colophon

About accessibility:

First, if you have any concerns, comments, or requests regarding accessibility, please email me directly at doorbell@yone.house, and I will prioritize addressing them.

I recently updated most JavaScript on this site in an attempt to be compatible with ARIA, screenreaders, and keyboard navigability. From what I can tell it works pretty well, but there are certainly problems I missed—please let me know if you encounter anything troublesome. The most exciting thing to me is adding a text description option in my feelings form & archive.

My digital accessibility experience is primarily in ebook publishing, not in web design. Even though .epub files are build with HTML and CSS, and I know a decent amount about web accessibility modification, I have never built a website from the ground up before (especially not one that contains JavaScript). So, I am always learning new things as I go, and accessibility is certainly not perfect on this website; however, I am trying my best, not being afraid to experiment, using as many tools as possible, and trying to consider as many bodies and abilities as I can to guide me in this coding discovery process. Learning how to build this website and all the playing, imagining, and problem solving involved has been an invaluable resource for learning & thinking more about disability justice.

This colophon page was originally imagined in part for accessibility purposes, especially the color description section.

Alt text is important and essential, and the Alt Text as Poetry and Alt Text Selfies projects provide a great framework for writing it, so please check them out.

Informed by these projects and my own desires, on this site I like to use alt text as a way to add more personal, confessional, or non-visually evident context to images that is only available to a select audience of people who use or care about alt text (only done with non-functional images). I also use text descriptions alone for privacy and imagination, like in my about page portrait photo.

I do this beyond text description too—there are several features in code on this website that are easier to access if navigating the site with a screen reader or keyboard. There is more to find here, and everywhere, if you consider and care for the uncountably many ways that bodies can interact with the world.

I'm revealing this here so that visitors might try interacting with this website in ways that may be new to them, especially visitors with fewer digital access needs. For instance, alt text can be read visually using browser extensions, browser developer tools, or by looking at the source code; navigating a website without using a mouse always reveals interesting things (and, more frequently, frustrating things). There are so many ways to interact with the web, and sometimes the methods it is conventionally built to prioritize can be boring.

I am trying my best to crip this site, meaning I am trying my best to invert abledness in it, to participate in the flow of radical love and hospitality that disabled people have provided for all of time, to each other and to everyone. In my dreams, this will encourage people to crip their websites, too.

Generics of keyboard navigation
Free screen reader
Chrome alt text viewer extension
Firefox alt text viewer extension
Stacked draggable images must be separated before turning on alt text viewing extensions for readability.

an incantation
by Aimi Hamraie

We welcome you to the crip ritual of
Remote Access, 
a way to celebrate and be together that emerges from crip culture. 

We’ll start by creating a container for our party by imagining our 
  spaces glowing with pink and purple light. 
  
Imagine your space as a bright dot 
on a map 
of the night sky. 

When we zoom out, your bright dot appears 
scattered across a landscape of other dots, with lines connecting them 
  until multiple concentric circles of purple and pink light form. 
  
They shimmer. 

And within that shimmering, we charge up our circles with 
  elements of crip power.

We call in the power of 
Crip Access. 
crip as refusing normalcy. 

Access as the flow of radical love and hospitality.

Crip access as the element of facilitating belonging together for 
  all of us and 
    refusing 
to leave any of us behind. 

Crip access as flexible, ingenious, creative, 
  and world-changing. 

We call in the power of 
Crip Rage.

Crip rage as non-compliance, the fire of crip protest, the smash of 
  sledgehammer against sidewalk, of body against inaccessible
  building.

We call in the power of 
Crip Humor. 

Crip humor is irreverent, taboo, biting, political. 
Crip humor as turning the gaze back onto Ableds. 
Crip humor as a cornerstone of crip ritual.

We call in the power of 
Crip Slowness. 
Crip slowness as valuable methodology and technology. Crip slowness 
  as focusing away from ableist futures toward the pleasures 
    and value of the present. 
Crip slowness as a way to move and 
            a way to 
know.

We call in the power of 
Crip Pleasure. 

Crip pleasure as the joys emerging only from crip culture. 

Access intimacies, shared skills and stories, accessible potlucks, 
  mutual aid networks, extended kinships, and access as love.

This incantation, read before most Remote Access Parties, was published in Disability Intimacy, ed. Alice Wong (2024). Text shadow formatting added by me, for fun.

About code:

The HTML, CSS, and JavaScript in this website was coded by hand from blank documents, with the help of Mozilla Developer and w3schools reference pages, many many Stack Overflow posts, a few JavaScript libraries, and, to be completely honest, I originally used some local AI to make more difficult or unique JavaScript functions be more accessible. This site is hosted on Neocities, and my domain and email are handled by Porkbun. Every document was written and compiled on the Neocities website, which does not have a very user-friendly interface because absolutely nothing is automatic. There are probably better ways to make these files, but I don't know what they are, and to be honest I really like having to write every character by hand. I use the "Dreamweaver" visual theme, for reasons I don't remember at all but I think I just liked it.

Because of this situation, the code of this website is my largest writing project to date, despite the site's modest appearance. Typing and structuring this code, tags, attributes, and all, really does feel like a creative writing exercise. There are more pages in the works, and I'm excited to share them when they're done. I'm really proud of this website!

Screenshot of the exact code of this section. It is somewhat sloppily-structured HTML. The background is white, and most of the text is black but the element attribute text is blue. It is intended to be decorative. — This is what this block looks like to me.

The code of this website is entirely spaghetti code, because I learned as I went. It's making it harder to expand now, and every time I look at old code I am horrified, but maybe one day I will go back and sort it out. Please do not look at my global stylesheet, it is horrendous. But I am getting better every time I add to this!

About data:

I use Simple Analytics for data tracking of this site, which from what I can tell does not collect your unique identifier or provide your data to advertisers. I was using Google Analytics for that in the past which is really gross and I apologize for selling out your data that way. I just learned it does that, which is unsurprising in hindsight. If anyone has any better analytics recommendations please let me know—I really only use it out of curiosity for discovering the tendrils and connections of this website.

Importantly, your feeling color data is not tracked. Someone asked me about this the other day, so to be clear: all the form collects is color hex code, description string, and timestamp, and stores it as plain text. I don't use web analytics on that page either.

My Simple Analytics data is publicly available. The big spikes are almost always just me, on days I am editing this site.

About people:

Many people have provided the inspiration and education that built this website. I originally wanted to list them, but it felt like presenting an acceptance speech with nothing to accept, so right now I will omit the list. However, there are two people who are directly responsible for some pages on this website: Kameelah Janan Rasheed inspired this colophon page, and Elliot of special.fish inspired the lists page. Maybe one day I will have a Thank You page as robust as thefolkaholic.com/thankya.

This site more generally grew from people I've met at institutions I've had the privilege of learning at, notably School for Poetic Computation, Fleisher Art Memorial, the city of Philadelphia in general, and a select number of people at Swarthmore College.

If you are reading this website you probably inspired me creatively in some way, and I hope I've made that clear to you. So many loved ones, friends, collaborators, and mentors have added to this website in a huge way. Thank you!

If you think you're included, you are, and I made this for you:

About type:

Picking typefaces stresses me out a lot, so this website is built almost entirely with web-safe fonts: sans-serif; "Times", serif; monospace. (note: there are also web-safe color names!)

There are a few exceptions:

I occasionally use Hildegard von Bingen's litterae ignotae, the letters she developed to write her lingua ignota (using a font made by WurdBender on DeviantArt). I feel a personal connection to her for many reasons, and I use these letters to write something when I want it to be relatively secret. But I know they aren't truly secret—depending on what browser or computer or way of interacting with a website is used, some visitors may be able to read/hear it plainly. Many others cannot (without a little trickery). And many who know and love me already know what it says!

The type of the headings on my about page and my CV come from a menu my grandmother took from a Japanese restaurant she worked at when it closed in 1995. It was named Kyoto and was on Route 1 in Woodbridge, NJ. That address is now a Chick-fil-a parking lot.

I do not know the name of the typeface—I just took letters from the menu and rearranged them. I think it is a gorgeous typeface and if anyone knows or can find the name of it please let me know. The textures on those pages come from that menu too, complete with 31-year-old food splatter. And some of the words. And the horizontal rules.

I am using BIZ UDMincho from Google Fonts for the headers on this colophon page because I realized it is somewhat close to the menu typeface. I also like the name. I am becoming more typographically bold.

About color:

The primary color scheme of this website is adapted from combination 341 in A Dictionary of Color Combinations, Vol. 1 [配色事典大正・昭和の色彩ノート] by Wada Sanzo, generously gifted to me by my dear friend Ada. I am aware that the way I am using this scheme is not the most visually appealing. I am actively working on it right now and so this color description might lag behind a little bit.

I chose combination 341 because it feels like a digitally saturated field, with the sky and grass and ground, and sometimes the sunrise or sunset. And I was thinking a lot about fields at the time.

I adapted all colors from the CMYK values given in the book before I found out about this online version of the book by Dain Kim. However, the exact CMYK values on a screen did not match what is in the printed book, at least not in the light underneath the Noguchi Ben Franklin Monument on a bright-gray day (the literal values were all a bit more saturated on the screen, and maybe a little greener?). So, I adapted these colors as best I could to match. With a little fiddling.

All chosen colors in the code of this website are in HSL format [hue, saturation, lightness]. I like this format because I can encode meaning into the color property numbers in a qualitative way, as opposed to RGB format adding separate primary colors that have their own meaning already, or hex codes which are just opaque chaos to me. I also like the roundness of the color system, as opposed to a cube. These numbers are where the fiddling takes place: all hue angles stand alone with the color being their only meaning, but their saturation and lightness values are all slightly modified into significant numbers to me, while retaining the character of the color.

I have thought about this a lot. Here is a descriptive list of the main colors on this website:

Light Glaucous Blue

hsl(206, 61%, 88%)

This was the base color I found the color combination from, and it is the background color of the entire website. I wanted a light blue, and I read somewhere that if a beautiful memory could have a color that color would be light blue , and so I chose this one because I liked the word "glaucous," which describes both a "dull grayish-green or blue color" and "covered with a powdery bloom like that on grapes." That is exactly what the color is: a dull grayish-blue, like the bitter starchy texture of touching a fruit fresh off its tree. I like that it is the luminous, powdery color you see through that indicates a fruit has barely been touched. I like the feeling it leaves in your mouth: the astringent sensation of your boots pressing into crunchy snow but on your tongue and teeth and cheeks.

Just changed the nav and the blocks on this page to be shaped like a bush or treetop. Inspired by this Virginia Woolf quote:

Let him burble on, telling us stories, while we lie recumbent. Let him describe what we have all seen so that it becomes a sequence. Bernard says there is always a story. I am a story. Louis is a story. ... Let him burble on with his story while I lie back and regard the stiff-legged figures of the padded batsmen through the trembling grasses. It seems as if the whole world were flowing and curving—on the earth the trees, in the sky the clouds. I look up, through the trees, into the sky. The match seems to be played up there. Faintly among the soft, white clouds I hear the cry "Run", I hear the cry "How's that?" The clouds lose tufts of whiteness as the breeze dishevels them. If that blue could stay for ever; if that hole could remain for ever; if this moment could stay for ever— —The Waves by Virginia Woolf, 1931

I hope you enjoy looking at the sky through the trees while I burble on with my stories. If this blue could stay forever...

Saturation: 61 is the age of my Obaba when I was born.

Lightness: 88 is the age of my Obaba as I write this—a very lucky age.
Cossack Green

hsl(110, 97%,19%)

The color of the treetops that the nav and these sections peek through: a green like that kind of grass that is dark and long and particularly lush and always kind of wet feeling. ...I intend to do research about the "Cossack" aspect of this green, but in the meantime here is the Wikipedia page for the Cossack ethnic group. Lmk if you find any clues about green!

It is the background color of this glaucous blue text. On other pages it is occasionally used for borders and underlines, as an accent color.

Saturation: 97 is my birth year and the largest prime under 100.

Lightness: ~19 is the age I was when my disabilities started to present themselves.
Deep Slate Olive

hsl(108, 37%, 08%)

The color of this text—it appears as black, but is a dark dark dark green. You are looking up at a tree in a deep deep forest. It is used as a replacement for black in things like the outline of the lists on my lists page, and the header on this page.

Saturation: 37 is the age I thought my mother was for ~6 years of early childhood.

Lightness: 08 is a significant year to me because it was the final year of US commemorative state quarter releases, and my most vivid memory of ~2002 is when my parents bought a collectible display map for them at a mall. The memory is so vivid because I thought 2008 was unfathomably far in the future. Now it no longer is unfathomably far in the future.
Grenadine Pink

hsl(356, 100%, 90%)

It is used sparingly, and is the color of the glowing around these blocks and links. Honestly it doesn't look like grenadine at all—it's more like a paler inner-lip color that may indicate anemia. Or, it's the pink of the horizon ~10 minutes before the deepest part of a great sunset.

To be honest I may have amped up the lightness a little more than is true to the book. What is on this website is more like the book's "Fresh Color," which was one of my favorites but technically doesn't fit the scheme. Don't tell Sanzo.

Saturation: 100% is how hard I go on this website lol.

Lightness: 90 seconds / minutes / days are my favorite intervals of time. Can't explain why. Doesn't include hours, weeks, or years.

About texture:

I just read Application As Artwork by Be Oakley, published by their press, GenderFail. There's a little writing in the section "What Type of Books Do You Publish?" that made me think, and that I'd like to share:

First off, I hate hardcover books. In graduate school I wrote and published an entire manifesto on my love of softcover books. As a working class artist, a hardcover book does not reflect the exonomic or material aspects that I want to proliferate into the world. My most used paper supplier has been French Paper Co. Although it can be pricey, I am in love with the quality of the paper and the ethics/interactions I've had with the company. Publishing works on softer paper also fits conceptually with one of our popular publications, Radical Softness as a Boundless Form of Resistance. Producing books that are soft, flexible, and vulnerable are so important to GenderFail and those who follow the project.
—Application as Artwork by Be Oakley, p. 31

I decided I wanted to write about texture when I started using the texture of a menu I dearly love as the background for my about page and CV, around the time a friend lent me Fantasy by Bruno Munari, in which I learned about Munari's Libro Illeggibile N.Y. 1, a book without text, just different textures and colors of paper that communicate a loose plot, with a strand of red string passing through all the pages. Be's writing above was the final push to write this section, in mid-March 2026. Even though I make lots of ebooks (that I try to involve as many parts of the body in building), I think I cherish printed matter so much because of the textural experience of it. And I often think of this site as printed matter. And I want to do my best to describe those thoughts here. And I want those textures to tell some kind of story.

Like how Be writes of the texture of their books, my website is also soft, flexible, and vulnerable (or at least I want it to be, and to feel that way). I realized that I think about this a lot when typing out this code, and I want to make that more clear here.

I would really love to give unique textures to all individual elements on this site, but I am not sure how to do that visually without making it too busy. I wish visitors could have a stronger sense of tactility on these pages, feel the difference between all the colors and texts, because I do feel them when I'm building them. The only thought I have would be to change the speed and movement of the cursor a little bit while moving over each element, which I think some sneaky JavaScript could accomplish—however that would be disruptive and make this website harder to interact with, which I am actively trying to avoid. I wish you could just feel the screen with any part of your body and have it feel smooth or sharp or rough or slick or slimy, etc.

However, that is not possible, and so I'm relying on this text. In a way, text is what already gives texture to this entire site. The contours and surfaces that the words produce are in a dimension beyond the screen, I think. Here are my best tries at describing my personal imagination of what this website feels like against skin, broken down by page:

About

I wish you could feel the menu paper my CV and bio are printed on—it is soft and cottony and fibrous, a smoothness that still keeps itself interesting. Each individual letter is just slightly raised above the page's surface. The paper is marbled dark and light grays that contain the slightest bluish tint, and even if both colors are likely the same material, it still feels like the dark parts slow your finger down while running it across them. It feels like it is absorbing what your body leaves on it. It was produced in the mid-nineties, and kind of looks like fancy resume paper—the kind you would type/print on to impress a prospective employer before PDFs took over.

My favorite part of that paper, by far, is the 31-year-old food stains on it, which you can still feel with your fingers. That food soaked into the paper and dried, and the reddish spots are more rigid and rough than the rest, with soft waves and hills that your body can sense. The food expanded the spots of paper, but the edges were restricted, literally becoming hyperbolic. I really do like the contours of paper that got wet and dried unevenly—actually, I just recently spilled water on the book of colors I referenced when designing this site, and now it is all wavy and brittle, like an oyster's shell. It is still usable, but less orderly and more fragile.

The links menu section comes from the write-in sushi menu, also from that restaurant. It is very cheap and thin laser printer paper, cut into a square. It feels disposable and like there are thousands more in the back of the restaurant, something you wouldn't hesitate to scribble on the back of or something. It would be good for playing this game my Obaba taught me in childhood, which is apparently unique to places in Asia with American military overlap (???). Anyways, feel free to take a copy of my links menu, it is very replaceable.

Background

As I describe in the color section of this page, the light blue background of every page on this site, the "glaucous blue," is meant to feel with many senses, but I originally imagined it to feel like the texture of reaching toward the sky while on the earth. To me, waving at the sky always feels a little different than moving in any other air: even emptier than usual, but somehow filled with sensation. I think it's a feeling of reaching for something that is always very present with you but you cannot feel. A texture you feel inside your skin rather than on it. It could be unsettling, it could be comforting, it could be nothing at all.

Colophon (this page)

I go into this in the color section too, but I'd like the treetop-like blocks on this site to feel like brushing your hand against dense foliage. The "tshhhh" sound as you hit each branch, the "tshhhh tshhhh tshhhh tshhhh tshhhh" sound and sensation of continuing on to each clump of leaves in some kind of rhythm. There is a variety of tactile feelings in there—sharp, wet, smooth, saw-like, lush, etc. I kind of want to record that sound and put it here. I kind of want to record all the sounds of all the textures I describe and put them here. Maybe that is a future project.

This New Year's Day I went to a snowy meadow in Philadelphia and recorded the sound of my walking because I couldn't stop thinking about how it sounded exactly how this website feels to me. I planted sounds from a different part of that day in my digital garden, and one day I think I will expand on it here, in the future.

Lists

I originally imagined the lists as being printed on receipt paper, or some other thin and and easily-cut paper with a slight sheen. That is hopefully evident in the design and headers—it is the first page I intentionally designed on the web with materiality on the mind. I want the lists to be easy to take and fold into a wallet or hang on a refrigerator or placed in a categorized file for tax purposes. I want them to give an unsettlingly-smooth and also crinkly tactile experience, to say they don't have to feel that precious.

I added the square mode to that page (my first ever JavaScript function) because that paper felt so easy to crease. So, I wanted to allow visitors to pre-cut it into squares to communicate that texture. Receipt paper is in fact really good for origami if you get to know it first (it is able to stretch very slightly, which sometimes messes up patterns but also gives new opportunities).

Home

I want the pile of images on the homepage to feel like they were printed on glossy photo paper at a CVS 30 years ago. They are a bit squeaky and slick on the front, and comfortingly, almost velvety-soft on the back. I want sifting through them to be like unboxing piles of photos found in a family member's attic. Maybe they ask to be ravenously pored through and covered in fingerprints and dented corners, or maybe they need to be delicately handled just on the edges, and maybe the edges are kind of sharp and they have to be curled very slightly for structural stability. Up to you.

Cabinet & Garden

I'm not sure I can get into all those textures here, but I have been describing the textures of fruit in text mode on my street fruit page, which has been very fun for me. There are many more textures to explore on those sites: of brains, of paper, of sounds, of embossed text, etc. etc. Not today though!