Michal is kicking around the possibility of reinforcing his elephantine Fiction Corpus with some really short funny stories; cites fatigue
Posted:
I think highly of the idea of promulgating English as an international language for the world. I don't trust in the routinely sanctioned plan by which the English language is presented for study.
Perfecting a person's intimacy with a language isn't like developing a hotter furnace. A language - a common language - is not merely an instrument that you can teach yourself to exploit with greater amounts of precision. A common tongue can not be sequestered from the shared logic of a recognized nation of which it is a description. A language isn't recited; it happens - and keeps happening as long as a circle of people keeps using it.
To make a pupil recite English is to strip him of its cultural context. A good teacher has to develop a plan for introducing it; the smartest pupil ventures out to seek it.
A dictionary - properly used - can become an influential tool. A decent dictionary will define a language on the basis of a specific corpus, a set of writing of varying size and consistency. Such a corpus might contain anything from a book about literature to some real mystery stories. I lost many a sleepless night developing my "staggering" Fiction Corpus in order to form a special class of dictionary based on the ability of one man to tell a story in myriad forms. It is a labor of love and listening.
I have shaped a million words and I have diagnosed them, reshaping them - not simply to teach an American language but to defend the human soul, and to goad that spirit or soul not just to recite but to happen.
Author's Note: I have been enjoined from sharing the details of my true romance adventure until such time that the other party is prepared to present her perspective on the affair arrangement...
On Monday, I arrived in Europe. By Wednesday I had bought a car. By Friday I had met the woman who a few months later would end up having travelling 6,000 miles across Europe with me.
Call it an accident. Call it divine will. I was never supposed to meet Margo...if not for one man's random criminal act...another abuse piled upon humanity by a fellow human. A robbery. A purse-snatching of a purse that happened to contain a passport. An assault on the human body. One of society's bad habits that I had come to fight as an artist working for body acceptance.
From America I brought with me the American can-do spirit. She saw the car that I had bought, the terrible camp stove I had borrowed, and my sundry canned goods and challenged me to make-do. In my optimism I assured her that if we lacked for anything I would make up the difference. She assured me that if she lacked for anything she would find her way to the nearest airport and fly home. Luckily that never happened.
As far apart culturally as we may have been, we spent 6,000 miles in one car. We spent over 40 nights in one tent. We started learning how to listen to each other. We started learning how to accept our differences and how to let them help us instead of driving us apart. Slowly but surely, we started learning how to beat the devils that abuse us.
6,000 miles across Europe with a complete stranger
During our trip across Europe, Margo very bravely opened up to me and to the camera. It was a difficult thing to do considering the scars that she carries. I wanted to share with the world her often joyful, often sad, often angry but always liberating experience except that the Internet is full of pictures of naked women and men and full of trolls who abuse them.
I realized that what I really need to point out is not the openness that Margo and I cultivated between ourselves, but the darkness that continues to surround us. When I censor nudity, I do so in a way that does not compromise the integrity of the human body. In censoring the photographs that Margo and I took during our trip, I was quick to notice that in those pictures where Margo was at her most open, at her most unguarded and most relaxed, in a word, when she was herself and basking in the sun I was forced to blacken her completely.
Why does our society drive people into darkness? Why can we not accept ourselves as we are? Why can we not accept our bodies? Have we truly become eunuchs? Or are we capable of defying the sickness that pits us against each other? Together we could conquer the devils that abuse us.
Whether you enjoy being nude or not, whether you've been photographed nude or not, but especially if, for you, like for Margo, it's something you never thought you would do, consider submitting your own photograph to be published in a censored manner as a form of protest against the ubiquitous presence of the human body on the internet, naked or not, that is published and duplicated ad infinitum without context and without regard for the identity or the needs of the individual being depicted.
Michal's Dictionary: Understanding the word Arms
A word can represent many things. First and foremost it represents a type of gesture. A specific way of speaking. A specific way of inscribing a mark. A specific way of moving your hand. To know one of these kinds of gestures is to know how to pronounce the word arms in some kind of way.
If you want to communicate an idea using the word arms, you will need to know what other people are made to think when you make the gesture. You will never have complete awareness of or control over the associations or identities that are invoked by a set of words, but you can know what was and what is a single word's jointly accepted definition, at least for a given place, thereby tracing a direction which will help you to understand what kinds of associations and identities are driving its use.
By using the word yourself, you enter into a long-standing albeit oftentimes unconscious debate over its definition, forever entangling yourself into the history of its use. The way you use it, and which other words you use it with carries weight.
The more you know about where the word arms is located in the fabric of a language, the better you will be at exploiting its cultural power.
Pronunciation of Arms
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the word arms.
Video of me pronouncing "arms."
Definition of Arms
Arms are a fuel that usually come attached to either side of a primate torso and often include the hands and, by extension, things that are carried in them though this is usually limited to tools that are used to hurt other creatures.
Common use of arms in illustrative example sentences
I have yet to come up with a fifth sentence using the word arms.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a sixth sentence using the word arms.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a seventh sentence using the word arms.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
Usage of Arms in Michal's Fiction Corpus
Michal's Fiction Corpus of Acceptance Literature (FiCAL) is presented under the Bare Bottom imprint. It is currently comprised of six bodies of work, each representing a different pillar of culture and incorporating a wide variety of writhing styles.
I have yet to make a morphological analysis of the word arms.
That doesn't mean it's not high on my list.
Table of Frequency for the Word "Arms."
This table lists in descending order the total number of times that the word armsand any of its morphological derivations appears in the Fiction Corpus, along with a breakdown of frequency by title, the respective rank of each word in the complete list of all words in the Corpus, as calculated both densely and competitively, as well as the percent increase in frequency of the word over the frequency of the next lowest rank in the complete list.
Percent Increase over next rank
RANK
WORD
Frequency
TOTAL # of occurences
MCDONALDS
JESUS
SEX
TSIGA
JACKSON
DINGBATS
dense
competitive
modern/sloppy
biblical/terse
poetic/high-brow
hard/fast
talky
mixed salad
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
I have yet to publish the table of frequency for the word arms, but I will get to it shortly. -Michal
A story bible for a comic book series set in a post climate-change California narrated by eight characters who live through a natural disaster that sinks Los Angeles and triggers a war with an expansionist Mexican government covertly supported by China.
Frame #5736
harley leapt into my arms when i got up to her floor. if she can get over her fear of being embraced. she can get over her fear of water.
An experimental science fiction Christology that makes Jesus the hard boiled narrator of his own early years on a bizarro earth made dark by volcanic ash and informally ruled by a man from Mars who sells bottled air.
Did the first man who successfully defended himself against one of those predators do so with a weapon? If so, whether that weapon was a rock, a spear, a bone, or a horn, did he throw it? or did he hold it in his hand? More importantly, did the first man to hunt down successfully one of those predators do so by holding his weapon? or by throwing it? Which was preferred? Which left the most men living? Which was admired more by the womenfolk? Are we the children of those who threw their weapons? or those who held them?
"Hello?" said the Krupnik. "Yes: very good. Thank you." Hanging up, he turned to Jesus and said, "Alright: we're going to see Nigel."
"Who's Nigel?"
"Don't call him that when you see him - I don't know what his real name is. That's who's buying the weapons - alright?"
"Is he a terrorist?"
"No: he's a fucking businessman - like you: asshole."
"Respect."
"Fuck you, motherfucker! I would puke down your fucking throat if given half the chance - don't mention the word 'respect' to me, cutesy boy. I'm gonna make you shit your panties before we're through."
A literature book narrated by a pair of siblings on either side of the Atlantic whose profoundly weird sexual experiences pose a serious challenge to their traditional understanding of mathematicians, marriage, gay young men and God.
She was the fattest woman he had ever seen. If that bitch was eighty, then she must have been eight hundred pounds. The rolls of her waist came down to her knees. Her arms were the size of Nike's torso.
NIKE: Listen to this: apparently, there's this Polish village in the Beskid Mountains. It's been making lace for centuries. Families have their own traditional designs and everything - you know: passed down for generations; this stuff is ancient. Every daughter has to learn this before she turns six or something, before her fingers are too old to learn. So they've been making lace for years - mostly for the church, you know: vestments, lace cloths, whatever - I don't know what you Catholics need. Anyway: times are tough, right? They're always tough when you're in a village. These people are workin' their little farms; they're tryin' to have a good time - but, when the church cuts back on lace - ooh! that's when the trouble starts. So what did these women do? the young ones? They started making stringi. Do you know what stringi are? They're thongs, man. They're makin' thongs! They sell 'em on the Internet. Luka just bought one for his woman.
In fact, when Nike began prowling around the Bois de Boulogne that night, walking up and down the Allée de la La Reine Margo, he noticed more than one pair of gendarmes watching him from across the street, leaning against their patrol cars, arms crossed and almost uncontrollably chuckling. Nike had to give them the old 'up yours:' the one involving both arms - but, Nike was so furious, he leaned into his gesture, and his arm came up so forcefully that he accidentally punched himself in the head, which provoked, in that particular set of gendarmes who were privy to it, the most outrageous laughter ever to be witnessed in officers who otherwise were representing the only semblance of law to be seen (or cherished) in that most dark and seedy of places.
I spent the night with Olympia and Fabric. They were very well mannered. Olympia was even kind enough to attend me while I washed her sister, and Fabric gave me very little resistance. She must like bathing. It was very fun to watch her fluttering those tiny arms around.
A collection of stories featuring a sexy Parisian ghost, a spooky Moon base full of vagina-faced aliens, a policeman with an Irish name, a truck full of watermelons, a flautist, and a man who has to see another man about a diseased horse.
Something darted. I turned my head. I jumped. I breathed a sigh of relief. It was the road, bathed in headlights. Somebody was driving. There was a passenger. I stretched my arms. I gripped the corners of the bucket seats. I tried to pull myself. I barely moved. My arms were powerless. I sat back.
Her breasts were bared. She wasn't wearing a tunic. Only the flimsy fabric of a friar's scapular covered the length of her body beneath her cloak. With her arms stretched back, two nodules of beautiful fat bulged from beyond her hems, settling under their own weight like egg white beaten to a soft peak, waiting to be folded into batter. The satin of her scapular suddenly sashayed across her nipples. It fell against the side of one breast. It squeezed itself into her cleavage. Pluck, I begged quietly to myself, the obnoxious apron out.
Luka pushed her forward. She grabbed at the gag. Luka forced her arms back. He thought about what to do. He wrapped the cloak around her arms. He would have to tie it. With one hand, he gathered the fabric of the scapular. He twisted it. He knotted the ends together.
In one photograph, she had her arm around Harry Connick Myklebust's wife, Debbie. "She's got long arms," thought Junior. "I like that." He realized this was a golden opportunity. If she saw the Myklebusts socially, Junior could finagle his way into her company. All he had to do was make friends with Harry Connick.
Fu smirked. She started unbuttoning her shirt. She didn't have time to take it off. Tae pulled her in. She yelped. She thrashed her arms about like a baby. Tae held her up by her bottom. He laughed. "Can't you swim?" he asked. He didn't wait for an answer. He kissed her on the mouth. Fu kissed back.
A real play. With drama in it. Talk fast. It takes two hours. Set in a guest house. In a small community. After a murder. Lots of suspicion. The characters learn to listen to each other. It's funny.
MS. JACKSON: When were you in Fiji?
LESBIAN: Not too long ago. I stayed in a hut just like the villagers do. It was part of a hotel on a secluded beach. It was absolutely gorgeous. The island is very touristy though - more than some of the others I've been to. The dance I'm thinking of was part of the welcoming ceremony. It occurs to me that despite being technically part of Melanesia, the dances of Fiji have much in common with Polynesian dances. There's that same emphasis on the word and the use of the arms and the hands.
ALICE: Where have you seen Polynesian dances?
LESBIAN: In New Zealand.
ALICE: Is New Zealand part of Polynesia?
LESBIAN: Yes.
ALICE: I didn't even realize.
FLETCHER: You assumed they were all tropical beaches.
LESBIAN: When I was on the islands of New Guinea and New Britain, I saw some very different dancing.
MS. JACKSON: Do tell.
– ACT I, lines 404-413
FLETCHER: Bigger than your husband.
LESBIAN: Or so I'm told. I didn't actually see them. What I saw was smaller: about six or seven feet. They had these big beaks and enormous eyes made from concentric circles: each circle colored differently from the next. They looked like crazed chickens dancing around like that. Of course, with masks so big, the focus turns to a dancer's legs, the swaying of his hips-
MS. JACKSON: And everything in between.
ALICE: Ms. Jackson!
LESBIAN: His arms are busy holding up the mask.
MS. JACKSON: I'm not surprised: making women do the work.
LESBIAN: I wonder if any Polynesians use a big mask. Would your cook know?
MS. JACKSON: Probably not. Where is my cook? Does she know the kitchen still needs cleaning?
FLETCHER: Why are you looking at me?
– ACT I, lines 424-432
FLETCHER: Oh, Money! God of first fruits! Bringer of knowledge! Harvester of truth! Where would Man be without thy cold kindness? Give me your hand. Let the lorikeets squeak out the rhythm of our steps. We'll dance a polonaise. I'll sashay you around the South Pacific. Who could prove to be a better partner? No man could be as faithful; no woman either. Even if she bleed by the moon, her temper is not as mild. Obedience notwithstanding, her character can seem, at times, positively restive. Feistiness is a woman's most vicious virtue. It can burn a man's pride even while it warms his heart. In truth, a man who marries money is liable to finding a bed so stiff the kingfisher would laugh. Without it, one would cry at night like the ghost bird. Thanks to money, nature is Man's slave. Weathering the vicissitudes of fortune, the wealthy man works the ground for as long as the ground does not work him. When that day comes, let's hope that our money has not defrauded us of our nature.
A story book full of short fiction stories. An interesting bedtime mystery. A fairy tale. Science fiction romance. Adult life. Uninspiring gay fiction. Horror.
Father walked in with Albert. They told us Christkindl had flown by. It was time to open presents. We gradually gathered ourselves together. You stayed on the couch. Indiana took Olympia out of her chair. Mother begged to take her. Indiana held her out. I watched Mother bounce the baby in her arms. She followed Grandmother out of the room. I turned to leave.
She wrapped her arms around my shoulders. Our foreheads touched. I put my hands on her bare knees. I rubbed her thighs. With each stroke, I circled wider. I went a little slower. I ventured deeper up her leg. I wondered when she would stop me. She didn't. My fingers brushed the edge of her panties. I drew back. I left my hands around her knees.
Indiana lifted her head. I looked up. She was staring into my eyes. She pecked me quickly on the lips. I had no time to pucker. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I've ruined your party."
Meanwhile at the bottom of the hill the professor was waving his arms in frustration. Mark turned into Profile Road and asked, "What's going on?" The professor was embarrassed. He didn't want to explain what he was doing. He said he had been trying to photograph some wildlife until the truck scared it off. Mark apologized.
Orbitz Number One left. Orbitz Número Dos took a long look at Orbitz Nombre Trois. "The radiation on that swab," he said. "It matches the molecular composition of the ship's engine. I'm the saboteur. The creature called me on the intercom right before the engine blew. She wanted to know why I locked her in the gallery. Except I didn't remember doing it."
Orbitz Nombre Trois gave Orbitz Número Dos a short glance. He looked back at the body. "You take the legs," he said. "I'll take the arms. We need to get him to port side airlock."
Orbitz Número Dos looked at the legs. He hoped for a moment that the body might disappear when he touched it. He suddenly wanted it to be a dream. "If I fail to save them," he said. "If I fall into the gas giant. How do I end up here?"
"The universe," said Orbitz Nombre Trois, "is full of wonders." He picked up his dead arms.
This table lists in descending order of frequency a selection of word pairs that appear in the Fiction Corpus and groups them according to the morphological derivation of the word arms that appears in the pair.
Type
WORD
Frequency
TOTAL # of occurences
MCDONALDS
JESUS
SEX
TSIGA
JACKSON
DINGBATS
modern/sloppy
biblical/terse
poetic/high-brow
hard/fast
talky
mixed salad
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
I have yet to perform a collocation analysis of "arms." I hope I can get it done sometime soon. -Michal
To promote democracy, the strong must empty themselves of their strength. The weak must be granted the opportunity to grow strong. We cannot force the end of patriarchy. To do so simply perpetuates feudalism under a different name.
Help me keep the "Arms" page...
If you love women and art...
Michal's exporting art...is he cuckoo?
Michal's Sales Pitch Lot 1: Silesian Handicrafts
T-shirt fundraiser for sale
Last T-Shirt with the logo that I designed.
From a set of, I believe, twenty produced by Margo and given out to a portion of the last 20 women to finish the 20th anniversary Fiat Road Race in Bielsko-Biała, cf. the movie. This is the last one left in it's original packaging and my supporters - like the poor women of Bielsko - are going to have to fight for it. Whoever invests the most money with me, and who lets me borrow it to invest in the next lot, will not only be rewarded with some beautiful piece of art, but will get this priceless t-shirt as a reward for being my top supporter. $1000.00 or best offer. Remember to authorize me to hold the sum as credit against a future purchase and to authorize me to borrow against it.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #1 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Felt handbag for sale
Felt bag by Dorota.
Entirely hand-sewn. Base: polyester felt, 100% PE. Motif: South American woolen yarn, dyed, 100% wool. Hand-worked with a needle. Unique and inimitable design. Inside: cotton fabric, closes with zipper, inside pocket. Available now for $220.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #2 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Decorative collar for sale
Decorative collar by Zuzanna.
Ethnic layered cloth jewelry constructed on a cotton base and adorned with ribbons, tassels, and a yellow fringe. Fastened on the side with 11 buttons, fitted entirely with a pleasant lining. The style is an Indo-Asian-African multinational color combination. The collar is very extravagant and an extraordinary addition to any clothing, guaranteed to attract attention. Just a simple dress and a unique image is ready. Dry-cleaning recommended. Available now for $200.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #3 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Seamless handbag for sale
Handbag by Sylwia.
Handmade from felted all-natural Australian and South American wool. Entirely felted, seamless. Finished with a white lining, inside is a small pocket. Lining is sewn and stitched in by hand. Available now for $180.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #4 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Patchwork quilt for sale
Patchwork quilt by Alicja.
Bedspread made of cotton and polyester material. Inserted with polyester lining. 90 by 70 cm. Available now for $120.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #5 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Nuno-felt shawl for sale
Shawl by Sylwia.
Scarf made with the nuno felting technique (wet felting fibre into a silk gauze) using South American wool. Two-sided scarf with latticework at the ends. Wholly in the colors red, black, green in an abstract pattern. Available now for $100.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #6 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Clara the doll for sale
Clara by Alicja.
Clara loves roses and greenery, adores tormenting spiders with long legs and sleeping soundly in the afternoon. Cuddly toy made of cotton and polyester, stuffed with polyester lining. Available now for $70.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #7 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Noah the doll for sale
Noah by Alicja.
Noah doesn't know what to like and what not to like but keeps wondering and thinking about it. Cuddly toy made of cotton and polyester, stuffed with polyester lining. Available now for $70.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #8 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Black suspenders for sale
Black suspenders by Zuzanna.
Two-sided suspenders from black material with a rose motif on one side and striped cotton on the other. Connected by a leather triangle. Adjustable length. Hand washing in cold water recommended. Available now for $50.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #9 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Orange suspenders for sale
Orange suspenders by Zuzanna.
Two-sided suspenders made of denim and orange material with a Polish floral folk design. Connected by a leather triangle. Adjustable length. Hand washing in cold water recommended. Available now for $50.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #10 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Green suspenders for sale
Green suspenders by Zuzanna.
Two-sided suspenders made of denim and green material with a mountain folk design. Connected by a leather triangle. Adjustable length. Hand washing in cold water recommended. Available now for $50.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #11 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Felt earrings for sale
Felt earrings by Dorota.
Material: South American woolen yarn, dyed, 100% wool. Hand-worked with a needle. Pendant of anti-allergenic metal. Available now for $40.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #12 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Round ceramic earrings for sale
Round ceramic earrings by Dorota.
Material: Glazed ceramics, hand-molded. Available now for $40.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #13 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
Oblong ceramic earrings for sale
Oblong ceramic earrings by Dorota.
Material: Glazed ceramics, hand-molded. Available now for $40.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #14 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
'Coral' necklace for sale
Corals by Sylwia.
Necklace made of cotton pieces with organdy and decorated with beads, suspended on cotton strings. Can be worn as a necklace, as a brooch or as a belt tied at the side. Available now for $40.00. Ships free of additional charge via USPS (uninsured) unless otherwise directed.
To purchase please mail a USPS money order in an envelope clearly marked Lot #1/Item #15 to M. Slaby at house number 201 on Ridge Road in the town of West Milford, in the state of New Jersey, one of the beautiful United States of America. The postal code is 07480-3112.
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