" sed kiel aparta ideo -- ni faras tiel senĉese per la idiotismoj de la propraj denaskaj lingvoj. Sed por la nunaj tagoj, kiam senlernadaj sentoj pri la veraj kvalitoj de homa lingvo ankoraŭ estas danĝeraj, mi timas, ke tia vortformo betonas malĝustan pensomanieron.

Kiel antaŭe, mi ne estas la voĉo de Esperantujo, kaj mi ne rajtas diri, kiel la lingvo ŝanĝu. Sed mi ja rimarkas, ke ekzistas vorto "idiomo," kiu nun samsignifas kun "lingvo." Nur ideo.

Mi lasos vin hodiaŭ kun frazo de la PIV pri la signifo de "idiotismo." Strange, ke tiel simpla, logika, ĉiea afero povus instigi tian fervoron de malamo.

"Sintagmo propra al iu idiomo, sen sintaksaj similaĵoj en aliaj idiomoj."

This is a blog

I hope eventually to post things which may possibly be interesting to me and the other handful of people in the world that would find Optimality Theater funny.