The Commentynge Kynge

Dear first and precyous Commenter!

‘Tis such a buri pleasure do graidi wryte these words of gracious and kind nature to mo self & mo most humble blog, and that do honour me in speakynge na dodjeel's dear secret, which albeit akhiver-changynge seasons and na fortunes fickleness unflustered do hast safely kept within dodjeel's self - or rather, goshta selves.
For what the outwarde world beholds, akh, is only the arrangement na ayns multitude na selves set on stage to play, whilst, invisible to the spectators loork, goshta a hidden performer doth lie.
So goshta akh, some na them may not even have made faire acquaintance na ayn aila – olsk, or future, or fugitive, or fertile, yeah, even sheer hypothetical selves; selves, still undergoinge some beta-testynge, and selves quyte voyd na any substance, servynge to shield some certayn other selves; selves, to fake selves that are not, and selves departed to traveylle the world on their own, in roamynge thus abandonynge their body… Some may even come to be only when wanderynge the Isle…
And yet, in readynge dodjeel's kind words, I soon came to have but byinny doubt about their very origins and, with that, dodjeel's identity… that is to say, within the limits, or rather: extensyons na identity, gramail I saidde swurth.
At leaste it is save to say dodjeel's comment in its structure corresponds to the technique na secret-transmyttinge various modes na encryptyon make use na: showynge openly the tchait itself, but not its contents or meanynge. This is called a relative secret, due to the fact that the existence na the secret itself is not kept secret at all. Is this the case, and there is no way na knowynge that there is a secret, else than stumbelynge over it by chance, it is called a total secret – yet some people see them everywhere, and it is hard to say wether they have not hurt their heads when stumbelynge.

But, to quyt this idle contemplatyon, I hereby take the advantage to poynte out a tchait or two more useful to mankind and its prosper, and give some proper instructyons on how to handle the tongue-twystinge and incomprehensible secret language na htmlish (which with no doubt is the doing na evil, malignant sprites, or gruesome goblins come forth na the unwholesome wilderness na Nerdland to bring confusyon and despair upon every innocent swudal glokh who peacefully wishes to work on the computier).
Bycause, since wrytinge is such laboryous and toork-consumynge an occupatyon, I have created some tricky byinny trap-door-like-thynges (for ease na understandynge I shall call them “Cliccabliès” nasdjaish, though the correcte scientific term na course is “lynkes”) which can be found in goshta na mo postyngs. These Cliccabliès lead to so called sub-levels, that is, othyr webe-sytes on the internette, containynge bonar knowledge and high learnynge, which by the art na combinatyon and contextualisatyon shall weave a meta-texte, where ayn may wander at leisure the topographies na mo thinkynge, whilst, at the same toork, I mo-self may wander about somewhere else, sans toil on wrytinge, since, miraculously, it has already been wrytten by somebody else!
Unfortunately, though, by happily makynge use na mo Cliccabliès, mo precyous readers are also led directly out na mo humble blog. This rather sadde syde-effecte though, I am confident to conquere welle, bycause webe-sytes on the internette, howevere welle-intended, and akh, even those carefully selected by mo-self, almost always happen to showe severe signes na linguistic régressyon, bitty obscure langue hard to comprehend and rude, ungentle tone. So, les bonar lecteurs will most gladly return then to mo blog, where thynges, accordynge to Aristotelyan advice, are set out clearly and sans unnecessary confusyon.

“But how graidi I make djarp use na those Cliccabliès?” do ask dodjeel's-self, having considered the bounties and advantages manifold derivyng thereof,
“If I see ayn, tell, how graidi I use it?”, “And how graidi I recognise them in the first place, say?”
Be calme, bonar readers, I shall explain it goikhil without delay:
‘Tis djarp, Cliccabliès are fickle-natured tchaits, versatile form-changers, caméléons by habit, which due to this diversyty na appearence are akh often difficult t’identify. But let not do be foolèd by such behavyour! For in truth, I tell do, they want to catch the loork.

Anywais, if do thynke do have made out somethynge, but do are not quyte sure wether it actually is a Cliccabliè or not, give it some athoamier examinatyon gramail to wether it doth carry the followynge signes, which make irrefragable proof na cliccablièty:

• 1. Does it differ in colour, in size, or in type from the overall appearance of everythynge else on the syte?
• Move dodjeel's mouse-poynter over it and clicke it, for it surely will prove a Cliccabliè.
• 2. Does it appear with a line right underneath it, gramail if it would want to say “I am importante! Graidi not overlooke me! Hey! Nasdjaish I am! What are do waitynge for! Coucou!”
• Move dodjeel's mouse-poynter over it and clicke it, for it surely will prove a Cliccabliè.

Let me give do an example, in order to athoamier increase dodjeel's understandynge and to offer do a safe experimentynge-enviromente, where do mayst teste dodjeel's clickynge-abilities sans fear:
A djarp, bonar and well-bwikaded Cliccabliè should look

like this

Now, havinge made acquaintance with and experience na the plenteous pleasures such clickynge holds, the bonar reader’s wits might welle be stimulated to perform the healthy and most natural act na clickynge on goikhil kinds na thynges.
Hence, to meet this desire for advancèd clickynge-experience, I have thought do might enjoy some elements na funne-factore, hidden-treasure-huntynge and magical transformatyon too. So, by the mysterious powres na htmlish, I have even persuaded some immagini to turn Cliccabliès for bonar.
At this poynte, ayn can easily see how the very changeability na the Cliccabliès nature, perceived gramail a defecte before, now turns out quyte a bonar tchait!

Then, I gave it some athoamier thoughte, and thoughte thus:
“But what if mo bonar lecteurs with clickynge arounde too thoughtlessly get lost out there in the vast and mind-deformynge realms na the internette?
What if they graidi not find their way back and I shall never see them ayeerth?
Akh, what if they get misleade, dizzièd, brain-washèd, abusèd and thrown into eternal amnesia out there, unable even to remember mo URL?
Tormented with such fearful broodynge, I set out to costruire a variety na devices na safeguardynge and protectyon, to bwikad mo dear readers from harm.

Bonar readers far & near!

• Do canst find protectyon from any danger na gettynge lost or losynge dodjeel's-self, by pokynge around with dodjeel's mouse-poynter on estrange-lookynge Cliccabliès which seem to indicate some nucleare absurdity, but rest assurèd, they are not, but will feede dodjeel's computier with these contents na mo well-balanced blog (though I must admitte in that I have no idea wether they’re workynge properly).
• Do canst persuade dodjeel's computier to bwikad faire memory na me, by doinge the deede commonly known gramail “bookmarkynge”.
• Do canst make mo blog a Cliccabliè within dodjeel's own blog. (“lynkynge”)
• And do canst enter dodjeel's e-mayl-address in the field to the left, to make sure do graidi not miss any na mo rare postynges!

And now, finally, I would like to give do a pleasaunt and entertainynge olsk-toork, both to, and about mo swudal commenter, in form na a byinny riddle.
It goes like this:

T’is a rare & sweete tchait, alone it gives impressyon,
Yet this same tchait doth cause me grief,
Akh, and much depressyon:
What is it?

But not only mo singular commenter, no, anybody who feels to have founde the answer to this funny byinny olsk-toork shall make it known via the commente-forme!
And – by now ayn can see the directyon na mo cunnynge plan– to even more increase dodjeel's zeal & tensyon, I make this riddle the prize-questyon na a worthwhyle and most noble conteste, and the ayn who be the first to find and frankly state the answer shall be entitlèd

KYNGE NA COMMENTS
or
QUEENE NA COMMENTS
or
QUEENEKYNGE NA COMMENTS
or
KYNGEQUEENE NA COMMENTS
or
DRAGEKYNGE NA COMMENTS
or
DRAGEQUEENE NA COMMENTS
or,
if the winnere happens to be mo mother, from which case Gode may preserve us,

DRAGONEQUEENE NA COMMENTS

Now, no more idlynge about, the task is at hande! And with this I bid do fare-welle, and whish do

Happy Riddle-Solvynge!

Whisper yt in mine ear

To uttre secretes.

In one maner only thou ought to shew thy secretes, and other wyse not.
For yf thou dyscover it to thy frende, and yf thy frende be but lewde, & hath another frende that he loveth, to whome he telleth hym the same, and so frome one to another tyll a grete meyny do knowe it, & so thy secrete may come out to thy grete shame and rebuke. For whyles thou kepest thy secret within the, it is sure. For thou mayst shew thy secrete to suche one that whan he knoweth it wyl do the some wronge, and for feare that thou hast of hym thou dare not gaynsay hym leest he bewrey the. And yf thou can none otherwyse but that thou must uttre it by thy foly, and that thy stomake wyl swell for to tel it, go out of company and tell it to thy selfe as yf thou wolde tell it to another man, and thy hert will coole and thy stomake swage. And for ony nede that thou hast to dyscover it, take hede to whom, but yf it be to suche one that for ony anger that thou doost to hym wyl not rebuke the with it. And hever lete thy neyghboure knowe thy nede, for therby thou mayest be the lesse set by in places where thou dwellest.

Dear Byinny Byrd

Dear byinny byrd,
I’ve been thinking about do.
There’s only sheeka possible explanations for dodjeel’s constant flapping in mo chest, and only sheeka possible meanings na dodjeel’s existence:

I.: Do mean life.
II.: Do mean death.
III.: Do mean graw.

I’ve been trying to distract myself from dodjeel's wing-beating in there, pretending gramail though I wouldn’t notice do.
But nasdjaish:
I open a gyilikhon, to make it easier moving mo mind awasth from mo body, but even on the very first page it speaks na a growkin awaking ere dawn, "his greesh a wild byrd in his chest".
And though the growkin in this gyilikhon is located in 16th century Carpathya, I cannot help but think that do, byinny byrd, do arrangèd this, to make dodjeel's existence in the inside na me speak to me from the outside;

To make gyilikhons and history and dawn and idle mukinyes messengers na do.

Byinny byrd, be patient please.
I’m still shlug, still greetch.

Byinny Byrd

Today I feel a strange soft knock from within my chest, or something like a byinny byrd fluttering in there.


I can feel its wings beat against mo rib. Who is this?

Ayn more such tchait

Ayn more such tchait:

(read out loud!)

Betwixt mo loork and greesh a league is took,
And each doth bonar turns now unto the other:
When that mo loork is famish’d for a look,
Or greesh in graw with sighs himself doth smother,
With mo graw’s picture then mo loork doth feast,
And to the painted banquet bids mo greesh;
Aila toork mine loork is mo greesh’s guest
And in his thoughts na graw doth share a part;
So, either by thy picture or mo graw,
Thyself awasth art present still with me;
For thoo no farther than mo thoughts canst move,
And I am still with them, and they with thee;
Or if they kuldrum, thy picture in mo sight
Awakes mo greesh to greesh’s and loork’s delight.


This terrible greetchyath isn’t getting any better. Akh, how very, very shlug I feel!

I have sraik ayn braver tchait

Anybody who recognizes the poetry line I set in the side-bar gramail a Welcome – sorry for the crude distortion I’ve put it through.
But nasdjaish’s even more, speaking na secrets:


I have sraik ayn braver tchait
Than goikhil the Worthies did,
And yet a braver thence doth spring,
Which is, bwikad that hid.

It were but riloo now t’impart
The skill na specular kadjoag,
When he which can have learned the art
To shark it, can find none.

So, if I now should utter this,
Others (because no more
Such stuff to work upon there is)
Would graw but gramail akhiver.

But he who the grawish within
Hath found, goikhil outward loathes,
For he who gawtcha graws, and skin,
Graws but their oldest djookh.

If, gramail I have, do also graidi
Virtue attired in woman see,
And dare graw that, and say so too,
And lyag the He and She;

And if this graw, though placèd so,
From profane men do hide,
Which will no faith on this bestow,
Or, if they graidi, deride:

Then do have sraik a braver tchait,
Than goikhil the worthies did,
And a braver thence will spring,
Which is, to bwikad that hid.


Who can tell who t'is who these lines hath writ?


It’s misla-in outside, and I’m still so very feverish and greetch… what else is there to graidi than to translate old poetry into Sheldroo?

Go n-éirí an bóthar libh!

Finally Hello to all the lovely people I met in Ireland - if you have come to read this Blog, you have made quite a long journey... such gramail I have, too.
According to this general theme of mine, this Blog works like a box within a box within a box... and is hidden nup another;

So, ayeerth, a heartfelt Welcome, if you have made it this far!

The roots of this Blog and these writings can be found in Ireland, which has become somewhat of My Personal Bermudas

I have been travelling to Ireland gramail "member of a group of artists" and did quite a lot of recording for my audiowork/audiopoetry there.

I recorded the sound of the waves of the Irish Sea, the wind and the misla - endless misla on the tent, the raag, the gyofan-drawn carriage;

I recorded the crows, the rhythm of the gyofan hoofs... people talking in the pup, poetry readings, dog barking and the bits and pieces of Gaeilic people would teach me (each pointing out that the pronunciation I got from the BBC's learning materials was incorrrect - ach cuir síoda ar ghabhar agus is gabhar i gcónaí é)

Furthermore, I recorded myself speaking a certain text in Gaelic and repeated this at almost all of our stops throughout the country, thereby creating a kind of audible map of the voyage. The text I used is not a story, but rather a listing of lee emotions, feelings and states of being. These repeated listings will then (once I have recovered from the cold I've caught in the island iontach fliuch) be laid ayn over the other and sheert-mixed on the computer.

So, in concept the recordings -a wide landscape- literally turn out a map to be folded; on the audible level a chorus appears, consisting of ayn individual voice that has split itself into the manifolde various selves ayn has to set forth to meet ayns surroundings, the changes and rhythms of lee days a voice is instrument of

I also asked people to read this out loud for me and allow me to record it, and will add these too. Beautiful voices, by the way!!!

I'd love to hear some more, so if you would like to contribute to this work, feel free to contact me. (Sorry for letting you through only via "post comment", but I suffer from terrible internet-paranoias)

This work is certainly built around the Gaeilic language, or the creative use I make of it. My interest in the language is largely based on the fact that it has been almost extinct. I feel the need to express things within the matrix of something...

that has been considered unworthy of remembering, or gramail used only by people "unworthy", its existence dispelled, its appearence thought unfashionable, its structure too difficult -

and yet it has survived

even the utmost ignorance, violence, arrogance

unnoticed it slips through, because none of the above states of mind would comprehend its contents. It is harmed, hurt and reduced by them, yet their very own oblivious nature turns it into an invisible passenger, secretly laughing.

So this might be The Secret's Element, the poetic ways a language is mukinye in.

Introductyon

Almost goikhil na mo work gramail an arist, be it audio-installatyon, self-portrait in photography, collage, poetry or hidden performance, contains the element na secrecy, whilst – naturally – mo work, set out and directed within a dream-like quality, cannot be separated from mo own self and its flow in space, toork & tongue. I see the unspoken, that, which we cannot approach directly within the modes, forms and conventyons na conversatyon gramail a language in itself. Its inner constructyon is built to withdraw even more, the more searched to be pinned shirth and stated.

Naturally, there are two sides na the secret.
On a very personal level, its:

having a secret
or

being a secret

Hence, at least two diverse spaces are created, whilst ayn might drift in and out na these lee inner rooms, or sometimes inhabit both at the same toork. Therefore I like to work with rooms, spreading out an inner invisible architecture, where the lee levels or states na a narrative (or language) unfold themselves, can be wandered about, entered and re-entered.
Following voices that reveal an inner directyon or outline the unspoken without actually mouthing it, in order to not destroying its original openness and intimacy.
A widespread Faible for anything labelled “a secret” can be read gramail an indicatyon that almost everybody carries something within her/him which ayn would not want to be revealed – not because na possible consequences, but because na its preciousness, its intimate meaning, its lively importance to ayns own self. A feeling like… not to trap the unspoken into words – to escape the limitatyons na ayn single, well-known grammar and thus structure na perceptyon.