Notebook Entry: Shhh! Don’t tell anyone I’m a stowaway
Splendiferous! This is surely my most brilliant plan e'er.
I barely even had to plan it out, it just worked out so well, all I had to do was take advantage of the various opportunities that just came my way. This is so exciting! Now I get to be with Puey all the time. Right now I’m hiding behind a barrel and writing in this book. The monks and sailors won’t notice me, I’m so small and I’ve beslidden myself into the shadows. I can’t quite see Puey right now, but the warship is beginning to arise, pterodons and seagulls are twining about the solar sails, and the skies of Jaràqtu are opening all around us.
It really was easier than I thought it was going to be. All I had to do was get up before everyone else and make my bed and make it appear that I had gone out into the fields to do my chores. I took the watering pails and the buckets of feed so that everyone would think that I were feeding the biddies and dinosaurlings, and I even left a flower upon my pillow so that no one would go in search of me. And it worked, it really worked! I set up everything and got dressed in the darkness and tied some ribbons about my wings and I packed some books and notebooks and crayons and apples and slipped on my ballet slippers and tipped toed outwards. I came into Puey’s room and left a note beside his pillowing for to inform him that I was going to the fields, pious and hardworking that I am, to feed the birds and dinosaurs. Upon the westron fields several long boats were hovering, and sailors and acolytes were carrying crates up into the shuttles reaching unto the warship. It was just so easy to sneak out among the trees and squeeze right into a barrel and close the lid upon myself, and then I remained as still as possible, and the sailors tossed the barrel upwards, and I got a little dizzy as I spun around and around, it was a sugar barrel, so the smell was absolutely marvelous, the sugar crystals were just dancing all about me, I almost felt as if I were a desert myself. I could hear the sound of ropes moving and the solar sails crackling as dawnlight touched them, I heard levin flashes among the masts and the bone oars, and the sailors were all singing their tnóje mallemarokings. The barrel spun from side to side as I was being tossed from strong arm to sturdy wing, and then I was set down, and I could hear the plunking of barrels being placed all about me. Oh this is just wonderous! I’m a stowaway upon Puey’s warship, and nobody has figured out that I’ve left. At least, I was reasonably sure that this one had to be Puey’s warship, or at least one of the warships in his fleet, or at least a warship going somewhere. I suppose I really hadn’t planned this out to well. But I could hear the sound of long boats arising, and the whole cadlong was arising, and bursts of light and energy I could feel building upwards in the storeys beneath me, and then the ship was arising aloft! Hurray! I was quite sure that Puey had to be on board, and I even sketched out some drawings on the back pages in this notebook.
And here I am now. Eventually I thought it would be safe to poke my head out. Everyone is just so busy around me, nobody is going to look at a stack of old barrels. I’m going to make myself far more comfortable and sit right on top of this barrel. Oh this is exciting! There he is! Oh, I’d better not let him now that I’m here. Let’s wait until we leave the Dimension of Jaràqtu, that way he won’t want to stop the ship to send me back. Now, since I’ve backed a lunch and some sandwiches and mochi and apples with me, I can hide for a couple of days, and then when Puey’s least expecting me I’m going to jump down before him and surprise him! Won’t he just love that! I know what I’m going to do, I’m going to crawl into his bedroom in the middle of the night, and when he wakes up he’ll see that I’m right there beside him. I just love being a stowaway.
I wonder what Karuláta is doing right now. She’ll be the last to awaken. Someone will be going into the fields to make sure that I’m alright. I wonder who will raise the alarum. Ixhúja? Fhermáta? But who will figure out that I’ve run away from home? Siêthiyal? I don’t know. It may take some time, and they’ll probably want to search the plantation quite throughly. That should afford me enough time to leave this dimension. And then I’ll be with my Puey for ever! Nothing can possibly go wrong.
What a glorious dawnlight this is.
I’m going to use this time to sketch out some ideas on what I’m going to teach Puey of Language yet. I think that after the thaumaturgical marvels of the exercises in telicity and volitionality and sentence structure, that I need to start teaching Puey some of the very basics of the grammar of Babel.
Basic Features of the Babel Language
There, I’ve written words in bright red ink. That means I’d better explain it. In language elements such as vocative and locative phrases have no fixed place in a clause or sentence. Relative clauses always follow the element they represent. In the examples below the Predicate and Construct phrases are underlined and the Subject is in italiξ, and you will see other elements floating about them.
Tuînamat óqlayòlkha Puîyus.
Puîyus gives flowers to friends or family.
Qíyatser tuînamat óqlayòlkha Puîyus.
Puîyus in the present gives flowers to friends or family.
Tuînamat óqlayòlkha tsenastélaràswaor qiêl wtsatìmujhar Puîyus lrúnatser.
Puîyus gives flowers to the princess, his friend, upon a green hill in the past.
Titles come before personal names. This yields Stélar Éfhelìnye or Stélaring Éfhelìnye for Princess Éfhelìnye, but Éfhelìnye stélar would mean Éfhelìnye, the Princess. Titles are fun! Stamórexha Stélaring Éfhelìnye, the Starflower Princess Éfhelìnye! Let’s just start tossing titles all o'er the place. I’ve always liked Fhermáta’s name Fhrúla since it means springtime. I’ll call her Qíriniîle Fhrúla, Regent Queen Fhrúla. That’s nice.
Koaselónge Stélar Éfhelinyèyejikh Qiriniîle Fhrúla.
Viceroy queen Fhrúla loves Princess Éfhelìnye.
As opposed to:
Koaselónge Stélàrejikh Éfhelìnye kae Qiriniileyàxhwa Fhrúla.
The regent Queen, Fhrúla, loves the Princess, Éfhelìnye.
Koaselónge Stélàrejikh Éfhelìnye kae Qiriniileyàxhwa ker Fhrúla.
The regent Queen, who is Fhrúla, loves the Princess, who is Éfhelìnye.
In those sentences you will note the focus marker –axhwa whose uses are myriad but which in general draws the listener’s or speaker’s attention unto it, and a form of the relative pronoun, ker which means, who is, to wit. I suppose the three sentences have a very similar meaning, but they have slightly different emphasis. In the first sentence Stélar Éfhelinyèyejikh is a title, so affix for the construct case comes at the end. Stélar is actually the plural form, but because my name can only be singular, the shorter form is just used and understood to be plural. In the next two examples Stélàrejikh is in the construct case, and Éfhelìnye kae is in the ingeminate case, so it means the Princess, being Éfhelìnye.
Note, however, that titles can break up the Predicate Experiencer-Construct joint. Usually one has to place the Construct Case right after the Experiencer Case, or after the long string of Experiencer Cases that make up the Predicate, but for titles the fhtótet affix that makes the Construst Case, -ejikh, olkha, ulkha, axhmikh, xhroe+, xhroa+ cometh after the final element. Consider:
Jaê Khnesqekaîxhren Khnoqwísìyejikh púsa.
I see the Virgin Empress Khnoqwísi.
No, wait, I don’t want to use that example. Mother has been horrid to me. I’m going to start giving tittles to others now. How about this:
Jaê’ Arlweiràkhqu Fherkifhèrejikh púsa.
I see the merchant king Fhèrkifher.
As you will note the affix for the construct case comes not on the title but at the end of the name. Now, when more than one name for the same person is used, the names are all considered as titles and the affix for the construct case is attached just to the last one.
Jaê Khnoqwísi’ Euláriyàyejikh púsa.
I see Khnoqwísi Euláriya.
Jaê Khnoqwísi’ Euláriya Tsetseîlwa Xhefhiênil Teîl Khmàkhura Xhráqa Khlálàyejikh púsa.
I see Khnoqwísi Euláriya Tsetseîlwa Xhefhiênil Teîl Khmàkhura Xhráqa Khlála.
No, no, no! I don’t want to use my Mother as an example in my lessons. How about this one:
Khmír Éfhelìnye Kháwa Teîrtlhe’ Eilyorieyána Stèlyarel Eiyuláriye Tsetseîlwa Paplínat Pwérùyejikh púsa.
I love Éfhelìnye Kháwa Teîrtlhe Eilyorieyána Stèlyarel Eiyuláriye Tsetseîlwa Paplínat Pwéru.
See, isn’t that better? Now, when referring unto Raven by title one may address him or refer to him as, Lord, My Lord, or Our Lord Raven. It is grammatically incorrect, or rather I should say, hazardous, to refer or address him as Your or his or her or their or someone else’s Lord.
Oh, My Lord Raven!
Khmaô Khaûntu jit Uîxu.
My Lord, the Dark One, I present.
The acceptable, and perhaps more poetic alternative to addressing Raven as Lord is to call him Our Heart. This idea came to me in a dream and I rather like it:
Aî poe qàxhles Jhàsqewa!
Oh, My Heart Raven!
And these are just made up of various words we have for the heart, Fhàfhta, fhafhàfthta, my or our heart, Lwamfhòtya, lwalwamfhòtya, my or our heart-brain among the Fhlùltekh volk, and Lwós, lwòxhnu, my or our heart, and Pikhótsa, my or our heart, and Qáqe*, one’s heart, and Qàxhles*, one’s stomache, or a Qhíng’s heart-stomache, and Qèswut, my or our heart, and Sténg, my or our heart or strength, and Xhetèngte, my or our heart, and Xhlèxhe, xhlèxha, my or our Qhíng heart-stomache, and Xhlòxha, my Traîkhiim heart, and Xhúkh, my sextuple mammalian heart. It has been my experience that the Fhlùltekh tend to call Raven lwalwamfhòtya, our heart-brain and the Qhíng call Raven qàxhles and xhlèxha my or our heart-stomache, and the Traîkhiim xhlòxha my or our gizzard-heart and even though we Xhámi Færie do call Raven our xhúkh, we pretty much call him just about everything at all.
Objects follow their predicates. Objects are in the construct case for telick clauses, objective genitive form of the locative case for atelick clauses, and absolutive case for volitional or non-volitional clauses. Moreover possessive clauses follow the same order, where the possessor comes first and that which is possessed comes second. Therefore one can say that Language is by nature Predicate-Object and Possessor-Possessed in that order. This I think makes the most sense, for this forces one to postpone descriptions and subjects, it keeps them humble and makes them all march to the same music of language. Perhaps thought itself follows such an order, the Predicate or Action first, and then the Object and then the Subject. I do not know. Fhólus and Aîya were telling me that Gibberish works in the same way, and that is usually how I speak Gibberish also, although they once sent me a note that read P’iji terena arawakan ifh’rasil malaq’asi man’aq’asqar khwèlipe xhmatyéstang tyèstang, and I only understand the last three words, Predicate, Object, Subject. I do wonder though about our Topic Comment constructions, though, for that seems to violate the order that I’m laying out.
I rather like beginning a paragraph with bright glyphs in red paint. Fun fun fun. Now, all words in Babel are really unmarked plural. That is, all words are considered plural unless the word has been inflected to be singular, such as with the affixes tsena- or ing or upwar, or if context dicates that the word is being used in a singular fashion, such as if it agrees with something else which must be singular, or if it is a personal name, or if the word being used is the irregular plural form of a participle which also has an marked singular form. Many Babel marked singular forms are longer than their unmarked plural forms.
Examples of Inflected Singulars:
Fhérma, those who look with wonder or awe, Tsènafhérm, fhérming, fhérmùpwar, one or he or she who looks with wonder or awe.
Khmérn, things, tsenàkhmérn, khmérning, khmernùpwar, a thing.
Lwánol, castles, forts, tsenalwánol, lwánoling, lwánolùpwar, a castle, the fort.
Qúra, viceroy kings, tsenaqúra, qúraxing, qúrayùpwar, a regent king
These forms are considered pluria tanta since they do not have marked singular forms and must be inflected to show that.
Examples of Irregular Marked Singulars:
Khnaôl, places, locations, khnaôlya, a place, a location.
Qraû, teachers, those who teach, qrauyelónge, he or she who teaches
Ùsyor, those who like, usyórim, he or she who likes
Xhùxorl, those who honor, xhùxurl, he or she who honors
Ptiîkh, those who kiss someone on the brow, ptiîkha, one who kisses someone on the brow.
I think it only right and mete that participles should be inherently plural and that their singular forms are oft more complex than their plural form. I’ve even recorded some similar examples from the gibberish that comes to me in dreams, where su’ri may mean clothes and su’riro is an article of clothing, q’asi are canoas and q’asiru is a canoa, and _khyuku’ _ are trees and khyu’q’u’ is a tree, and nome are women and nomeo is a woman and tup’akh are fhàfhel fruit and tup’akha is a single fhàfheling and kh’irm’in are qaqwèsani turnip radishes and kh’irm’inen is a single tsenaqaqwèsani neep.
Irregular Singulars of Mass Participles
I just love that red ink. It just makes the page sparkle so. Now, there are some participles in Babel which are mass participles, and by that I mean that they inherently refer to a subject which must be treated as an whole such as sùwam rain and uixojóxoi mud or slime. These terms are considered singular and are usually modified with singular postjectives and predicates. If one wishes to count them one has to use quantifiers which I shall discuss later. However, there are some participles which refer to mass substances and yet have irregular marked singular forms. The unmarked plural form is taken to mean All of the instances or examples of something while the marked singular form is taken to mean A specific instance of example of something. For instance, if we consider the participle Ùngan, ungánim we see that it means power, wealth, largess, instances of power, wealth, or largess, favors, households of many children, but in the singular it means an instance of power or wealth or largess, a favor, an household of many children.
We can chart it out like this:
Ùngan, plural, are power, wealth, largess, many instances of power or wealth or largess, many favors, more than one household consisting of many children
Ungánim, singular, is a specific instance of power or wealth or largess, one favor, a certain household consisting of many children.
Don’t you find it interesting that almost every single word which has to do with wealth or power also has to do with household relations? And many of the words for vassalage are also related to words meaning cousins or siblings. I’m digressing. Let’s think about these mass participles with their own special marked singular form. Here’s how I gloss them in the lexicon:
Pán, pàqhan self respect, instances of self respect
Pán qlaêkh, pàqhan qlaêkh ego, pride, hubris, despair, bobaunce, orgulite, instances of ego, pride, bobaunce, orgulite (sinful)
We can chart them out like this:
Pán self respect, instances of self respect
Pàqhan an instance of self respect
Pán qlaêkh ego, pride, hubris, despair, bobaunce, orgulite, instances of ego, pride, bobaunce, orgulite
Pàqhan qlaêkh this instance of ego, pride, hubris, despair, bobaunce, orgulite
Don’t you just love Language?
Stylistic versus Grammatical Features: The Unmarked Plural referring to a Logical Singular
If one considers this sentence, and by one I mean you, Puey, and by you I mean, my very adorable and wonderful and kissable Puey who yet thou knowest not that I am a stowaway upon your warvessel and I’m going to sneak up on you and surprise you with lots of kisses tonight, if you consider these two sentences you’ll see something interesting:
Xhthènteqhe qiêlutakh Puîyus.
Xhthènte qiêlutakh Puîyus.
Puiyus goeth to Þe hills.
Are both of these sentences grammatically correct? The wise would say that only the first one is correct since Puîyus is singular and must agree with a singular predicate Xhthènteqhe, goeth. And yet even venerable tomes such as The Holy Writ will contain sentences of the second sort, where Xhthènthe, they go is used even though Puîyus is singular. Poetry and song are filled with such devices, and everyone, from myself to the most learned sylvan priest to a Traîkhiim slave will say sentences of both types every day. So I’m going to make a bold assertion here. Are you ready my sweet and wonderful and soon to be kissed Puey dear? I’m going to switch quills now.
Both of these sentences are grammatically correct!
Aha! If the context makes it clear, the unmarked plural form of the participle can be used to refer to something which is logically singular. This is oft done, I believe, since the unmarked plural forms are shorter than the marked singular ones. Many marked singular forms may not be necessary, especially if the sentence or clause involves well-known places names, cultural terms, or personal names. And yet, and here I’m theorizing, but probably correct, Ha! Ha! since I did go out of my way to create language Personal names however often take the marked singular form not o agree with its logical singularity but because the fhìtsi marked form is always the emphatic one, and names are quite special words by nature. Both of the sentences above are considered grammatically correct, although the first one is considered stylistically more elegant. The first pàsqot sentence would more likely be found in epic poetry and formal prose, I suppose. But also in everyday speech. I suppose the first form would be more common by a majority, but we still hear the secondone.
Consider this example, my love. Pámaqa, pámaqim, means those who are great, but sometimes one says Kàrijoi pámaqim and other times Kàrijoi pámaqa. They both mean the same thing, but the first is slightly more emphatic, since pámaqim is the marked singular and emphatic by nature. Perhaps one could say Kàrijoi pámaqim for Kàrijoi the Great but Kàrijoi pámaqa for the great Kàrijoi.
I do think, oh Puey my Prince, that I should apologise for some of the inelegance of the lexicon that I am writing. A great many participles in Babel I have giving the rather ignoble translation in the mews and clicks of the language of Plantimals as those who are or do someone or something. Let’s think about the fun participle wtsát, wtsàtim. This participle can be used in apposition relative clauses in the khmuîthno experiencer case. And depending on what it modifies, it can be considered sentient-animate, non-sentient animate, or non-sentient inanimate.
Xhthènteqhe Puîye wtsatimùjhwa púsa.
Xhthènteqhe’ óqla wtsatimèkhmo púsa.
Xhthènteqhe qiêl wtsatimèpwo púsa.
I wended from green Puey.
I wended from Þe green flower.
I wended from Þe green hill.
So you can see why I call wtsát those who are green since it can refer to persons, creatures, or things.
And now you can see just how unballetic such a glossing is. Now are are some Babel participles which end in –o and are given in the Lexicion the definition of those who do or are something, and there are some that end in –ei adare given in the purafhaîrotu dictionary a very similar definition. And yet even though they may mean the same thing, our ears are accustomed to the rhythms of sound symbolism. The ending –o reminds one of the personal pronouns ó and ú as well as kó and kú and others. The ending –ei reminds one of ei, pei, tei and kei. So our lips may want to correspond participles ending in –o with sentient animates and –ei with non-sentient animates and inanimates.
Puîyus barely looks about.
Þe flower (already mentioned and established to be singular) barely looks about.
Puîyus is dead.
Þe flower is dead.
However, my tearsure, the following sentences are just as grammatically correct:
Puîyus barely looks about.
Þe flower barely looks about.
Puîyus is dead.
Þe flower is dead.
Both jhaîxei and jhaîxo mean those who barely see, zyxt, discern (someone/something), and both jháxei and jháxo mean those who are dead, the Dead. They are simply doublets in Language. One is tempted to try and form a parallel with the example I gave of Xhthènte Puîyus being grammatically correct albeit not stylistically elegant, but the analogy does not hold, there is no way I cay say that jhaîxei fits with poetry and jhaîxo with formal prose or that the –ei refers to things and the –o to people. They are just different words that we have. Hurray!
There are a small number of number of particples which are always considered grammatically plural. They are:
Kòrot, all things, everything, and Kòrpa, all things, everything and Tnaqnàsta all things, all persons and Púkh many or numerous persons or things and Qwús those who are many, more, and Theî few things and Thó few persons and, wait a minute, here are some fun examples of participles ending in –ei/o with a thing/person division, I suppose one could use theî to refer to persons and thó to refer to things, that would be grammatically correct but rather inelegant, back to pluria tanta, we have khórt for all things, all persons, everything and everyone and khleî many things and khló many persons and khmèngpa for those who are copious, many.
Moreover there are three affixes which always take the unmarked plural form and are also pluria tanta:
·ajhwen gerund, ·neß, ment, quality of maß of, amount of, property of, event of, state of (root) (pluria tanta) (9·s)
Khorna· each, every, owll, owll of, totality of (pluria tanta) (3·p)
·uxhwi each, every, owll, owll of, totality of (pluria tanta)(14·s)
Now, I’m going to write about
SHE’S HERE! HOW DID SHE FIND OUT!
My Mother is here! She must have been upon the warship the entire time! Did she figure it out? Did she follow me? Or is this just part of her being able to discern of time in a completely different way like the rest of her kin and
SHE CAN SEE ME! I HAVE TO ESCAPE! SHE’S NOT GOING TO CATCH ME AND
New Website - Dearest Blessings~ It looks as though after over 3 years and 1145 letters, I have managed to run out of storage for photographs of you all. So, I have con...
10 years ago
Post a Comment