Aleksey,
you are right in everything you say, including where you contradict yourself.
Take zemlyanka or dugout. That same echoes also to “dun-geon”, where zeml is replaced by dun and yanka is replaced by geon’
As for ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, remember he who laughs last laughs best.
If you claim that Russian is your native tongue, I am surprised that reform of Russia to a land of forests rather than burnt-out forests would be undesirable to you. Of course, I do not mean ‘reform’ in the sense ex-pres Zatlers “zaķu reforma”, but a reform that is able to return civilization back to its senses. I know very well that today neither Russia, nor the U.S., nor Europe, not to mention small Latvia, can be made liveable with mere reforming. Not 80 mg, but 150 mgs of aspirin is needed to bring oxygen to the governments there. Economic circumstances, not the brains of the governments of the avove mentioned will bring about the people there re-thinking their priorities. Not sterilized ‘vanckari’, a synonym for sterilized pogankas, though not polyankas, will do humankind service in the upcoming time slot.

This is why I advocate Latvia going beyond mere rule-wrought objectivism, to a perception of a good life in a very different climate. I can agree with you (if I read you right) that it seems like a good laugh to try to do so, but if you look at the video clip from Stratfor (above), you may have a lot more unpleasant surprises (downright real ones) awaiting you around the corner or in the near future. In a time of crisis, the innertia of a train, as much of a hahahaha may well run it off the tracks.

Take zemlyanka or dugout. That same echoes also to “dun-geon”, where zeml is replaced by dun and yanka is replaced by geon’

Er, that’s not how languages work. It is certainly not true with Russian vis-a-vis English. If a word in one language uses a prefix, it doesn’t mean that the same word in another language will have a prefix. In German, sometimes, prefixes go to the end of the sentences, for example. Incidentally, the word “zemlyanka” can also mean a female inhabitant of Earth. English doesn’t have an equivalent unless you can make up a word “earthlingette.”

As to your comments about Russia, one can perfectly well be considered a Russian without Russia. Russia is not a nation state. It’s a federation of nations, essentially. I wish Russia well, however, I’m aware of Russia’s history, I’m aware of the Russian mentality and thus, hahahahaha on the reform Russia.

PS Etymology of “dungeon” From Middle English dungeon, dungeoun, dungun (“castle keep, prison cell below the castle, dungeon”), from Old French donjon (“castle keep”), of Germanic origin, from Old Frankish *dungjo (“prison, dungeon, underground cellar”), from Proto-Germanic *dungijō, *dungijōn (“enclosed space, vault, bower, treasury”), from Proto-Germanic *dungaz, *dungō (“dung, manure”), from Proto-Indo-European *dʰengʰ- (“to cover”). Cognate with Old English dung (“prison, dungeon”), Old Saxon dung (“underground cellar”), Old High German tung (“underground cellar”; > German Tunk (“manure or soil covered basement, underground weaving workshop”)), Old Norse dyngja (“a detached apartment, a lady’s bower”; > Icelandic dyngja (“chamber”)).

It sounds like it comes from the word “dung”, making -eon a suffix.

Er, that’s not how languages work. It is certainly not true with Russian vis-a-vis English. ....

But we are writing-speaking here in English. If it works for English vis a vis Russian that is all that matters if English forms a significantly more influential language than Russian at this time. While the syntaxes of languages may be different, it is not different when it comes to “pareidolia” or associative thinking and linking of things. We know that the eye you see is not an eye, because it sees you—as the poet has it. But the poet is surely right that one can hardly paint an eye and not have it reflect-and see you. Thus, for example, when I hear the name of Jerusalem and find on the map a Russian city called Jaroslav, I cannot help connecting it with earlier times when calling many cities were called Jerusalem, just as Bishop Albert thought of Riga as Jerusalem of the European northeast. One may twist one’s thoughts all one may, but how does “salem” become “slava”? If I turn salem to salam and read its meaning to be peace, I do however see a connection with slava, which means praise, reknown, etc. So, I think it ultimately applies to Russian as well, because the same mind is at work as works at English or Latvian or whatever other language.

“zemlyanka” can also mean a female inhabitant of Earth. English doesn’t have an equivalent unless you can make up a word “earthlingette.”  I do not know enough of Russian to engage in much detail here, but if you translate “zeml” from “zhena”, how do you get from yanka “inhabitant of earth”? Alright, I see how yanka, related to “zhena” or zhenķina, to g(y)ene and g(y)ans, may suggest “man” or even a human being, but how do you, after all the denials, come up with “inhabitant of earth” from yanka? Still, that is what I have been saying all along.

I do not know if “Jeru” in Russian is related to the Latvian word “j(y)ehrs”-jēŗs, lamb, a symbol of peace, but if it is related, then “salem” may be nothing more than an apellage to, say, Peters-burg or Petero-grad. Or is there a better explanation than this flight of pareidolia? On the other hand, this is whence the word “pagan” for the Western world for a very long time http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paganism , and completely excludes the more likely origin in slavic or even baltic languages. Note the to link of the word pagan to religious practices,  except my link is more believeable: pa-yan, Yan being the King as the son of the Sun during the days of summer and winter solstices in January-Yanuary; the latter linked to the old 13 month calendar than the modern 12 months and end of December

I do not wish to hog the space, but it has been an interesting exchange. I do not necessarily associate Yan or Ivan with religion per se, because that is not where I come from, at the same time, I agree with Slavoy Žižek that an atheist is responsible for aspiring to the same kind of life as formerly the Johns of paganka tribes did, and orthodox Christians still do. I do believe that Johns’ Days reflect that same commitment to community and not very long ago were observed with zeal, whyfore it has orgiastic and charismatic attributes still.

Pareidolia is cool (and aintcha glad you looked up eidolon now, Herr Witz?). In language as elsewhere (if there is an elsewhere), it’s a whole lot cooler if one has at least some knowledge of language, and of the languages involved. Otherwise it is about as scintillating as a Michael Jackson worshiper glimpsing the face of Jacko on a triangle of burnt toast.

Have you ever read Baudelaire’s Les paradis artificiels, Jaņdž? I highly recommend it—I suspect it would contain some strong medicine for you… p’raps even an antidote to your john’s-milk… ... ...

I have seen no indication that you are at all into philology. And no, I don’t presume to be an expert—no way. I did study the basics under Lelis, briefly, and I do not wildly fragment elements willy-nilly, pie tam in languages I don’t know at all and that aren’t even in the same group. 

Jērs, for instance, is a fascinating word—in its relation to year, too. The real etymology (forgive me for inserting any reality), pp. 355-56 in vol. I of Karulis, is simply a lot more riveting than free association by some pseudo-Eastern dude slumming it on turf he sinks he knows ‘cause of his whacked pareidolia. Your pareidolia strikes me as shallow. The face of the eternal Vaņka on… hmm, an incinerated pīrādziņš.

It’s like being told in portentous tones that the island in Sventes ezers, Višņu sala, which holds the remnants of a sacrifical oak, proves a deep relation between Vishnu and Sanskrit and the dainas and the fact that Balts mebbe built the pyramids and, and, and… it’s just вишня, etc.—Slavic for cherry trees, which grow there. The All-Pervader was never involved.

You can associate as freely as you like. I’d rather read verse by an etymologically aware poet or delve into Pokorny. Gasoline rainbows can be gorgeous, but they are superficial and toxic.

In your case, you mostly reflect yourself. Were it truly creative, davai. I don’t get that fīlings, though. I’m sure you are a charming and even enlightened being, but your ruminations are hardly fresh—they’re refried solipsistic regurgitants; Chaadayev covered far more than you can cover, sans the bloat, or the priesthood complex, or the pathetic self-regard.

I looked at my ashtray yesterday, and therein—God. Or Jancītis. I am certain your urine is tasty, but—galīgi garām.

Not that I don’t like you. The fog gets a bit thick, though.

Visu gaišu ziedonī,
/P

Thus, for example, when I hear the name of Jerusalem and find on the map a Russian city called Jaroslav, I cannot help connecting it with earlier times when calling many cities were called Jerusalem

Don’t. Yaroslavl (not Yaroslav) was founded by a prince of Kievan Rus Yaroslav the Wise. I think it’s self-explanatory.

if you translate “zeml” from “zhena”

You don’t. Zemlya and Zhena are two different words. One means “earth” (thus an earthling). The other means “wife” and it comes from the word “zhenschina” i.e. a woman. What makes zemlyanka feminine is the suffix -anka. Compare it to the masculine version of the word earthling - “zemlyanin.” In the plural, it becomes Zemlyane, earthlings.

Alexsejs/
You are right again. The Latvian zeme and Russian zemlya are one word, whereas Zhena is another. Certainly the words imply and point to a long association or neighborliness of the Balts and Slavs, some of it likely going back to times before Russia became a state.

Instead of confusing the two words, your simultaneous use made me wonder, because you did not make it clear, whether you were somehow associating zeml with zhena, re zemlyanka. My own limited knowledge of Russian stimulated me to wonder if in your mind zeml was somehow associated with wife. In my mind, is certainly associated not only with wife, but also woman. As you and many others here do not seem to wish to understand, much of my interest is to discover some of the very old roots of certain words. Thus, for me, Zheņa ia a near perfect derivative of Y being substituted by J, by G(ene)-Jeans, and Ž, Zh, and suggests that before “woman” became a man’s possession as a “wife”, the word points to a different social order. Just to confuse P/ further, the Latvians have a saying, they frequently pull of ouf the blue, especially when the wild cherry (ievas) are blooming, that goes “Ieva sieva; Ieva=sieva”. which presents one with some comparative reduction of woman (ieva) to sieva; as when P/ sees his face stamped on a “pīrāgs” is like the late U.S. president Nixon disclaiming himself not to be a thief.

With regard to the word dungeon, another interesting one is donjon, the central tower of a castle. The name can be met in China and all over Europe. My association, thus, enables me to see that the word donjon suggests the possibility of the word once having been or of become the John of Johns, as in the Krīvs of krīvi. Since the days of the primeval horde, where the center was occupied by either one male or many males, surrounded by women and children (? the castle bureaucracy? certainly when the castrates were added to the ‘family’, and the young males left live outside the castle walls and becoming an expendable first line of defense in the event of an attack by viking marauders.

Some years ago, I a ran a long series of entries on LOL where the issue of year, j(y)ers, and yeru also came up. Unfortunately, a Latvian born in the U.S.s in 1964 is rather handicapped (no fault of his own, except when insulting himself with conceit) when it comes to putting himself in the Latvian environment, when old men in their 70s still were a presence in Latvia, and still had not forgotten the wandering tradition. I for one I remember a traveling John, acarpenter by trade, who did the carving of the family dinner table; as a child, I liked to be around him, because he was not only a kindly man, but obviously a man out of the ordinary in a Riga setting. I believe he might have been from Alūksne. The traveling carpenter might well, however, have found a Chicagoan a la 1964 in Latvia something from Mars, as that same Chicagoan today presumes to think that Latvians ought to fit his ideas of what the characteristics of Latvians are or ought to be. Not surprisingly, another Chicagoan, Ojars Kalnins, was put into the post of being a kind of Information Minister, but could not configure anything sensible to say about Latvia, because his ear is so attuned to the modes of pop culture. In any event the connection of the the lamb or jērs (yehrs) is likely recalling the annual sacrifice of a lamb, still a continuous tradition in Moslem lands.

I do remember that the Russian orthodox and the moslems at one time attended each others holy places, making no separation of the buildings in their minds. There is quite a bit about this relationship in Anatoly Fomenko’s many volumed writings (I have access only vol. 1-4 of “History: Fiction of Science”. I suspect, Alekseys, you know something about this matter, if you claim to know Russians as you do. Since I was separated from my “russian” forebear (maternal grandmother) at an early age, much has passed me by, but I do know that a traveling monk, one attached to her uncle’s estate in Tombova, saved not only her life, but possibly many others during the bloody days of the Civil War. For all I know, the monk may not have been able to save himself, as the Stalinists did a rather thorough eliminating of the Russia that connected it to a most interesting past.

Has it ever crossed your mind, Jaņdž, to read some basics before indulging in free association?

As to this focus you have of late on 1964 and Chicago—I don’t get it. Mars? Really? Much of the work done to bring about this nation-state was done abroad—I mean the first time, not in its supposed resuscitation. Valters’ demand for autonomy was first published in Cleveland. Most of the Republic’s founding fathers, left and/or right, were driven into exile after 1905. And even before—see Alunāns anent the first atmoda.

You can amuse yourself with wisdom purportedly drawn from the earth. I find that horribly silly.

You yourself pretty much admit to reading almost nothing creative in Latvian. You keep talking about a shell of a language, etc.—when you obviously know absolutely nothing about what’s out there. About what draws young, bright Latvians.

that same Chicagoan today presumes to think that Latvians ought to fit his ideas of what the characteristics of Latvians are or ought to be

Oh, bull. Better to suck down a lot of john’s-milk and define Latvians through Fomenko’s ravings?

Latvians, if anything, are extremely diverse. One can speculate about a national character, which can be stimulating—but your stuff strikes me as brainless. It’s refried, rancid stuff fought out in the 19th C between Slavophiles, Russophiles, Westernizers, et al.—you haven’t read the Latvian reactions to such. From that time. Era. Why don’t you do that?

I don’t know how many times I’ve heard people (often Dvinskians) trying to explain how Russia (all the Russias, to use an archaic form) preserve some high spirituality. Sorry, but it’s usually like a fanatical Serbian nationalist bashing his head against a wall. The exaltation of misery.

You’ve been proven dead wrong about the forests, Jancīt. I rarely concur with my vārdabrālis Briedis, but he quite succinctly ripped your idiocy apart.

Float, float in apophenia. In Latvia, gravity don’t apply.

Visu to labāko,
/P

P/:  Yes, of course, Latvia in the 21st century a la Chicago. That is what Latvia wants? Hmm.

Chicago is an interesting town. I had the opportunity to visit it quite often in the early fifties, about a decade before you were born, while I was attending a school at the Great Lakes Naval Station. I am not putting down the contributions of the Chicago Latvian community for producing one or more know it alls. I put it down to an unpleasant personality trait. L. Streips and myself attended Northeastern University in Boston at the same time in the very early 50s. As far as I know, Laimonis made significant contributions to the Latvian community in Chicago and beyond. Also, quite a few of my DP camp acquaintances went off to live in Minnesotta and Wisconsin and rebuilt their lives from there. Thus, it is not as if I am not aware of the trend of thought among the Latvians in that part of middle America. However, if you think you are rebuilding Latvia or contributing anything whatsoever by further expanding on the Turrett’s syndrome at LOL, only those the Latvian government likes to stay uninformed are likely to benefit. I have said before, that LOL has in my opinion great potential and I would like to contribute in making it so by broadening the spectrum of things that need to be known about Latvia, especially going back to when it was a part of Livonia and a land of forests. Such a contribution cannot be made by either me or anyone else if the critical ball of yarn (coherent communication—whether oppositionary or new fangled) is constantly scissored by verbal Turretts, chewed by a teeth grinder (who cannot get the worm out of his stomach), or smeared by one who has chronic puke attacks when opening his verbal trumpet. I see you quite enjoy being part of the Paganka Kleptocraciya. It figures.

I see you quite enjoy being part of the Paganka Kleptocraciya.

Что?

/P

P.S. And if you keep changing “J” into “Y”—what is this with the “C”?

I could go on and on about most any of your sentences forever. That is what Latvia wants? Excuse me, Jancīt, but who are you to define ‘what Latvia wants’? We have elections, y’know—win any?

/P

P.P.S. LOL has near zero potential except as a (somewhat admirable) gathering place for diaspora Latvians, some of whom have repatriated. English-language stuff has almost no effect in Latvia. Why should it? But, then—what do you mean by ‘potential’? For what? Returning people to the woods? What kinda ‘puter you use, Jancīt? What make of car do you drive?

/P

P.P.P.S. And I will ask you again—what keeps you from banding together with other folk of your ilk? Stare at the stars, blur them together, do group readings of Fomenko, and so on—what’s the problem? Between Blavatasky and Roerich, Kaspars Dimiters and the weirdos seeking a Russian king, surely you could find your place? Renovate Jersika. Speak deeply of your woody.

/P

P/: What you forget is that in the internet age, the orthodox academic is passe.
Here is a Tower of Janis or Jāņu tornis, known as donjoh, transl. John of Johns:
http://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Donjon
I am interested to know if Aleksejs can provide the Russian name for it: Bašhņa Ivana?  Is there not such a tower at the core of the Kremlin?

But I don’t mind being passé, Jaņdž—I’m a high-school dropout myself. Still I tend to distinguish between people who know what they are talking about, and/or not. & you’re not answering any of my questions—why don’t you band together with other whackos to sing about clear-cut forests. Find some domubiedri. This is a democracy, no?

/P

Is there not such a tower at the core of the Kremlin?

No.