The Prime Derivative

A lot of linguistic hoops to jump thru, to get Dalle to make Vulcan images. If I can get it going better, without copyright infringements, I can use it for Vuhlkansu. AI is trained on other artists. Artists are trained on other artists. Libraries are full of books, written after reading books. Good and bad AI art, good and bad books. 

The Vuhlkansu Insight

The Vuhlkansu Insight:

There was a chill in the air from the north and for the causes of skies a glow from the badlands that called to Sonok, a tired sound of insanity rang in faded honor by which the hum of the planet faded, a dismal disconnected eerie otherworldly madness familiar now something else. Unable to sleep he entered his closet and took a long coat that stopped at his boots and left his tenament, the humidity and heat unbearable as he marched into the metro subway and boarded, as time was unwitnessed the desire to arrive where unplanned fate would bring the decision to hidden choice, caring for the clock quite less than the next station where little but a refueling unit and an unattended rental dock with recreational bikes. He paid at the cost of wondering what was beyond the horizon a blue unit shining away the light, and in these loud thoughts of habits formed a choice to ride into the badlands until the conveyance was out of fuel, staring at the sky with the sound of the engine still raging in a faded memory the clicks and bops of nature surfaced from the sea of stimulus with predictions and intrigues. Walking for an hour he finds the mountains of Mel'ival, the pathways of abandoned mining and tourist litter were overwhelming with the environ muted by the new experience of wandering the unknown shadows each grain of sand, each crag edge a mountain in itself peaks of light and darkness within the mystery of mazes, the stones a blend of ancient ages and the waste of a Pli-Tchlana, a moth the size of three Vulcans whose threat is in distracting volatility when it knocks rubble on its predators, in the gathering mist moisture drains thru the cracks pulling together the red color it makes into tiny puddles in places. Sonok takes the red-colored residue and gives himself a mask of warpaint before continuing, a break of instinct for a ritual ceremony, a change of face in the fading light. 

Sonok moved away from there with the rocks beneath boots the sound of sand and gravel, the poise of his gait the trembling of cooler air from the north and the mountains as the shadows began to grow against the singing sky of gray and looming light pressing its way into the passage, the ground gives way to soil and forest depleted of short summer months the likes of exceedingly tall trees with broad-leaves already sewn into the soil, the high altitude marsh home to special sounds as all marshes are, a colony of ants marching together where a Tiko leaves them began twitching and clicking luring in the bird that made the discerning mistake. It was time to rest or eat, which he couldn't decide and so gave acceptance and did both, he licked the red paste from the back of his hand before eating a purple food ration closer to powder than paste, but resembling both, convincing himself how appetite had been filled he heard a noise from behind some distant shadowy hillside of trees, in darkness quiet and muddy steps he walked to the source of curiosity where a glow filled him with ideas of curiosity and mischief, a fire and others of the survivalist cloth sat by it, tending to the flames that wash without tide against a cemetery forgotten when the badlands were abandoned for the war, the unmistakable smell of Tlingansu wine and Rigelsu chocolate typically sold for sehlats, the open packages nearby next to broken security locks the group quickly ran to Sonok, smiles and open arms quickly reaching toward him he as quickly drew his phaser, they refused to speak and slowly moved backwards. Slower still stood their leader unlike the hoodlums in their styles of tatters he was dressed much like himself, the hair was pulled back and tied while filled with red moth paste, a breath of courtesy and a long pause as they stared at each other, even slower he gestured for them to back away, insisting on them to back farther until they sat realizing and choice, he says his name, it is Tarm Vorm'kulsu, from the nearest town, despite his boots being clean and issued by the nearest colony off world. The suspicion wouldn't settle as distant fog blinded question and crickets ignoring the need for him to hear himself think as Tarm opened his coat, and sat, before Sonok could notice he was staring at Tarm's phaser being set in front of himself, the open hand pointing to a gravestone seat. Sonok sat, but wouldn't unhand his phaser as they talked. He spoke to them like friends, but held back on topics like subordinates and strangers, describing himself as a trader on vacation but using charm he would slip and use words of bounty hunters and assassins. In the challenging conversation with Tarm, he described himself as a fictional persona, as a bounty hunter himself to surprise and doubts from the others, in a search for theives, the description of paltry desires to assume them to be worth insult, when they didn't kill him he felt the hate jarring sense of shifting understanding, 

They were somehow gone therefrom the morning, in the lot on the seventh number of the seventh force, the terrible fading day of night, the fading night of cloud cover darkens the septenuary coventry month, what would this colony planet take place or placings in the contest of agenting space and where it rests for coasts of dawn and dusk on worlds from space in sights. 

A creature in the dark too nightfallen shades and whispers covet a flying creature clicking as it flies thru the similitude of darkness it held as day, perhaps the midnight had fallen on the other side of the winds of coolness quite contrary to the day which pulled warmer savannahs together for the heart of the two sons that now palaces fortress by treehaven and the occasionally brightmost star in towering furnaces of dark matter and its neglected entropy. 

It seems they must have made knights of ghost in this chambering dimmings and maze of fog, in the quiet languor that sullies wyverns and dragons to sleep, a terrible thought mind dashedly atrait, insomuch alter the convenient paradigms normally assigned to idiosyncrasy, the snow covers moss in the riverbed, the roots above the layer of frost upon that time the layer of fernned mosses, no dread or dreary dare not tread. 

Gone are the days of summer's content mishappily, storn, wrotted slothly, disheard on subjects, this the path of Kolinahr in midsubject, the ruins of culture preternatural as with a face tackled by erossive time, too complete for artwork if titles were ancient names now forgotten. 

The mouth of it in unrequited silence the shores of darkness pay this primary sense now bereft of rifts as memories shuffle with contemplation, what expression was the monolith of broke shatters and smoke matters the infidelity of truth, in the waking glow of fog the makes of mystery and night the Chi of the cave a pouring and crawling fog, what one of many expressions had scorn, the ideation in cypheration into logic. 

Simple vibration sings with the night as the symphony of evening fauna hides the dangerous call beneath, and with roots groaned the dirt to unplaced footing, from the dark comes a face, becomes caping trenchcoat battle weave, becomes walker becomes the men from before, using a great alarming stun siren, they walked with immunity and guns drawn, the essential at obliged step, quicker and quiet run into the screaming trees. 

Behind the bark and noisy vine leaves, thru the dank soil with hints of steps and soft gaunts of gait, the hearing gathers their muted shouts and the time is only to run, each separate along their side, without confidence in escape the chance to take out the gunmen faced here, suddenly mutual surprise the fallen foe point of contact blast, deja vu to the sound of danger and audible footsteps, a second shot and blind from the previous the energy misses one and wounds the follower, five but half for one second, another shot to four, each time the thoughts dwindled, portrayed from notes for final bows the forest became interesting until the final shot silently echoed back, it was the same as the night left inspiration, many steps into the cave there the terminal and communication with the elders. 

Rom sha'lak goh-na'Sturakeh u'ish, pupak s'wak heh tryjarsu. Skek dahik. kya rishan. 

Sitha 4 ek'tra, Vithlu maat. 

Sviha

Nam fi’heya Rumara k’vohr wilat she yon

Lu d’rachanya heh sehlat vesht waklar eifa

Vesh-tor lamekh sal-tor esh t’ha-gel t’au

Khau au spo’te’kru tehnat igen vi’ek shi

Betau mu-yor ekonik rim il stukh dan’tsurik

Tal t’nash-veh eh rim vathsu t’veltra t’etek

Aitlun na’vokan la u’ahkh-shi s’weh vesht t’etwel

Eh sarlah s’toran t’ahkhsu eh nei t’mautiklar

I kastk’uh on vi’solektra u’ukrau vu k’glu’es

Rika dungi fiterpau Gol’kov t’ek solek 

Lunikkh t'Kraith

Quiet here in the reckoning place

the sentient noise and the endless sleeping sea

my mind screaming with fear of what waits me

and make it thoughts and sensory emotion

to be here aware passes actions to the past

and am here in now and then wandering not

not wandering then and now in here 

but where i am the microbes blunder microcosm

outside of this planet's atmosphere four moons

four moons to wax and wane in frozen time

beginning eclipse, and ending eclipse

the setting and the rising of the twilight horizon

in immortal, this way, un unbearing, this way

outside the sphere of influence and dismay

that mortals weep and children play

and the atmosphere is just an end of life

as we know the nothingness nihilistic stares at stars

as if the sky looked up to the earth

and the earth looked ever down again

and from the night sky a night moon watches me

after the night carrying only starlight

any darkness echoing against the body

at the starts against the world

all the many moons of darkness

with the daylight skies are echoes of fires and life

why the plasma of two great eclipses battle the atmosphere

where ever day makes dawn and dusk

whose light bounces within the world and sky

winning prize of fire's rest and mountain's eye

wander to the center of the sea and seek land

winds of change move over nations

winter pushes against brilliant sand

whereof another star watches like the pendulum

between the day and night in the lavish

where the summer and winter will not ravish

is the worst for place to sleep among them

the histories of towers and shadows demanding

with the memories of pages demanding

make this place for every wandering moon and star

to live in the place between day and night

the night sees the sunrise

the day sees the sunset

sharing discord sowing state of dishonest seed

in the request of remission of time's paucity

or is it pausitude, or passingness, 

and the sound of flowers blooming like thunder

in the rumbling caves of time

that the only war is wasted to find three moons

three moons watch while I sleep

three moons watch while I eat

three moons watch while eternity cannot wait

they are the best three to be

to survive the beneath the sky without so much as why

always watching two of four and never watching one

with time to see beyond the air

as winds winds engrave a mountain stare

and in the time forgotten in the particles we share

wondering what sleeps deep within them

and what moons think is down there
and would time have found a cure.

Lunikkh t'Kraith

(The Kraith's Poison)

Are you out of your Vulcan mind?

While I'm soon to ask r/Vulcan mods (where I almost posted the first half of this) for clearance to pin a post once a year on codifying words not listed in  VLD, here's this boring rant. For metadata and google alert purposes - VUHLKANSU. I'll post to it something like an update with all the project links and around the web stuff active -- if you see something here that's all links, it'll be just one and i'll post something written arbitrarily in-trade. So...?

Watching ST-ENT for the first time... I heard the translator Hoshi (the linda park), say "Pon Fo Maran" to T'Pol (the jolene blalock), eventho everyone is saying tepaul / tehpahl so far, and yet it wasn't given subtitles, I rewatched the shot, the encoded subtitles didn't translate it in my VLC-player either. T', t-apostrophe, is a tap, there's no vowel after it. 

It's in VLD as "Ponfo Miran," and labeled an expletive. It's accurate to say that emotional statements are invective in Vulcan culture. Memory-Alpha has the same translation, among many with off translations and bad spellings that I'm going to pick TF apart later-ons. Also, IDK why the article states that Vulcan "was" a language spoken. Not for cannon or head-cannon either. Lastly, that writer/producer Mike Sussman, NASHAUT , DU, he'd provided the translation from his production notes. - that it means "go to hell."

I know few speak Vulcan. I know this is TLDR and my response to "ponfo miran": yes and no. 

You may close the tab now. It's really open to interpretation - 'no duh, that's why we were reading till now' - none of that, ...this is how the latest articles are written, for the umbrage reader. Let's continue. HNY BTW. 

Pon, time. Fo, shell. Maran, one instance of a drift. Ponfo miran, but miran isn't a word otherwise, it becomes an profanity, later a curse, then a turn of phrase, then a preposition we use as a filler. Vulcan profanity is just like any other, there are words for anything, altho there are a few times it doesn't require an English construct to idealize the same sentence. 

Hoshi was interrupted as T'Pol responds in English. There isn't any Vulcan spoken for the rest of the pilot episode, "Broken Bow," Push Kes-Wun, where Hoshi hears something, the Vulcan says she didn't, everyone hears it, and Hoshi says 'ponfo miran'.... 

Each word has an implicit state so, pon fo maran means, time is shell is drift, time-shell-drift, ....there are some similarities with ser/estar purpose besides the point. Maran comes from Marau, to drift, and he could've easily conjugated the word or emailed somebody, and wrote phonetic notes for the actors, and the actress, could've had her plate full that day. 

As it was a debate, Hoshi could've been saying anything before the Vulcan interrupted. 

"Pon fo maran" ha? the time shell drift yes? -- I took it as a rhetorical comment at first, as if to say, 'did your memory of events drift eventho we all heard the noise?', and we'll never know. Since everything is implied, she might've said, 'did my recollection drift or do you hear it now?' - these are ways to say how most language seems to drift into go to hell, these days, the umbrage era of online. The only ones that seem to handle no tone of voice in text are the robots IRL, fascinating, captain. BUT....it could be what she was about to say, calling her a time-shell-drift (you vulcan), as in vapid, vulcans mythology has them in endless war for resources and their educational structure a priority. It's also my understanding that they evolved from iguanas and cats, in the evolutionary tree of life, so there's something different. Or it could have been "Pon Fo Maran" na'bogozh. Time-shell-drift to hell, aka GTH. 

We'll never know. I know I don't want to post this, but I owe you as little/much after the fact that this shouldn't be a blog that just stops. You're reading about the coolness of something everybody knew from TV that you missed because you were outside perambulating, tyvm spellcheck. Wouldn't that crunch your mind if you found a blog about the steps someone was documenting toward an international conspiracy to cover up an interplanetary mystery and/or magic cabal and/or and it stops right before....

mjbanks / Sonok 

Returnity

In returning to the grave I was dying to sleep.

And other wonderful phrases of the dark and the deep. Hello everyone. My name is CENSORED and it's time to do a post. The randomicity of all this thoughts to put into a single entry, thanks for reading, you're super, have to take the same format as always. I feel, that interaction is my second language, I get it but there's not a lot of grace to it. Comes it with the normal expectations, look people in the eyes because they expect you see them speak their emotional disdain with their eyes, and we smile at them for all their attention, but eyes don't speak. I've always found it the same when the cats are staring, they're about to attack, they've just not a why yet. I'm particularly offended by the amount of people who for their own sake stare until you make eye contact simply because they have to look at what they're talking-to, dogs bark at targets and sing with their eyes closed.

I communicate fine with the keyboard. I miss chat-rooms to a degree, the reading, the requirement of short term memory and interesting logic. All this mass hysteria that is infotainment is just backround noise.

In finding my distaste for change, the constant inviolable frustrations of insomnia and hundreds of other ingredients from mental disorders that mend my psychic armor, not very often you get hit in the face with a fish, but not something worth begging strangers to do. So I get into my returnity, this shapeless endless schedule and drink from the darkness, were sadness to make be wary it wouldn't remember the echoes of insanity, and I look the same, this saddening madness, this maddening sadness, this repulsive need to write with one eye electrostatic and the other on the void. There is not a place for the over-complete, and I am incomplete without it.

This very egocentric writing entry distasteful, and the days I've spent at the gymnasium. Turning it into a pattern, able to handle changes, perhaps unless my endorphins are primed, thru-the-roof, then there's some cognitave staggering. I mean, there's no problem, I'm sure it's fine, without jittering or twitching. I was interested in mirroring the others, and that means normalcy, a logical variable, my disposition to be a maintained physical gym-goer and so far so good. mjbanks.tumblr.com is where I discuss that. I'm having no trouble focusing on my body, I'd like to focus on others, but honestly I need to study first. In a simpler time there's no need for psycho-social remunerations.

SO, change of topic time, in a way.

....and then I see the national debt is high and I think why can't gov't work for free, only take donations, and give it all away to only the needy? because they're politicians, that's why, that someone needed more and so they stole it, but phrased it nicer, instead of making more money. They'll stare at you if you're not a bleeding heart on the sleeve of a cult uniform like maligned animals. In so many ways a rigid morality, I'm not playing in traffic, there's just a need to meet sleep requirements and my clothes have to match or I'll hold the planet hostage or something? #thisisfine

in other news, i've started a string of tumblr's that serve absolutely no purpose, maybe like the way people collect things, this is more in the hobby range and prolly can be stopped and won't get started, not the specific-obsession gym thing, which is really a common thing, people do that, i do that, maybe i'm normal and i just have no integrity, it's a special thing to go workout and swim in my thoughts, uncountable, incomparable, something in it's own egocentric right, lemme slap these here brb

mmjjbbaannkkss.tumblr.com ethos, speakvulcantome.tumblr.com logos, speakeasyklingon.tumblr.com speaklingontome was taken, speakromulantome.tumblr.com pathos, speakbajorantome.tumblr.com spiritual resistance, speakkardasitome.tumblr.com political, speakferengitome.tumblr.com parody, speakterrantome.tumblr.com translations into the other languages on this list, speakborgtome.tumblr.com tech, speakirathienttome.tumblr.com outdoors, speakcastithantome.tumblr.com archaic, speakkryptoniantome.tumblr.com super motivational, speakvalyriantome.tumblr.com, speakdothrakitome.tumblr.com, speakquenyatome.tumblr.com, speaksindarintome.tumblr.com, speaknavitome.tumblr.com

my real worry about tumblr is that i'm going to reblog some horrible shit that i follow into the timeline, if you see a language you know, taking about 4 months for me to learn the basics of a new language other than tells, so a klingon poem in april?, it might be years before i get to the end of the list, yes, it's easy to waste time on the internet, now you know, i didn't even know some of them were accessible languages, an epic timesuck yes, it could take forever and prolly will. I'll post a link to those in another update should there be one.

Everything is copyright the moment you create, so that's the root of this post. The crazy goal is to have books, something of value from this keyboard fantasy, a take-away, stuff maybe. The expectation being that different languages do different things and when the extraterrestrials get here they say - hey, why don't you speak english, the tv we got was english and we learned that - LOL, i'm going to the gym.

I only speak Terran languages, I just learned English by accident.


Sochya heh dif. Peace and long life.







/

Yuk-Tor, (Vulcan 1)

kuvor-tor skek-nash-veh 

nam-tor wehk-figlazhau yel 

tvai ugelik wilat au

boshau dular div svi'run 

sagana vah tular ka'a stukhtra-veh

nam-tor tehnesaya maut-zungor

rik katra-ha'gelet

bek-tor yuk wilat