Dysig ond unsnottor

[highlyeccentric]

As gryphonvere, my Canadian alter ego, can easily tell you, I traditionally have no tolerance for soppiness. Very matter-of-fact person, I am. With high standards regarding praise literature.
However, my brain has been eaten by PinkNFluffies. I am right ashamed of myself. Ic, dysig ond unsnottor, am gleeing over this, despite the fact that it is incomprehensible to me, and probably terribly written as well.

goblinpaladin , meanwhile, should be commended for this novel way of memorising gramatical structures. I, when preparing my french exam, wrote a series of short exercises about students failing exams. He writes me letters in Latin! *glees*

mea mellita ami,

ego amo te. novisti me amam te. hoc per gestum et tactum et aspectum
factum erat. dicimus. dicimus nimis, si quid. et nunc amor est.

felicior est te amatoris. cum dico velle manere te, id in animo
habere. stultam est! scio illud. sed volo esse te. ego amo te.

hic amor nos vicit. is nostrae turres et propugnaculo ballistis
delevit, et oppida nostrarum animarum. potvisti non repugnare.

si quid evenerit, erimus bene. erimus una. barbari mei mali imperium
nostri amoris vicerunt non¹. habemus inter se, et illud satis est.

depereo te, mea ami. femina optima es, omnum feminae,

tuus brenton.

1: i am instructed to correct that sentence with: barbari mei mali imperium
nostri amoris non vincient. But i like his grammar faulty.

 No one who actually reads Latin is allowed to give me a translation before B does. Bablefish offerings and general mockery are both welcome.

Comments

[phrasemuffin.livejournal.com]

Oh my, my little Amy,

Ego grows a moustache. My breasts are exploding stars. Hockey players eat wheat germ and talcum powder and asbestos – such erratic facts. Digimon! Digimon are nimble, with money. And an ankh loves you.

Felicitations to you. Come, velour dice of men, and bloody halberds. Salute her! She is love. As said by esoteric, volatile you: ego grows a moustache.

Sycamore trees are no longer allowed to visit. They are un-straying turrets and propagate pugnacious ballistics in Delaware, and open Nostradamus’ body-menagerie. Positively not repugnant, too.

Yes money evens out, with good Eros. The one and only Eros. Barbed wires, with mallets impervious to love, do not sing to the little people. Harbour them inside you, and they will satisfy you.

Disapparate, you, my Amy. A woman as optimum as you, a goddess,

To Brenton.

Just thought I'd give it another go :D It's fun being incorrect on purpose.

[highlyeccentric.livejournal.com]

BRILLIANT...

my latin scholar friends tell me they read this and are much amused, by the way.

also, a friend of B's apparently saw your comments either on this entry or in B's journal, i can't remember, and could tell *instantly* that your taste runs to the gentlemen.
i remember you complaining that no one notices you're gay, so thought that might please you :)

[phrasemuffin.livejournal.com]

*bows*

You know me; anything for a larf. Especially for Latin-enthusiasts :)

haha! Um, I don't know about complaining that no one notices I'm gay, but I have said that I suspect females don't always realise (with the obvious implications), and sometimes I half-jokingly suggest that maybe female-types think I'm gay while male-types think I'm straight, hence the lack of flirting aimed in my general direction (at least as far as I'm aware). And I've complained that people claim to "just know" without any reasoning sometimes, when I don't think I'm particularly camp or anything, which is, more than anything, frustrating.

However, it would seem that my tastes do not run towards the right gentlemen. That's three complete failures now. Well, one failure that ended up with us becoming even better friends, but one failure that is still confusing because he occasionally comes on to me but actually says that it means nothing (and it reeeeaaaally doesn't mean anything), and one failure-to-even-know-the-guy random. It does not bode well for the gentlemen. Perhaps they are, in fact, not gentlement.

[highlyeccentric.livejournal.com]

definitely not true gentlemen, if they are failing to appreciate your charms, m'dear David.

[phrasemuffin.livejournal.com]

*hugs*

[highlyeccentric.livejournal.com]

:)

[phrasemuffin.livejournal.com]

My sweet little Amy,

Men are their egos. It grows with each new conquest, until it bursts from their chests like a dying sun. Hardy men, the farmers and medics and builders – all are governed by this fact. And tenfold! Such truth is tenfold for the meek what it is for the rich. But this man knows not ego, merely loves you.

I would greet you. Come, chance a silent escape in the coming battle. I will honour your efforts! For you are my love. But, as said by the gods: men are their egos.

Sadly, we will no longer be able to visit the Sycamore forests. Those trees with their unbending spires that seem to scrape against the heavens, to tear them assunder, and shine devine truths of futures upon us. Trully, they, too, have beauty.

It is true that your wealth would be a gift in these hard times. However, the only gift I have sought these past months kind Cupid has already imparted. The kind cherub has given me love that shall endure even Thor's hammerstrike, love that shall not be constrictd, even by barbed wire. Take this love of mine to heart, and let it satisfy you.

Come, you, my Amy. Woman of the highest order; a goddess,

As you can see, I've taken it one step further and tried to translate the poor translation into something understandable. I wonder how closely it lines up with the original, pre-Chinese Whispers, text :P

I might do this for the other one too! :D

[highlyeccentric.livejournal.com]

you're NUTS

[phrasemuffin.livejournal.com]

I AM

but that's part of why you love me, isn't it?

[highlyeccentric.livejournal.com]

yes :D