Michal is considering the prospect of complementing his trivial Fiction Corpus with a biography of nobel award winners; cites fatigue
Posted:
I have faith in the concept of exercising English as a worldwide language. I don't have faith in the pedantic strategy by which English is presented for study.
Fine-tuning one's adeptness with a language isn't like pioneering a smoother paper. A language - a spoken language - is not merely an instrument that you can teach yourself to use with greater amounts of precision. A language cannot be insulated from the prevailing culture 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 person recite English is to strip her of its cultural context. A good educator has to have a strategy for introducing it; the prudent pupil ventures out to seek it.
A dictionary has the potential to be an influential tool. The best dictionaries define words on the basis of a particular corpus, a set of written works of various size and consistency. They might contain everything from a book about literature to some really short funny stories. I watched many nights pass forging my "titanic" Fiction Corpus in order to form a distinct sort of dictionary based on the ability of one man to tell a story in many different forms. It is a labor of love and listening.
I have pieced together a million words and I have deconstructed them, reframing them - not just to teach the English language but to defend the human spirit, and to coax 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...
Europe, the summer of 2011. Twelve countries. 46 days. One car. One tent. One man. One woman he's just met.
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.
I had grown up in America. Land of opportunity. I came of age in the booming 90s when everything was possible. She had grown up in Poland. She had come of age at a time when the Soviets were making sure that there wasn't even anything to eat in the country. I couldn't even properly translate the word "opportunity" into Polish.
Despite the cops in Vienna. Despite the rain in Veržej. Despite getting lost in Italy. Despite parting at Soest. Despite that night in Amsterdam. Despite our fight in Lisieux. Despite the storm in the Bois de la Roche. Despite that terrible morning outside Collonges. Despite the long road to Pielenhofen, we came back safe and sound and most importantly we were happy. We had started to learn how to listen. We had left the devils of the road behind and the devils ahead seemed just a little bit smaller. We had started to open up.
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 Breasts
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 breasts in some kind of way.
If you want to communicate an idea using the word breasts, 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 breasts is located in the fabric of a language, the better you will be at exploiting its cultural power.
Pronunciation of Breasts
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the word breasts.
Video of me pronouncing "breasts."
Definition of Breasts
Breasts are a fuel that female mammals use to maintain health and growth in offspring. They are also an artifact present in non-mammals that are usually encountered detached from the rest of a body, shrink-wrapped and placed in a refrigeration unit. They are sometimes fetishized to mean a desirable toy, though not as often as other words that denote the same fuel.
Common use of breasts in illustrative example sentences
I have yet to come up with a fourth sentence using the word breasts.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a fifth sentence using the word breasts.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a sixth sentence using the word breasts.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a seventh sentence using the word breasts.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
Usage of Breasts 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 breasts.
That doesn't mean it's not high on my list.
Table of Frequency for the Word "Breasts."
This table lists in descending order the total number of times that the word breastsand 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 breasts, 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 #3828
it was pandora. no doubt. i could recognize her from a mile away. her hips. her breasts. her underbite. it was her. that bitch.
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.
"You know what? I was almost fourteen years old by the time I got my first bra - by the time I even knew what a bra was: how pathetic! - and it wasn't because I didn't need one before that. I was going around clutching my breasts in pain. I was thirteen years old: I didn't know what a bra was, and my breasts hurt. One of my father's friends finally said, 'Zoe, why are you holding your breasts like that? Don't you have a bra?' No: my mother is a drunk and a failed mother.
That night, Jesus and Zoe almost made love. Getting into bed, Jesus kissed her on the mouth. Zoe went wild. Rolling around, they kissed, pushed, pulled, hugged and squeezed. Zoe removed Jesus's clothes. She saw the tattooed Christogram upon his chest. She was sitting astride Jesus's waist. Pulling up her shirt, Jesus brought her back to attention. She removed it: she removed her shirt! and her bra and pulled Jesus up against her chest. Squeezing tightly, Jesus smelled the beautiful strength upon her breasts and kissed them. He pushed her down to the side of the bed and she spread her legs. Jesus mounted her and he was ready to do it, but there was too much: too much whirling around in his head: too much at stake: his destiny, his word, Zeus on Mars, and this half-Martian, half-Japanese creature in his bed, waiting to be fucked! Something was wrong. Jesus wanted her. He wanted to love this woman but not now: not here: not like this. This would have to wait. Jesus was quickly losing steam. The thought that Zoe must have prepared for this - must be taking contraceptives (there was no way she was looking to conceive) - was the occasion that finally prompted Jesus to cease rubbing himself up and down your mother's wet and fully engorged vulva.
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.
The black veil atop her head. The under-veil of white. The linen wimple. The stiff crown. The creature holding her arms back, baring her breasts. Alarmed? Preparing to run? Stay. Show that black and pleated guimpe, falling proudly across your shoulders: broad, stiff, clear-finished: a powerful serge from the fibers of a noble sheep. The chevron weave pointed down.
Where was the tunic? The woman's breasts peeked out from either side of her scapular. Black, lustrous satin. If it had squeezed itself between her cleavage, I would have plucked it out.
Meanwhile, the bitch, who had jumped onto the litter to play with her madam's breasts, now jumped off and approached him. She was very excited. She would skip around on her toes. Sometimes, she would stand in place and jump up and down. Then, she would take a moment to glare at Nike, then suddenly bare her teeth. She would hiss very loudly.
I wondered how many children she had suckled. She had a nice waist - with tremendous hips. The woman must have borne many children. I wondered if she were married. I wondered if she were loved. I imagined how sweetly I could make love to her. She was incredibly sexy with those big, bubbly breasts, with her exquisite fleshiness.
In my mind, I removed her thin sweater. I caressed her large hips and fondled her breasts. I was a child: in love with flesh, I loved playing with it, often getting tired of it, inevitably going back to it. There was an Asian woman sitting next to the white one. She must have been very young. She was small and almost pretty.
I imagined her naked. She was prettier that way, with her tiny breasts and her little hips. I saw the contrast between the two women. In my mind, I watched as they made love. I looked away.
As soon as we were done eating breakfast, we left for the hospital. We took the red line to Bond Street. We waited for a train to Stratford. We were taking the Jubilee line. On the train, the girls found a place to sit down. I stood by the center of the opposite aisle. There was a white woman sitting in front of me. She had a beautiful face and round, pendulous breasts. They were perfect for suckling.
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.
"You go. Bring me some clothes. I don't want the others to see me naked."
"Don't be afraid," said Bei. Her breasts dripped like immense cloth sacks straining a whole week's worth of doufu. They sagged below her belly button. "Jump in." She turned to follow Kung up the side of the rocks.
Bo caressed the back of Tae's head. She whispered, "I know." She gazed at the paddies they had made. The hills stretched into the distance like the breasts of sleeping giants. To her, they represented the men who perished under her care. They were the men who judged her for it. They were the men who sent her to this land, so far removed in time and space from everything she had ever known.
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.
"Breasts" does not make an appearance in Sorry Miss Jackson.
A story book full of short fiction stories. An interesting bedtime mystery. A fairy tale. Science fiction romance. Adult life. Uninspiring gay fiction. Horror.
I checked the clock. Thirty seconds to midnight. I dropped the keys. I unbuttoned my sweater. I tore it off. I threw it towards the couch. I pulled up my dress. I twisted out of it. I dropped it. I brushed down the straps of my bra. I reached back. I wrenched apart the clasp. My breasts bounced free. I dropped the bra. I rolled down my tights. I almost tripped. I yanked them off. I shoved down my panties. They fell to my feet. I pulled one leg out. My toes got caught. I flapped them around. They were loose. I kicked the panties behind me.
I gave him the coldest stare I could muster. "Old Austrian custom," I whispered. I walked away. I washed my face and hands in the bathroom. I noticed the lay of my breasts. I wondered if Indiana would see. What would she think? I considered telling her what happened. It wouldn't be appropriate. I would have to fish my clothes out from behind the love seat.
The librarian found Grendel crying. She asked Grendel what the matter was but Grendel wouldn't say. She kept clutching her breasts and wincing. The librarian told Grendel to come back the next day. She would have something for her.
Grendel went to the library after school. She found a book about bodies. It had pictures of naked girls in it. One girl looked like her. The others were taller. They were standing next to a woman with fat breasts. There were pictures of boys too. Each one hairier than the next. Grendel's heart leapt into her throat. She quickly put the book away.
It was too late. Guests were back in the room. I picked up the keys I dropped. My breasts were filling out my dress like curd in cheesecloth. I rushed towards my sweater. Nike sat on its edge. I had to pull it out from underneath him. We exchanged the evil eye. Nike smiled.
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 breasts 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 "breasts." I hope I can get it done sometime soon. -Michal
Life is a spinning sphere with Joy at one pole and Sadness at the other. Each continuously feeding its pair. Joy flanked by the emotions of Trust on one side, Surprise on the other. Trust leading to Anticipation; anticipation leading to Fear. Surprise leading to Disgust; disgust leading to Anger. Anger and Fear fueling our Sadness. Sadness giving way, in time, to Joy; through Hope, an orientation towards Love. Love, an openness towards Joy, Trust and Surprise; the sum of emotion; emotion amplified by others. Multiplied and divided, in equal parts. Such that to those from whom it has been subtracted, we must add. Until we are whole.
Your purchases keep the "Breasts" page up and running...
If you love women and art...
Michal's exporting Polish art...is he certifiable?
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.