E-Primitive Sand Box

Regenerative Culture Language & Oral Tradition
#81

Quote from: Women Who Run With Wolves
She creeps and crawls and sifts through the montanas, mountains, and arroyos, dry river beds, looking for wolfs bones, and when she has assembled an entire skeleton, when she has placed the last bone and sees the beautiful white sculpture of the creature laid out before her, she sits by the fire and thinks about what song she will sing.
And when she feels sure, she stands over the criatura, raises her arms over it, and sings out. At that time, the rib bones and the leg bones of the wolf begin to flesh out and the creature becomes furred. La Loba sings some more, and more of the creature comes into existence; its tail curls upward, shaggy and strong.
And La Loba sings more, and the wolf creature begins to breathe.
And still La Loba sings so deeply that the floor of the desert shakes, and as she sings, the wolf opens its eyes, leaps up, and runs away down the canyon.
Somewhere in its running, whether by the speed of its running or by splashing its way into a river, or by way of a ray of sunlight or moonlight hitting it right in the side, the wolf suddenly transforms into a laughing woman who runs free toward the horizon.
So remember, if you wander the desert, and sundown draws near, and you feel perhaps a little bit lost, and certainly tired, than you have good luck, for La Loba may take a liking to you and show you something - something of the soul.

"Oh, gracious!" cried Dorothy, "are you a real witch?"

“Yes, indeed;” answered the little woman. “But I am a good witch, and the people love me. I am not as powerful as the wicked witch was who ruled here, or i should have set the people free myself.”

“But i thought all witches were wicked,” said the girl, who was half frightened at facing a real witch.

"Oh, no; that is a great mistake. There were only four witches in all the Land of Oz, and two of them, those who live in the North and the South, are good witches. I know this is true, for I am one of them myself, and cannot be mistaken. Those who dwelt in the East and the West were, indeed, wicked witches, but now that you have killed one of them, there is but one wicked witch in all the Land of Oz - the one who lives in the West.

“But,” said Dorothy after a moments thought, “Aunt Em has told me that the witches were all dead - years and years ago.”

“Who is Aunt Em?” asked the little old woman.

“She is my aunt who lives in Kansas, where I come from.”

The Witch of the North seemed to think for a time, with her head bowed and her eyes upon the ground. Then she looked up and said, "I do not know where Kansas is, for i have never heard that country mentioned before. But tell me, is it a civilzed country?’

“Oh, yes,” replied Dorothy.

“Then that accounts for it. In the civilized countries I believe there are no witches left; nor wizards, nor sorceresses, nor magicians. But you see, the Land of Oz has never been civilized, for we are cut off from all the rest of the world. Therefore we still have witches and wizards amongst us

.”
#82

Do I have to play with myself to get any attention around here?!

Quote from: The Wizard of Oz
“Oh, gracious!” cried Dorothy, “Do you really practice witchcraft?”

“Yes, indeed;” answered the little woman. “But I practice good witchcraft, and the people love me. I don’t have as much power as the wicked witch who ruled here, or I should have set the people free myself.”

“But I thought only wicked people practiced witchcraft,” said the girl, who felt half frightened at facing a real witch.

"Oh, no; you’ve made a great mistake. You could find only four witches in all the Land of Oz, and two of them, those who live in the North and the South, practice good witchcraft. I know I speak truth, for I consider myself one of them, so I cannot make a mistake. Those who dwelt in the East and the West did, indeed, practice wicked witchcraft, but now that you have killed one of them, you can find but one wicked witch in all the Land of Oz - the one who lives in the West.

“But,” said Dorothy after a moments thought, “Aunt Em has told me that the witches all died - years and years ago.”

“tell me about Aunt Em.” said the little old woman.

“She lives with me in Kansas, where I come from.”

The Witch of the North seemed to think for a time, with her head bowed and her eyes upon the ground. Then she looked up and said, "I do not know where Kansas lies, for I have never heard that country mentioned before. But tell me, would you consider it a civilized country?’

“Oh, yes,” replied Dorothy.

“Then that accounts for it. In the civilized countries I believe you can find no witches left; nor wizards, nor sorceresses, nor magicians. But you see, the Land of Oz has never experienced civilization, for we have cut ourselves off from all the rest of the world. Therefore we still have witches and wizards amongst us.”

Before he'd married Mary Lynn, Jeremiah had always believed there was too much talk of race, that white people were all too willing to be racist and that brown people were just as willing and just as racist. As a rational scientist, he'd known that race was primarily a social construct, illusionary, but as the husband of an Indian woman and the father of Indian children, he'd since learned that race, whatever its construction, was real. Now there were plenty of white people who wanted to eliminate the idea of race, to cast it aside as an unwanted invention, but it was far too late for that. If white people are the mad scientists who created race, thought Jeremiah, then we created race so we could enslave black people and kill Indians, and now race has become the Frankenstein monster that has grown beyond our control. Though he'd once been willfully blind, Jeremiah had learned to recognize that monster in the faces of whites and Indians and in there eyes.
#83
Before he'd married Mary Lynn, Jeremiah had always believed people spoke too much of race, that white people felt all too willing to speak their racism and that brown people felt just as willing and just as racist. As a rational scientist, he'd known that race worked primarily a social construct, illusionary, but as the husband of an Indian woman and the father of Indian children, he'd since learned that race, whatever its construction, had an over-whealming presence. Now, plenty of white people want to eliminate the idea of race, to cast it aside as an unwanted invention, but it seemed far too late for that. If white, mad scientists did not create race, thought Jeremiah, then we created race so we could enslave black people and kill Indians, and now race has become the Frankenstein monster that has grown beyond our control. Though he'd once felt willfully blind, Jeremiah had learned to recognize that monster in the faces of whites and Indians and in there eyes.

Can you retain the hilarity in this sketch… in e-prime???

Abbott: Who is on first!

Costello: I’m asking YOU who’s on first.

Abbott: That’s the man’s name.

Costello: That’s who’s name?

Abbott: Yes.

Costello: Well go ahead and tell me.

Abbott: That’s it.

Costello: That’s who?

Abbott: Yes.

#84

Abbott: Who stands on first!

Costello: I want to ask YOU who stands on first.

Abbott: No, we call him that!

Costello: Call who that?

Abbott: Yes.

Costello: Well go ahead and tell me.

Abbott: I just said; Who!

Costello: Who?

Abbott: Yes.

The people in this book might be going to have lived a long, long time from now in Northern California...

The difficulty of translation from a language that doesn’t yet exist is considerable, but there’s no need to exaggerate it. The past after all, can be quite as obscure as the future. The ancient Chinese book called Tao Teh Ching has been translated into English dozens of times, and indeed, the Chinese have to keep retranslating it into Chinese at every cycle of Cathay, but no translation can give us the book that Lao Tze (who may not have existed) wrote. All we have is the Tao Teh Ching that is here, now. And so with translations from the (or a) future. The fact that it hasn’t yet been written, the mere absence of a text to translate, doesn’t make all that much difference. What was and what may be lie, like children whose faces we cannot see, in the arms of silence. All we ever have is here, now.

#85

[Quote=Ursula K. leGuin]
The people in this book may have lived a long, long time from now in Northern California…

The difficulty of translation from a language that doesn’t yet exist feels considerable, but I see no need to exaggerate ki. The past after all, can appear quite as obscure as the future. Many people have translated the ancient Chinese book called Tao Teh Ching into English dozens of times, and indeed, the Chinese have to keep retranslating ki into Chinese at every cycle of Cathay, but no translation can give us the book that Lao Tze (who may not have existed) wrote. We can only see the Tao Teh Ching that we have here, now. And so with translations from the (or a) future. The fact that no one has yet written ki, the mere absence of a text to translate, doesn’t make all that much difference. What we have seen and what we may still see lie, like children whose faces we cannot see, in the arms of silence. All we ever have we can see here, now.[/quote]

What the fuck. That feels like the most difficult gibberish-is-sentence I have read in a long time. No wonder no one has jumped on this challenge. nice work starfish!

Okay, now I’ll go for something a little easier… Feel free to use the gender neutral pronoun “ki”?

Tom Brown Jr. is a renowned outdoorsman, tracker, teacher, and author of 16 books. He was born Jan 29, 1950 in South Tom's River, NJ. Starting when he was only seven Tom was taught by Stalking Wolf (Grandfather), an Apache elder, shaman, and scout. For ten years Tom was mentored in the skills of tracking, wilderness survival, and awareness. After Stalking Wolf's death when Brown was 17, Tom spent the next ten years living in the wilderness throughout the United States with no manufactured tools - in most instances not even a knife - perfecting these skills and teachings. Brown came back to" civilization" looking for people interested in all he had learned. He felt lost and confused until a local sheriff who knew Tom called him in to track a lost person. Tom found the missing person and in the process, found his path in life.
#86

Why thank you, Urban Scout :slight_smile:

Quote from: Tom Brown Jr. Bio
Tom Brown Jr. has earned great renown for kis skills in outdoor living, tracking, teaching, and writing 16 books. On a cold January day in the middle of the New Jersey winter of 1950, Tom emerged, red faced and wailing, from kis mother’s womb. When Tom had lived seven years, Stalking Wolf (Grandfather), an Apache elder, shaman, and scout took Tom under kis wing. For ten years they learned together. Stalking Wolf mentored Tom in the skills of tracking, wilderness survival, and awareness until kis death in 1967. Tom spent the next ten years living in the wilderness throughout the United States with no manufactured tools - in most instances not even a knife - perfecting these skills and teachings. Brown came back to" civilization" looking for people interested in all ki had learned. Ki felt lost and confused until a local sheriff who knew Tom called ki in to track a lost person. Tom found the missing person and in the process, found kis path in life.

This book drove me crazy last night with all kis “to be’s”. See what you all can do with ki.

Franklin was a son, a grandson, and a nephew. But he was not a brother. Franklin often thought about being a big brother, and he wondered what it would be like to have a baby in the family. Franklin was going to find out soon, because his best friend, Bear, was about to become a big brother....

The next day at school, Bear was still talking about the baby.

“I get to stay at Franklin’s when the baby is ready to be born,” he told Snail.

“A sleepover!” Snail cried. “I wish my mom were having a baby.”

“Me too,” said Franklin. “When you’re a big brother, you’ve got someone to play with all the time.”

…“Hooray!” cried Franklin and Bear. “The baby is coming!”

Franklin’s mother asked Bear what he would like for supper. Bear could hardly believe his good luck.

“I’m going to be a big brother. I’m sleeping over at my best friend’s house. And I’m having pancakes with blueberries!”

Franklin was happy too, but he couldn’t help feeling a little jealous.

“Gee,” he said, “lots of good things happen when you’re a big brother.”

… They tried to fall asleep, but they were still awake when Franklin’s parents came in to tell them the big news.

“Bear, you have a brand new baby sister!” anounced Franklin’s mother.

“Wow! Now you really are a big brother,” said Franklin.

"Bear looked as if he would burst with pride. “This is my best day ever!” he said.

A few days later Franklin walked over to Bear’s house. He found Bear sitting on the front steps.

“Why aren’t you playing with your little sister?” asked Franklin.

“She’s too little and she sleeps all the time,” sighed Bear. “Being a big brother isn’t as much fun as I thought it would be.”

edit: Oops, I forgot to use ki

#87

Franklin had parents, grandparents, and aunts and uncles. But ki did not have a brother or sister. Franklin often thought about having a younger sibling, and ki wondered how it would feel to have a baby in the family. Franklin knew ki would find out soon, because kis best friend, Bear, would soon have a little baby brother or sister…

The next day at school, Bear talked about the baby.

“I get to stay at Franklin’s when the baby begins to arrive,” ki told Snail.

“A sleepover!” Snail cried. “I wish my mom expected a baby.”

“Me too,” said Franklin. “Big brothers have someone to play with all the time.”

…“Hooray!” cried Franklin and Bear. “The baby will arrive soon!”

Franklin’s mother asked Bear what ki would like for supper. Bear could hardly believe kis good luck.

“I’ll soon have a little baby brother or sister. I get to sleep over at my best friend’s house. And I’ll eat pancakes with blueberries!”

Franklin shared Bear’s happiness, but ki couldn’t help feeling a little jealous.

“Gee,” ki said, “lots of good things happen to big brothers.”

… They tried to fall asleep, but they remained awake until Franklin’s parents came in to tell them the big news.

“Bear, you have a brand new baby sister!” announced Franklin’s mother.

“Wow! Now you really can call yourself a big brother,” said Franklin.

Bear looked as if ki would burst with pride. “This feels like the best day ever!” ki said.

A few days later Franklin walked over to Bear’s house. Ki found Bear sitting on the front steps.

“Why don’t you play with your little sister?” asked Franklin.

“Ki needs to grow bigger before I can play with ki, and ki sleeps all the time,” sighed Bear. “Big brothers don’t have as much fun as I thought.”

I felt weird using “ki” while keeping words like “aunt” “uncle” “brother” “sister” etc. I don’t know any gender-neutral word for “aunts and uncles,” and using “sibling” over and over feels so formal to me… ack…

New challenge:

It was a queer, sultry summer, the summer they electrocuted the Rosenbergs, and I didn't know what I was doing in New York. I'm stupid about executions. The idea of being electrocuted makes me sick, and that's all there was to read about in the papers--goggle-eyed headlines staring up at me on every street corner and at the fusty, peanut-smelling mouth of every subway. It had nothing to do with me, but I couldn't help wondering what it would be like, being burned alive all along your nerves.

I thought it must be the worst thing in the world.

New York was bad enough. By nine in the morning the fake, country-wet freshness that somehow seeped in overnight evaporated like the tail end of a sweet dream. Mirage-grey at the bottom of their granite canyons, the hot streets wavered in the sun, the car tops sizzled and glittered, and the dry, cindery dust blew into my eyes and down my throat.

I kept hearing about the Rosenbergs over the radio and at the office till I couldn’t get them out of my mind. It was like the first time I saw a cadaver. For weeks afterward, the cadaver’s head–or what there was left of it–floated up behind my eggs and bacon at breakfast and behind the face of Buddy Willard, who was responsible for my seeing it in the first place, and pretty soon I felt as though I were carrying that cadaver’s head around with me on a string, like some black, noseless balloon stinking of vinegar.

#88

E-priming that shit:

It felt like a queer, sultry summer, the summer they electrocuted the Rosenbergs, and I didn't know why I had come to do in New York. I stupidly execution things. The idea of being electrocuted makes me sick, and and I couldn't find anything else to read about in the papers--goggle-eyed headlines staring up at me on every street corner and at the fusty, peanut-smelling mouth of every subway. It had nothing to do with me, but I couldn't help wondering what it would feel like, burning alive all along your nerves.

I thought it must feel like the worst thing in the world.

New York felt bad enough. By nine in the morning the fake, country-wet freshness that somehow seeped in overnight evaporated like the tail end of a sweet dream. Mirage-grey at the bottom of their granite canyons, the hot streets wavered in the sun, the car tops sizzled and glittered, and the dry, cindery dust blew into my eyes and down my throat.

I kept hearing about the Rosenbergs over the radio and at the office till I couldn’t get them out of my mind. It reminded me of the first time I saw a cadaver. For weeks afterward, the cadaver’s head–or what I saw left of it–floated up behind my eggs and bacon at breakfast and behind the face of Buddy Willard, who took responsibility for my seeing it in the first place, and pretty soon I felt as though I carried that cadaver’s head around with me on a string, like some black, noseless balloon stinking of vinegar.

Wow. A little rusty, even though I still write in E-prime regularly. The translation of prose can feel excruciatingly difficult. Hm… Where should I draw from…

Rewilding is the process of creating permanently wild human cultures beyond domestication.[1] In green anarchism and anarcho-primitivism, humans are said to be "civilized" or "domesticated" by civilization. Supporters of such human rewilding argue that through the process of domestication, human wildness has been altered by force, resulting in a tame humanity suffering disease and PTSD.[2] Rewilding, then, is about overcoming human domestication and returning to non-fear-based behavior and ways of perceiving and interacting with the world that are inherent in human wildness. Though often associated with primitive skills and learning knowledge of wild plants and animals, it emphasizes the development of the five senses and of senses unknown to Western civilization, often collectively dubbed "nature awareness". Rewilding is more than just a number of skills and practices or a specific set of knowledge, it is a holistic approach to living.
#89

[quote=“Urban Scout, post:88, topic:255”]E-priming that shit:

[quote=“The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath”]
It felt like a queer, sultry summer, the summer they electrocuted the Rosenbergs, and I didn’t know why I had come to do in New York. I stupidly execution things. The idea of being electrocuted makes me sick, and and I couldn’t find anything else to read about in the papers–goggle-eyed headlines staring up at me on every street corner and at the fusty, peanut-smelling mouth of every subway. It had nothing to do with me, but I couldn’t help wondering what it would feel like, burning alive all along your nerves.

I thought it must feel like the worst thing in the world.

New York felt bad enough. By nine in the morning the fake, country-wet freshness that somehow seeped in overnight evaporated like the tail end of a sweet dream. Mirage-grey at the bottom of their granite canyons, the hot streets wavered in the sun, the car tops sizzled and glittered, and the dry, cindery dust blew into my eyes and down my throat.

I kept hearing about the Rosenbergs over the radio and at the office till I couldn’t get them out of my mind. It reminded me of the first time I saw a cadaver. For weeks afterward, the cadaver’s head–or what I saw left of it–floated up behind my eggs and bacon at breakfast and behind the face of Buddy Willard, who took responsibility for my seeing it in the first place, and pretty soon I felt as though I carried that cadaver’s head around with me on a string, like some black, noseless balloon stinking of vinegar.[/quote]

Wow. A little rusty, even though I still write in E-prime regularly. The translation of prose can feel excruciatingly difficult. Hm… Where should I draw from…

Here goes nothing:

Rewilding aims to create permanently wild human cultures beyond domestication.[1] In green anarchism and anarcho-primitivism, they say "civilization" and "domestication" have happened to humans. Supporters of such human rewilding argue that through the process of domestication, force altered human wildness, resulting in a tame humanity suffering disease and PTSD.[2] Rewilding, then, tries to overcome human domestication and return to non-fear-based behavior and ways of perceiving and interacting with the world inherent in human wildness. Though often associated with primitive skills and learning knowledge of wild plants and animals, it emphasizes the development of the five senses and of senses unknown to Western civilization, often collectively dubbed "nature awareness". Rewilding goes beyond skills, practices and a specific set of knowledge, it forms a holistic way of life.
#90

[quote=“vaguelyhumanoid, post:89, topic:255”][quote author=Urban Scout link=topic=260.msg15497#msg15497 date=1275447675]
E-priming that shit:

Here goes nothing:

Next challenge:

The concept of spectacle unifies and explains a great diversity of apparent phenomena. The diversity and the contrasts are appearances of a socially organized appearance, the general truth of which must itself be recognized. Considered in its own terms, the spectacle is affirmation of appearance and affirmation of all human life, namely social life, as mere appearance. But the critique which reaches the truth of the spectacle exposes it as the visible negation of life, as a negation of life which has become visible.
#91

OH MAN I FORGOT ABOUT THIS GAME!!! AWESOME!

The concept of spectacle unifies and explains a great diversity of apparent phenomena. The diversity and the contrasts are appearances of a socially organized appearance, the general truth of which must itself be recognized. Considered in its own terms, the spectacle is affirmation of appearance and affirmation of all human life, namely social life, as mere appearance. But the critique which reaches the truth of the spectacle exposes it as the visible negation of life, as a negation of life which has become visible.

My e-priming of it:

The concept of spectacle unifies and explains a great diversity of apparent phenomena. The diversity and the contrasts look like appearances of a socially organized appearance, the general truth of which must itself have recognition. Considered in its own terms, the spectacle appears as an affirmation of appearance and affirmation of all human life, namely social life, as mere appearance. But the critique which reaches the truth of the spectacle exposes it as the visible negation of life, as a negation of life which has become visible.

That was a weird one. I don’t even know if that was actually English. Okay next challenge:

1. Wrong Prince

Players’ coterie gets anonymous letter or email from unknown source. The message tells, that the Prince of the city is not who he claims to be. The Prince is a sham. The source warns that if the information about false Prince is leaked, the coterie will be in big trouble. They might not be taken seriously or what worse, the false Prince could hunt them down.

What is the real identity of this false Prince? Has he taken the place of the real Prince and is just a poseur. Is he enemy of the city’s sect or just power hungry strong individual? What does the false Prince want from the city?

#92

Urban Scout, I’m taking up your challenge of two years ago…

My E-primed edit:

  1. Wrong Prince

Players’ coterie gets anonymous letter or email from unknown source. The message tells that the Prince of the city conceals his true identity. The Prince misleads the public. The source warns that if the information about false Prince gets out, the coterie will struggle mightily. Others might not take the coterie seriously, or worse, the false Prince could hunt them down.

How does this false Prince identify himself in truth? Has he taken the place of the real Prince and just pretends to play the part? Does he intend to harm the city’s sect or does he just hunger for power? What does the false Prince want from the city?

My new challenge (from Martín Prechtel’s Disobedience of the Daughter of the Sun):

It was all finished and there he left her. Having completed what he’d promised himself, Hummingbird Man turned to leave, but half way, spun back around and addressed the Sun and Moon.

"I thought to bring your daughter back, the one you killed because you only wanted tall son-in-laws from the sky, because you didn’t want short, unknown, unseen beings; you wouldn’t let her love the small and make the world flower. She is now dismembered because of your jealousy and tribalist stupidities. The love all of us felt for her should have been sufficient to have kept her together. But it was not.

"So, here she is, the child of your thinking, dismembered, and in pieces, she will now agree to your every whim.

“This is your work.”

#93

All proved finished and there he left her. Having completed what he had promised himself, Hummingbird Man turned to leave, but half way, spun back around and addressed the Sun and Moon.

"I thought to bring your daughter back, the one you killed because you only wanted tall son-in-laws from the sky, because you did not want short, unknown, unseen beings; you would not let her love the small and make the world flower. Dismembered by the events that have taken place because of your jealously and tribalist stupidities. The love all of us felt for her should have sufficed to have kept her together. The case we witnessed turned out quite different.

"So, here we have the opportunity to behold her, the child of your thinking, dismembered, and in pieces, she will now agree to your every whim.

“You may claim the title of progenitors of this circumstance. The work started and ended with you.”

NEW CHALLENGE!

Foreigner Lyrics

In my life there’s been heartache and pain
I don’t know if I can face it again
Can’t stop now, I’ve traveled so far, to change this lonely life

I want to know what love is, I want you to show me
I want to feel what love is, I know you can show me
I want to know what love is, I want you to show me
(And I want to feel) I want to feel what love is
(And I know) I know you can show me

Let’s talk about love, I want to know what love is
The love that you feel inside, I want you to show me
And I’m feeling so much love, I want to feel what love is
No, you just can’t hide, I know you can show me
I want to know what love is (let’s talk about love), I know you can show me
I want to feel it too, I want to feel what love is
I want to feel it too, and I know and I know, I know you can show me
Show me love is real, yeah, I want to know what love is