Posts Tagged ‘abstract’

Falele

• Monday, September 6th, 2010

Glyph of the word 'falele'.

falele

  • (n.) forest
  • (adj.) green
  • (v.) to be green
  • (n.) greenness
  • (n.) foliage, greenery

U ala ie falele.
“Then we arrive at the forest.”

Notes: So I have a funny story about this word. For the Second Inverse Relay, Arthaey Angosii (creator of Asha’illewas using Kamakawi.

Oh, wait, let me back up. In an inverse relay, participant A translates a text into participant B’s language, then sends it to participant B. Participant B decodes the message, and translates it into participant C’s language, then passing it on to C, and so on. So everyone is using someone else’s language. It’s a lot of fun!

Okay, back to the matter at hand. Arthaey translated what should have been a very simple sentence—the one you see above. When translating it for myself, though, I looked at falele and thought, for some reason, that it just meant “grass”. It, of course, does not. I racked my brain trying to figure out what the heck “We then arrive at the grass” meant, finally assuming that she meant “grass plains”. In my version, then, I translated it into something like “grass plains” (in Sylvia Sotomayor’s Kēlen, which was the language I was using) and passed it on.

Of course, she actually meant “forest”, which seems reasonable, since that’s what falele actually means! What a hoot. There I was, flummoxed by a word that I myself had created—and one that I should know right off the top of my head. That one deserves to go in the conlang blooper reel.

The word for “green” was a later addition to the Kamakawi color system, which is why it was derived from the word for “forest” or “foliage”. Hmm… Foliage sounds good to my right now. Leafiness. I wonder where it is to be had here in Southern California…


Kavaka

• Thursday, September 2nd, 2010

Glyph of the word 'kavaka'.

kavaka

  • (v.) to write
  • (n.) writing
  • (n.) a piece of writing (of some kind)
  • (adj.) writing

A kavaka ie hala’i o ei.
“Writing is my life.”

Notes: Yesterday’s post forced me to gloss over the fact that it was Sylvia Sotomayor’s birthday. Happy belated birthday, Sylvia! :D

Sylvia is the woman behind the Kēlen Word of the Day: The blog that started the whole conlang word of the day thing (though I take credit for suggesting the idea to Sylvia in the first place :P ). It’s been a lot of fun learning about Kēlen over the past…wow, almost a year! But there’s a special reason to tune into Sylvia’s blog now.

You see, yesterday Sylvia arrived in Australia to attend WorldCon: a large convention of science-fiction and other things I’ve recently been made aware of. On the Kēlen Word of the Day blog, Sylvia will be keeping track of her progress, posting a word a day, per usual, but also including a picture from Australia, and some details about her travels. As one who hates to travel, this is top notch for me: I get to see Australia, and I don’t have to leave the house! :D

So check it out! It should be a fun month to hear about how things are going down under.

Oh, duh, I almost forgot! The sample sentence was done in honor of Sylvia. See, it’s a sentence without verbs, in honor of Kēlen, the verbless language! :D There was a method to this madness, I swear!

As for this word, it certainly does look like it was derived from kava, the word for “fire”, but you want to know the real secret? The word for “write” comes from Franz Kafka: One of my favorite authors. If you were to render “Kafka” in Kamakawi, it would come out “Kavaka”.

Of course, Franz Kafka doesn’t exist in the world where Kamakawi is spoken, but that’s just fine by me. After all, it’s a legitimate word form. And the derivation (fake or otherwise) is one I love. In fact, I love everything about this word. I’m going to give it a smiley face of some kind. :) There we go.


Imali

• Wednesday, September 1st, 2010

Glyph of the word 'imali'.

imali

  • (adj.) curious
  • (v.) to be curious
  • (n.) curiosity

He ma’a ti imali.
“Wisdom begins in wonder.”

Notes: The phrase is Socrates’, but it doubles as the first text on David Bell’s website. Since I was asked to post about it here, I’m pleased to announce that I’ve awarded the 2010 Smiley Award to David Bell’s ámman îar.

Sadly, David Bell is no longer with us. He died a few years ago, though we only learned about it within the last week. His language ámman îar is one of the best artlangs I’ve seen anywhere on the internet, and it saddened me greatly to see his site (graywizard.net) go offline a couple years back. To try to preserve his work, I’ve reconstructed his website and put it back up at graywizard.conlang.org. If you have a minute, I recommend you go check out his reference grammar for ámman îar. Though incomplete, it’s still one of the best conlang descriptions that exists on the web.

Though he can’t be here to read it, congratulations to David! His language was a true achievement, and I’m going to try my best to make sure it’s not forgotten.


Okuku

• Monday, August 30th, 2010

Glyph of the word 'okuku'.

okuku

  • (pron.) nothing

Iko i okuku i ia!
“There’s nothing here for you!”

Notes: Today is Doug Ball’s birthday, and so I themed today’s entry after what I’m getting him: Nothing! :D

Just kidding (well, not about the nothing, but about the intent behind it). Today, though, I’d like to wish Doug a very happy birthday. Happy birthday, Doug! :D

Doug (currently a professor of linguistics at Truman State) is the inventor of the Skerre language, and is one of the best conlangers I know. We knew each other in our undergraduate days from the Conlang List, and met each other by chance as prospective linguistics graduate students at UCSD. As it turned out, I ended up going to UCSD, and he ended up going to evil (boo, hiss!) Stanfurd. Despite that mistake, we’ve remained friends over the years, and have kept up an e-correspondence in which we talk about our main passions: conlanging, music and sports.

Being able to bounce ideas off Doug has helped to improve my conlanging probably more than anything else. He’s helped me with Kamakawi over the years, and also my more experimental endeavors (often I end up asking him what exactly I can get away with, positing odd diachronic explanations on the fly [I still think /k/ > [h] / C[+nasal]_ makes sense somehow!]). His is a friendship I prize very highly, and today is a special day: He’s turning 30!

So, tikili i ia Doug on thirty grand years, and here’s to thirty more! :mrgreen:


Kupiki

• Sunday, August 29th, 2010

Glyph of the word 'kupiki'.

kupiki

  • (v.) to wait
  • (adj.) waiting
  • (n.) waiting

Kupiki ei ae panakatá fiti…
“I’m waiting in my cold cell…”

Notes: Yesterday’s song may be the song that epitomizes Iron Maiden, but this song, I think, is their best work ever. Here it is, my number 1 Iron Maiden song:

Number 1
“Hallowed Be Thy Name”

Iron Maiden's single for 'Hallowed Be Thy Name'

The Number of the Beast (1982)

“Hallowed Be Thy Name” is a well-constructed, and well-executed short story in song form. It’s a story about a guy who’s being executed (hanged) for some crime (or crimes). The content of the song is the condemned man’s internal monologue as he reflects upon his life and his predicament. As his final moments draw nearer, the tempo of the music increases, to match his level of desperation. At its height, the prisoner is hanged, and Bruce Dickinson wails out his final words, “Hallowed be thy name.”

In addition to being a well-written song, it’s an excellent performance piece, with the character of the music matching the mood and theme of the lyrical content. It’s something bordering on the theatric, but in a metal—almost operatic—way. It’s about more than just the music: It’s about the experience—about capturing it and communicating it to an audience through music. That, in effect, is what metal’s all about, and this is one of the best metal songs ever written.

There you have it! Thanks for indulging me. I’ve been meaning to write up my top ten Iron Maiden songs somewhere somehow for quite awhile. The Kamakawi Word of the Day is a strange venue for such a thing, but it’s done now: It can’t be undone! Hooray! :D

You may notice that today’s word has been derived from kupi, which means “to sit”. Just hearing it, one might think it was the applicative form of kupi, but not so. The applicative would be more to say something like, “I sit the chair”, meaning “I sit on the chair”, but where “chair” becomes the direct object. This is a metaphorical extension of “sit”. The word focuses on the action one undertakes while waiting for someone—and sitting seems more likely than anything else. So “I sat because of you” would be an overliteral translation of Ka kupiki ei ti ia.

Thanks again for sitting through my top ten favorite Iron Maiden songs! I’m glad they made it up somewhere.

(By the way, the new album is good, but had no single song good enough to knock any of these out of the top ten.)


Ata

• Saturday, August 28th, 2010

Glyph of the word 'ata'.

ata

  • (v.) to be dry
  • (adj.) dry
  • (n.) dryness

Hena kepo o ei a ata hoya o ei…
“My body’s numb and my throat is dry…”

Notes: Here it is: Probably the most popular song ever written about the Crimean War, coming in at number 2…

Number 2
“The Trooper”

Iron Maiden's single for 'The Trooper'

Piece of Mind (1983)

“The Trooper” is an Iron Maiden classic: Dueling guitars, their characteristic “galloping” rhythm, a song about an obscure historical event also loosely based on a famous British poem… If one were to ask for a single song that epitomizes Iron Maiden, this is that song.

The lyrics draw inspiration from Alfred Lord Tennyson’s “The Charge of the Light Brigade”. Bruce Dickinson will sometimes read portions of the poem before performing the song live (the part with the lines “Cannon to right of them / Cannon to left of them”). I think it also showcases their somewhat tangled relationship with war. Iron Maiden have a lot of songs about war (especially about famous historical battles), but, at the same time, they reject it (cf. “These Colours Don’t Run”, for example). During their songs, though, they revel in the content.

“The Trooper” is a good example. I was fortunate enough to see Iron Maiden live in San Diego, and, of course, they played “The Trooper” (I don’t think they can play a live show without playing it). At the beginning of the performance, Bruce Dickinson picks up this gigantic Union Jack flag and races to either side of the stage waving, and everyone cheers—including me—even though none of us are English. Furthermore, this song is about an English soldier who charges forth in the Battle of Balaclava and is killed. It’s a high-energy number, and sounds quite menacing, but what is being reported is an ultimately meaningless death and a folly (echoed in the lines “The bugle sounds; the charge begins / But on this battlefield no one winds”).

But to get into the spirit of the song is kind of like wearing a costume on Halloween. One adopts the attitude of the courageous soldier plunging on into certain death for a little while just to try it out. The goal, I think, is to try to imagine what it must have been like. It’s not glorifying a tragedy, but is an attempt at musical empathy. I think it’s quite effective.

Funny Kamakawi aside. I can never—ever—remember the right genitive pronoun to use; I have to look it up every single time. You’d think I’d eventually get it—or at least remember one of them consistently—but no: I just keep forgetting. I knew that bodies are inalienably possessed, and that that meant they took a particular genitive marker, but I couldn’t remember which one it was, even though it was the easiest (o). So it goes…

[Update: This is the funniest and most appalling thing I've seen in quite some time: A gentleman playing Iron Maiden's "The Trooper" by making farting noises with his hands. He calls himself a "manualist". It must be seen—and heard—to be believed.]


Umeke

• Friday, August 27th, 2010

Glyph of the word 'umeke'.

umeke

  • (v.) to twist (something)
  • (adj.) twisted

Ea. Umeke ei i ika tou.
“Yeah. I can twist.”

Notes: HAPPY CATURDAY! :D

I came across my cat in such an incredible position the other day that I just had to take a picture of it:

Keli all twisted up.

Check that out! Her forepaws are faced one way, and her hindpaws are faced the other! Just to make sure this is clear, I’ve superimposed an arrow showing just how she’s contorted:

Keli all twisted up--with an arrow!

Look at that! Cats are something else.

So words like “turn” and “twist” are words that really trouble me. I was hoping (I always do) that I’d already created a word for “twist” in Kamakawi, but when I went to check, I hadn’t. I decided to derive it from “turn”, which…might work. Seems plausible, anyway. Personally, I think we could do without the concepts entirely. If it weren’t for fantastic creatures like cats, I bet we wouldn’t even need them.

And yet, cats be… They be all over the place. They be hugely. They keep being all over our rugs, being on our couches, and being on our keyboards. I guess there’s nothing for it. Let the twisting continue!


Ale Ko

• Tuesday, August 24th, 2010

Glyph of the word 'ale...ko'.

ale…ko

  • (v.) to come, to arrive

Ale ei ko ele male li i ia…
“I’m coming to get you…”

Notes: Technically, this is a rock song, but, man, it cooks!

Number 5
“Wrathchild”

Iron Maiden's album Killers

Killers (1981)

Taken literally, this song is just about a guy searching for his father whom he doesn’t know. It sounds quite menacing, though; it’s got an edge. It’s also got that classic Iron Maiden sound, which starts with Steve Harris’s bass. Steve Harris is the main songwriter for Maiden (unusual for a bass player), and a byproduct of that is that many of Iron Maiden’s best songs have an incredible bass line. This song features one of Harris’s best. Add that to Paul Di’Anno’s best vocal performance (in my opinion), an incredibly catchy bridge, and killer guitar, and you have one of the best song’s Iron Maiden’s ever put together.

This is the second word of the day featuring ale, even though I haven’t done ale on its own yet. I almost did it today, but it just wouldn’t be right; the lexeme really is ale…ko. Some day…


Ti’a

• Monday, August 23rd, 2010

Glyph of the word 'ti’a'.

ti’a

  • (n.) time
  • (v.) to take time, to last

Male ale ti’a li’ia ko!
“Your time will come!”

Notes: What a triumphant return this was! This is the refrain from a true classic:

Number 6
“The Wicker Man”

Iron Maiden's single for 'The Wicker Man'

Brave New World (2000)

Wow. Now the release of this song was an event.

To give you some background, the first Iron Maiden album I bought was The X Factor, which came out in 1995. This was the first album with their third studio lead singer Blaze Bayley. Being a fan of metal, I had heard of Iron Maiden, and heard they were great, so I picked up this album and tried it out.

It was terrible.

The first song, “The Sign of the Cross”, had promise, but thereafter, the off-key caterwauling of Bayley and the uninspired song writing left me cold. I immediately wrote Iron Maiden off as a band that had aged and was no longer any good (and, perhaps, was never any good). It wasn’t until, by chance, I heard “Run to the Hills” on a metal show on a local radio station that I decided to give them another chance. I proceeded to get their earlier albums, and the rest was history.

The discovery that Iron Maiden was one of the best metal bands in history, however, made me sad, more than anything else, because I thought, “Wow. This band was so good, and I missed them!” Bruce Dickinson was gone, and the band was…well, writing songs like “Fortunes of War” (or “Como Estais Amigos”, for that matter).

Then came the year 2000. On the radio, I heard an advertisement for Iron Maiden playing a concert, which struck me as odd (why would a non-metal radio station be advertising a concert of a band that had lost its way so irrevocably?), until they played a brief snippet of the chorus of “The Wicker Man”: “Your time will come!”

That was Bruce Dickinson; it was unmistakable. But is this some song I hadn’t heard before—some B-side? I thought. Unlikely. But does that mean that—! And, sure enough, it was true: Bruce Dickinson was back. And…wow.

It wasn’t like a return to form. It was much more than that. “The Wicker Man” opens with a single guitar playing some riffs that sound faded, distant; a little unimpressive. And then at the end of the measure a second guitar comes in loud and forceful, and there’s no looking back from there. This song grabs you by the throat and reminds you why you listen to metal, and why it’s good to be alive. And the best thing is that the rest of the album is fantastic. Iron Maiden didn’t reunite to get more money, or to produce some songs that sounded like the old ones, but to take the band to new heights undreamt of prior. This wasn’t a new Iron Maiden album, but a new classic. After a terrible hiatus, they came back and produced some of the best songs they’ve ever recorded, and this is the best of the bunch.

And, just to further illustrate how everything’s coming on back, I got the chance to see Iron Maiden (with Bruce Dickinson) a few years back in San Diego. Now I just need to see David Bowie and I’ll be set!

The iku for ti’a is very close to the original iku for ha; there’s just an added line. You can kind of see the ti in there, but its presence is barely noticeable. The result, though, is pretty cool, I think.

I’ve always been uncomfortable coining words for “time” in conlangs. They demand a lot of attention; a lot of thought. I think that’s why this word’s definition hasn’t been elaborated very much. The word should bespeak a system, or at least bring a long with it a host of other words. These words will help to shape the culture in important ways. Words for time, and related concepts, can’t be coined lightly. I think it’s for that reason that I always leave them until last, and spend so much time avoiding them. (For example, I haven’t even touched time in Dothraki.) Some day I’ll work it all out.


Olomo

• Saturday, August 21st, 2010

Glyph of the word 'olomo'.

olomo

  • (v.) to walk
  • (n.) walker
  • (n.) walk
  • (adj.) walking

Olomo iu paleumi…
“Walking through the city…”

Notes: A decidedly bizarre song, but still one of Iron Maiden’s best. Here at number 8 we have…

Number 8
“Prowler”

Iron Maiden's album Iron Maiden

Iron Maiden (1980)

So if you click that link and listen to this song, you might find yourself thinking, “Is this song about a…flasher?” If so, you would be right. It is, indeed, a song about a creepy flasher. It doesn’t seem like a very metal subject for a song, yet the song itself is a short, simple sonic attack. This is the first song on Iron Maiden’s first album, and it effectively announces them to the world.

Also, I should make it clear that when I select this song at number eight, it’s the song I’m selecting, not necessarily the performance I linked to up there. Iron Maiden’s first two albums featured their original lead singer, Paul Di’Anno, and while he’s…good, he’s no Bruce Dickinson. In 1988, Iron Maiden rerecorded the song “Prowler” with Bruce Dickinson on vocals to serve as a B-side for their single “The Evil That Men Do”, calling it “Prowler ’88″. That’s actually the first version of the song I heard, and it is incredible. They capture that hollow, street-side feel, and Bruce Dickinson’s vocals are a fivefold improvement over the original.

Speaking of the lyrics and this word, I’m not quite sure what the subject of the first line is supposed to be. The lyrics go “Walking through the city / Looking oh so pretty / I just got to find my way”. I think from context, one can assume that the subject must be some woman, but upon listening to it, I always assumed it referred to the narrator. I’ve left it without a pronoun in the Kamakawi translation, but the sentence looks naked… Perhaps that was their intent. (That is, back in 1980 they foresaw my birth and the creation of Kamakawi, and they crafted these lyrics to make their Kamakawi translation suggestive.)

The iku for olomo is the little man you see in words like hopoko with the “ground” determinative beneath him (it’s like he’s walking! :D ). I think it’s a nice word for “walk” (extended, it kind of rolls along).

Speaking of conlanging, on the Conlang List we were recently talking about (for the second time in nine years!) path and manner language (or satellite-framed and verb-framed languages). Most languages feature a bit of both, but you can basically categorize natural languages as one or the other. English, for example, is a satellite-framed language. In English, you can say things like the following:

  • I walked into the room.
  • I slumped into the room.
  • I trudged into the room.
  • I tripped into the room.
  • I fell into the room.
  • I ran into the room.

And so forth. You can do pretty much anything you want, and the thing that indicates that one entered the room is the preposition “into”. That is, it’s a satellite element that indicates motion from one thing to another, and the verb indicates the manner (how it was done). You can also do it the other way (e.g. “I entered the run running”), but it’s less English-like to do so. In Spanish, on the other hand, that’s the only way you can do it (for the most part). In Spanish, the motion must be indicated on the verb, and the manner is indicated with a gerund (if at all).

One might wonder, then, what type of a language is Kamakawi? Turns out, it’s both. However, unlike Esperanto, which is kind of a train wreck, there’s an explanation for why Kamakawi is the way it is—and this example sentence is a nice illustration.

In Kamakawi, all prepositions (save one) were originally verbs. In addition, all verbs were originally intransitive. The transitive construction one sees today is a result of a serial verb construction. So in old Kamakawi there would be something like this:

Ka hava ei ka i kolata.
/PAST eat 1SG PAST exist pineapple/
“I ate and it was the pineapple (that I ate).”

In the past, there was a kind of implicature that strung transitive clauses together (and it’s what led to the development of the subject status markers), and that led to the development of transitive verbs with the former verb i becoming an object marker. That reanalysis stopped at the level of the transitive verb, though, so the serial construction persists in ditransitive clauses.

Now let’s jump to the creation of prepositions. Originally, prepositions were simply verbs—and they still are, in fact (Ae ei ie pale, “I’m in the house”, where ae is a verb meaning “to be inside”). This meant that old Kamakawi was a verb-framed language, e.g.:

A iu ei a i puka.
/PRES go.through 1SG PRES exist door/
“I go through and it is the door (that I go through).”

Of course, you could also have what, I think, are rather standard serial constructions like the following:

A olomo ei a iu ei a i puka.
/PRES walk 1SG PRES go.through 1SG PRES exist door/
“I walk and I go through and it is the door (that I go through).”

With the development of the subject status system (and the solidification of i as an object marker), though, that could be simplified as follows:

A olomo ei e iu i puka.
/NEW.SBJ walk 1SG SAME.SBJ go.through OBJ door/
“I walk and go through the door.”

We’ll call this Middle Kamakawi. Then, though, the same reanalysis that applied to the existential verb i applied to the other locational verbs, and you get the modern phrasing:

A olomo ei iu ie puka.
/NEW.SBJ walk 1SG go.through OBJ.DEF door/
“I go through the door.”

Thus, Kamakawi adopted a satellite-framed system while retaining its initial verb-framed system, and the two coexist quite happily.

Well, that turned into a nice little mini-historical overview! Fun. Up next, one of my favorite Iron Maiden songs (just like the previous three, and the six that follow tomorrow’s).


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