You're legs still work, use them

One of the coolest things I've read in a while, paraphrasing, 'students acing a class, we'll reimburse full payment of the next course if right after it,' so, get a perfect score for the ride and essentially you're only paying for the final class-es, which is great if you're overexerting scholastically, and need to reduce your schedule. This idea is genius and should be instituted on my planet.

Still working on a Vulcan font that applies key combinations, dzh can j, but there are more clusters than slots. Still have to edit the SVG files to fit the target window of each letter, but the found github project will do the rest, hopefully cutting out the white-space, and if not, there's vector and font software somewhere internet.

There's a theoretical language group called proto-indo-european that takes the oldest known languages, and finds the linguistic community consensus of what their hypothetical roots would be. I spent three days OCD dumping it into a Memrise course from a PDF with some fun Spanish/French typos, or the occasional European-ism, perhaps those with linguistics doctorates are from a previous generation and speech. In a few months I'll release the beta. I like it better for not having IPA symbols, and seems way easier than the heritage languages that spawned from hypothetical-it. This is in hope that my proto-mind can find the right grammar to finish my rule, the search might be unending tho.

Going to try a new workout method, if a set takes 20 seconds, then only 20 seconds rest. For HIIT if the high interval is 30 the max rest/stop is 30.

The Korean alphabet is very logical, but the Armenian alphabet is easier to remember. Both seem like better substitutes for Vulcan if the purpose is to represent one sound with one syllable/symbol. Vulcan's circular script doesn't seem daily practical, and the modern type, based on media usage is letter-branching for combinations and sharing with the cursive version is admittedly hieroglyphic in nature, whereas the Armenian alphabet comes closer to approximation and the Korean alphabet comes closer to maturation.

Nonetheless, the Proto "europajom" has so many similarities with English that I'd considered making an eventual post called 'Words in English that are 4,000 years old,' which is interesting to say the least. The anthropological term for these people later was stolen/corrupted by despots, and only because the possible/likely speakers were the first to domesticate the horse, and let's say, drove on their enemies. 4ft person on a Clydesdale as much as 5500 years ago. Eventually number_chan shitlords claimed the name also, so there's no need to call it that.

In helping me assess the turning place it covers some 2/3 of today's languages, and I've already seen a lot of similarities with Spanish and English, and as an American, we've done this place with less than that at times.

Lookin' at you, KWYJIBO.

Besides that I guess the standard updates are due. There's a game called Trivial Pursuit, which I'll understand if you hate, but each card is easily an episode or chapter of any story. Finish the card, finish the A-plot. There are a few countries that I wouldn't go to on principle, and others I won't go to for practical safety, but you have to commend their criminals for embracing capitalism, so you can fear the free states all you want, it's when we start working with your criminals that you should fear. Some countries are shit enough on their own, I just had time to type about conlangs, and might edit my own vlog, I'm not in one of them. As the southwest US homeless crisis won't suffer the arctic winters, it's reached levels of depravity that classical stories solved with fire and brimstone -- fix your problem or be in forfeiture of arable territory. I will throw out liberals with the lunatics and convince myself there wasn't any difference, not exactly a stretch of imagination.

Let me stew on an idea and 6ch in 100 hours. Just enjoyable to use blogger without the google docs and 600+ trackers, once in a while, for a rant.

Proto > Modern, PIE > MIE; it seems to have expected traces of many languages, simplified, a variety of uniform verbs-types, endings, ablaut, does't write in IPA, object infinitives, druids, which doesn't appeal to someone previously writing about Merlin, blah blah etc, to end with a quote and my favorite from the textbook at the moment is:

"7.- Jos ghebhlām nē õike, podn̥s õike. 7.- Who has no head has legs."

/mjbanks

6CH O-tu Bezhun

6CH 2018-06-21 O-tu Bezhun

1 Dwindling Sparks, 2 The Wild Boyfriend, 3 Shadow of Slaves, 4 The Pirate’s Gift, 5 The Game of the Tears, 6 Snow in the Eye....

1. Dwindling Sparks
The day is dark and by fire the sun sets across horizon that stares will see the black circle crawl into the earth from the blood sky, night becomes stars and in mix of fog and smoke the stars flicker, painted in mist and ashes for war the young young enter the city, eyes in the night they wait till each fire is embers and remove the lights of soldiers, the city is dark, the sound of pouring liquids into the dirt.

2. The Wild Prince
A knife falls on stone at the edge of the city, and the prince awakens with dread as alarm, he knows every turn in darkness and slays the attackers as they meet, he speaks to his men and tells them to secure the walls and work their way in, he fights many and is forced to retreat, into the secret hallways of where he was born, the centurions secure the wall by ending the invasion’s escape method and reinforcements, soldiers with torches work toward the city center, reinforced by numbers gathering from the walls, the black prince fights an equal, the red prince from beyond the wall,

3. Shadow of Slaves
The soldiers gather and the torch light warms the air and casts echoing shadows on the floor, the red prince accuses him of weakness for not seeking a war with the red, and of laziness for not farming with the farmers, the black prince lists the battles he’s fought defending the farms from him, “i’ve never heard of you until you began poaching liives, why would I strike at the night shadow?” - the red soldiers attack to save their leader, but are stopped as the princes fight again, the prince disarms the invader by wounding him, and offers to fight him hand to hand, or he may kneel and be executed, they choose gladly fight, their words are equal, their skills are not as the dark prince toys with him to get him to speak, but also ends him quickly.

4. The Pirate’s Gift
The prince looks at his enemies, markings all similar except for the invader prince’s tattoos has one different, he takes the invader’s sword, spending the end of the night looking thru the old books for pictures, the invader’s tattoo he guesses is a rank, and that symbol a type of pirate, but the sword has symbols of distinction only found in one book, of the old evils

5. The Game of the Tears
The prince makes amends spiritually by burying his dead, and farming with his people, a remorse matched by his regrets, only to be confronted by invaders in daylight, with an orange hostage, they make the hostage cry, they make the prince cry as he begs for peace and meeting of their leader, they set the hostage on brandy fire, the hostage tears sparkle with magic, the summer farmland grows cold as winter, a demon speaks from the body of the hostage-unburned, perhaps someone the prince knew, “you’ve taken my pet, you are the warden of a crippled age, this macabre prehistory and the demons that could be, awake in you” - prince “you stay for your death”

6. Snow in the Eye
“I welcome death in all forms,” calmly - their battle is set, “we share a heart, now we share a loss.” the demon waves hand and a viewer is frozen by leg and falls, the ground making them solid, the prince cannot wait for survival and attacks, the battle begins, the demon blocks sword with arm, and pummels the prince tossing him with battery, so the prince swings harder, but the demon is so frozen that the sword only pierces the skin of the demon in human host, with this seen and dissuasive the prince finds benefit in turning momentum against the demon, the demon does not wildly swing-about, for cold winter is slow and deadly, and magic breath of winter snow blinds the prince, a move apart, behind cart the prince finds axe, the confidence cuts the ice breath, and the axe cuts hard deeper, the prince spins about-himself on a foot and lands whole axehead into leg, the demon cripples to almost a kneel, with the prince’s own foot for leverage pries the axe away and spins again with a scream, the demon blocks the full-sped axe in air at his chest, losing the icy fingers on that hand, the demon howls as ice shatters, the prince thrown into the cart, now a hand-axe he climbs into the demon’s arms and hacks into face and throat and chest, the last to find a heart of glowing blue diamond, both are screaming, soldiers returning with torches and oil-soaked arrows, the prince chops the heart and hurts his hands it cannot be cleft, so he pulls the heart out with his hands, it is ice too cold to touch and throws the heart into the distance, the winter falls like a single blanket of rain

The soldiers check black prince and cheer victory, they burn the demon on the spot, the ice heart gives a single beat and becomes dark, obsidian/coal, the fire stops, the blue moon rises, the eyes glow again

/stop

Cryomancer
or,
The Demon
O-tu Bezhun (Cold Eye)













~ mjbanks

Gatitos

The things that exist are drawn within the lines of reality, that which is everything else is drawn with perception, to imagine a future, to remember it in ways others cannot, the undiscovered truths of facts realized only by greater beings, and then there are the rest of you.

I hadn't really thought that this was a necessary post, condescending and pointless, they wander drawing lines in the air for others to see, and as much as i envy those tracing the celestial boundaries only to color them with dreams there can only be my objectification of those that draw these lines for others, how they put so many into layers of those above and those below, never knowing how low they themselves wallow in moral turpitude.

How very kind of you to lead those who can see, faithful to a promise you only made to yourselves, to not have need of allies in your quest to blame the world, a sovereign depression, a contagious angst, never a retaliation toward ... I'm getting ahead of myself, we know you didn't want to actually fix anything.

Well hello to the protectionists, who spent all of yesterday learning the day before's words, lashing out at the silent with your impudent rage, enough to spare time blaming others to celebrate disdain, but i shook hands with the devil just to see you smile, this repayment is paltry and infantile.

I despise calling people what you are as a mode, the rains do not cause the wind, the day does not cause the night, even the most colloquial languages and ways of life attempt to prevent barrages of profanity at their children.

I am I, of course except for when I am not, writing prayers to send the dead to where they belong, tremulous in circumstance the living are on their way, these matters of the day give me trepidation enough to light fires for the clouds and reign-in the eight seasons, not every echo pissing about a voice.

Make you weary, like a voice from the shadows are the whispers of war, like a thunder from heaven is a passing of storm, waves break on stones like words of the living, only do those that travel carry the sea.

I was thinking of the wailing witch of the sea and the man of the woods, one sinking ships, one hating trodden trespass, it is like this i in fact do see two worlds, there are those who do not see any suffering in the storm, the sea the banshee cannot control, there are those who dare not question, the leshy lets anyone leave if he doesn't see them steal from the forest.

Forever these i see as past and present, not forward or backward, not in existence in now, prevaricating without vacillation and heading to one or the other in the wrong direction, you too will be remembered in one way or the other when you are done.

A melody of the bird, how many notes to the cat.

Onus Imperitus

the stars made many noises keepign me awake and uncircumstantial, these by the way of trillions of exploding suns, across the night sky the light speaking to me from the many rays of sources of energy the cause and end of ascendent existence, and in this new wave the solar winds calmed me and I tried to sleep, with what is unknown, as my eyes sheild me better than intented, seeing what I believe, believing what I see, sitting and rembering all the times I'd slept, how my body rests on this rock of a planet, realizing my gravity i fell asleep and try to experience my memories sitting in daylight;

there is a new way to see the invisible, catching the imaginary and letting creatures evolve unexpectedly, conflict of great projections to toy with the emotions of the young, not a laff other than me, as i would chase magic and battle evil as a child, before the windows were opened, escaping to hide from monsters and report them to allies, many years ago, and now oft nigh on rare lest the ocassional demon or angel lofts about dangerously, for i began to let them apace as long as i can remember and naming them, and now I name you, and now there are still monsters of this world just as my dreams, laughing at themselves as only the innocent should, and some would call this game foolish and evil, are my dreams the things of evil and platitude, we shall see;

fighting to stay awayk at this point, the fear that gravity would hold me while the dragons approach kept me running, thoughtless, and now a fear that a perception holds any flaw is keeping embittered liberal creatures in this wasteland of callous skepticism and thunderous guesses to their giving of hasty platitudes, so much that they fight each other in this desert that slowly burdens the mind and sands of time, yet as they do they paint themselves inside out to collectively peck each others' eyes out, as i sit in the sun the colors of warmth from the sun on my face, on this planet, foretting which way gravity prefers, in the moments between moments as the rain has the right idea;





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ews - dark mirror

it was cold and warmer yet another night, i closed my eyes and began, thru the merciless awakening where the summer trees meet the first autumn rain, and earth spills over the ground to stones with scratchings like welcome, avast aprized afore, never fear of writing like the leaves, without ability to anger for the hunger and the noise, would it break for time of asking or the dead memories escape // tied together,of witch there are many weather found and nevermore, fields of eternal afterlife beyond the boundaries of memory or the skies that press against the skin from days that haven't risen as you fall into the stars, not unlike the unforgiven as a colony of mars, forgive the altruist inquisition or the terror of the river of time, the riveris faster at the end for the sand, but there are the waves gentle and disharmonius would my muscles rips to pieces to break from the depth i don't know all to catch the crying mountain or the drowning feildspring where the ligting chases fire into the bitterest of colds, even the ice know when to break or sink to forests far below where each drop of heaven's vapor coincides with ebb and flow, ifthe sand does all the thinking be the firstot me you show,

I rest on hatred of but not of canvas nor paint, thosetimes when the mind is blind between targets of direction because the blur and focus dance together, aware of situations like this time, i have seen, do i shift from thot to thot while you waitfor ice to throne, would you carry time before you down the river from your bones, the silver wasthe passage, not to lose awareness like a thred of fate i near the proxy and request another soul, i'mnot sure of what I do but this place cannot be home, yet a hole in the ground where the interned can stone their own, where ideas are but a mercy and in fairness, i pause to prove a point, this is what you meant by madness and worthless tho is bothers me, i lash to write the curse without a word, the ink spills as a window breaks, all a burrowing talon of the beast who counts against not hunting until toying with the quary, that this story could be stoped a condensation falsely trims the edges and the pain this hunt alone, should the mountain come to water, an avalance caused by predation unearthing