Michal's meditating on the viability of compounding his awe-inspiring Fiction Corpus with a biography of his favorite fictional character; cites fatigue
Posted:
I accept the idea of utilizing English as an international standard. I don't have faith in the vapid modus operandi by which the English language is presented for study.
Boosting a person's dexterity with a language isn't like launching a more incorruptible banknote. A language - a living language - isn't just a tool that you can teach yourself to wield with a greater amount of precision. A living tongue can not be segmented from the competing values of a clan of people 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.
Teaching a student to recite English is to strip her of its cultural context. A good instructor must develop a plan for introducing it; the smartest student ventures out to seek it.
A dictionary can be an influential tool. A decent dictionary will describe words based on a specific corpus, a set of written language of various scope and consistency. A corpus can contain anything from a book about literature to some real adult fiction stories. I developed my "majestic" Fiction Corpus to form a special sort 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 drawn up a million words and I have diagnosed them, reformulating them - not merely to teach a language but to defend the human soul, and to goad that soul or spirit 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...
By the end of my first week in Europe in 2011, I had bought a car and out of the blue had met the woman who would join me on a 6,000 mile trek across the European continent, sharing the beat-up car that I had bought and the one small tent from Walmart that I had brought along with me on my flight.
As an artist, from the beginning of my adult career, my work had been devoted to the problem of body acceptance, a goal that I would later learn was shared by a whole community of people called naturists, a humble portion of which I discovered residing in Poland, a country whose cultural conservatism does not lend itself readily to forward thinking. One of those forward-thinking Polish naturists happened to be Margo.
Though I was born in Europe, I had been brought up from a young age in America, living in states as diverse as Nebraska, Ohio and Connecticut. I was taught American values and saw reality from an American perspective. She was born and raised in a village in Poland. She went to work in the nearest town. The nearest city seemed like the center of the world. The American perspective was not something she was ever planning to see.
I've never gone hungry without deserving it. I've never been systemically beaten by a parent. I've never been fondled by a priest. That doesn't mean I can't listen to somebody who has had to experience such abuse and it doesn't mean I can't try to understand. Margo and I traveled 6,000 miles together. We slept in the same tent. We had to listen to each other. A person shouldn't need 6,000 miles to do it. We should be able to listen to each other just because we want to. We should've been taught to do it. If we haven't been taught, we should be learning how to do it and learning fast.
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 Music
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 music in some kind of way.
If you want to communicate an idea using the word music, 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 music is located in the fabric of a language, the better you will be at exploiting its cultural power.
Pronunciation of Music
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the word music.
Video of me pronouncing "music."
Definition of Music
The term music refers either to an artifact composed of aesthetically arranged sound waves or to an artifact used in the production of such sound waves, especially some form of record in which those sound waves are documented. It can also refer to a kind of artifact or person associated with these waves.
Common use of music in illustrative example sentences
I have yet to come up with a third sentence using the word music.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a fourth sentence using the word music.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a fifth sentence using the word music.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a sixth sentence using the word music.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a seventh sentence using the word music.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
Usage of Music 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 music.
That doesn't mean it's not high on my list.
Table of Frequency for the Word "Music."
This table lists in descending order the total number of times that the word musicand 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 music, 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 #5837
theres a party in harley's building. with music. and people dancing in the light of a floating bonfire. goddamn fogokkers found a new idol.
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.
He moved two steps. The door opened. Turning around, I saw myself in the mirror. I lowered my weapon. Hurry up, Stalin - I thought to myself - I'm a sitting duck. I thought I heard a drawer open, but then I thought: it was just the door. I heard the faint sounds of music. DO IT NOW it whispered. The mirror moved. In it, I saw the flash of a raising arm. I turned and dodged.
When the chairman of the board of Poland's largest petroleum dealer was arrested by the Office of the Protection of the State, it was big news. What was even bigger news was the fact that the Prime Minister and his colleagues had immediately appointed a new chairman of the board just so that chairman could sign a deal with two naturalized Polish citizens from the Ukraine, who, as 'former musicians,' had founded a company with five-thousand dollars in start-up capital and had succeeded in making that business the most powerful petroleum broker in the East. The fact that these two Ukrainians now had an iron-tight hold on Poland's petroleum imports, all of which were coming from the Russian Federation, was the biggest news of all. People were convinced that these two 'former Ukrainian musicians' were, in fact, Russian spies.
Most importantly, we gained a culture of wealth. Music, art and poetry must have a cost. The higher the cost, the better the art. After all, musicians need instruments, sculptors need rock, and poets need to travel. They must be well fed, and thus the Golden Age of each and every nation has been built on gold. Poeta nascitur, et fit. Alexander was made on the slopes of Mount Pangaion. Poland's Golden Age was built on grain, traveling by raft or barge - or even (in the case of a real entrepreneur) by skiff - down the great Vistula River, which took its golden rye by twists and turns and dangerous spring waters into the great city of Danzig. The great age of mercantilism it was! Renaissance of trade and culture! In Poland, safeguarded by the great magnates and latifundia: may they come to reign again! This time, with machines!
"It's picking up a delayed shipment of arms from a factory outside of Brno." He checked the schedule again. "By way of Hradec Králové, where it's picking up musical instruments for the band."
"She's an alcoholic," she said. "People have seen her drunk all the time - and yet, they don't understand how bad it is. It's really bad. When I would come home, I would find her lying on the stairs, passed out, soaked in her own urine. It's disgusting - and I'm the one who has to clean it up. My father doesn't do it. I'm the one who has to do it. 'Zoe, Zoe, help your mother.' He's never been a father to me. The only time he needs me is when Momma's found herself in some kind of trouble - when she's in public: when she takes the dog out 'for a walk' and comes back drunk. She hides bottles of liquor in the bushes. Why? Because I would always empty them out and fill them with water. 'Please, Momma, don't drink' - but she doesn't listen. She only tells me never to get married. She's mad at my father for having made her have children - can you believe that? She tells me that she never wanted to have children. I'm her daughter for crying out loud. I don't want to hear that: it's depressing. My father forced her to have me? Alright: maybe - if he raped her. But did he force her to abandon music? I don't think so. I think she chose that. I think she regrets it now - that's what it is. My father's only her excuse. She drives him insane. I think he's turning alcoholic too. He beats her sometimes - when he's mad. I used to cry, but now I think she deserves it. She's a terrible mother.
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.
"Madame," I said, "your servant awaits," giving her a short bow.
"Will you play the first scherzo for me?" she asked. Then she devilishly smiled.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 3, The Third Day, Part 2, Prayer & The Reformation, Section 13, The Role of Music, Paragraphs 1-2
Then began the intermezzo - the meditation - and I listened: the prostitute's internal struggle made music. I was intoxicated. I was rolling my head around. I heard nothing but music; I must have smelled a tear - something made me look at Indiana; something made me see that she was crying. I was concerned.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 13, Apprehension, Paragraph 3, Clauses 1-5
There was no crisis to focus her, nothing to concentrate her diffusive awareness, no menacing problems to solve, real or imagined. And suffering this deficiency, she was a prisoner of her own manic interest, which only gives her temporary fixations, like her concern for my lack of music, which lasted long enough for her to alleviate my problem, but which was not strong enough to bring Indiana out from her social stupor: she was able to remain blissfully unaware of my extra labor: the share of work that she was unconsciously neglecting. But that only meant that everything was normal. There was no undue stress on the poor woman, and I was grateful.
Meanwhile, I began fiddling with the radio. But Indiana was right: there was no reception. Unless I stood exactly five feet away to the northeast, which caused a sort of rhythmic droning, there was nothing but pure static across the band. So I had to paint in silence until Indiana's return. It was nerve-racking. But when she came back, she brought with her two CDs, and this explanation: "You know what? The music store was closed: the man who works there was out to lunch. Can you believe that? Good thing we are moving to London. But: I went to the consignment shop, and they have a lot of old CDs there. So I found you two CDs that are not opera, but very close. This one is by the Vienna State Opera Orchestra, and they are playing 'National Anthems of the World,' and this one is by nobody I know, but it's called 'Soap Opera's Favorite Wedding Music.' So there you go."
After thanking her, I told Indiana I remembered giving Albert a CD for Christmas not so long ago. "Yes," she said, "the Rusalka. He really likes it. But I don't know where it is. I wish I had time to look for it." Sure enough, when I opened the carousel, there she was: Renée Fleming and the Czech Philharmonic. I cursed myself for not checking earlier. But then I had to brace myself, and prepare my fragile psyche to endure the back-to-back sounds of Dvořák, National Anthems of the World, and best of all, Soap Opera's Favorite Wedding Music - all in heavy rotation. By the end of that first day of painting, I was crazier than Indiana could ever be. I was singing to the moon, high up in the deep sky: mĕsíčku na nebi hlubokém, formez vos bataillons! marchons! marchons to the alter!
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.
One day, the embassy hosted a concert. A family of Kyrgyz musicians performed. Shephard took a liking to one of the daughters. He asked her if he could get her a drink. She didn't seem to understand. He asked, "Govorish po russki?"
One bright afternoon, Ferrari's stepmother lay naked in her husband's bed. Her tired stepson lay next to her. He was listening to the noisy skylarks. She cuddled up next to him. She started nursing him back to life.
Ferrari was preoccupied. With a slightly mournful whisper, his stepmother said, "We found out who cut down the cherry tree." Ferrari thought he could hear the song of a river nightingale.
Years passed. The good Baron Burana tried, with his peers, to get the Queen to marry a Bourbon count. The forty-year-old monarch's chief minister-and lover, as was claimed-was being too pushy. The Bourbon proved worse; after marrying the Queen, he tried to get himself crowned. The barons revolted; the insufferable French left-only to reappear under a Valois Duke, invited by the Pope, who had excommunicated the Queen for not coming to his aid. She, in turn, adopted another Frank, the King of Aragon, as her heir.
Ferrari's pride was hurt. A flautist was not as prestigious as a trumpeter. At least it kept him close to the condottiero. It seemed like a safe place to be. Practicing music was better than the usual military drills. Ferrari worked while everybody else danced, but his hands were kept cool and clean. Ferrari threw himself into his new profession. He mastered the pipe and tabor, the fiffaro, and the eight-holed flaut.
Peace arrived in Naples. Condotierri moved north. Ferrari, sick of war and disillusioned with its bitter-sweet fruits, went south. He was in the mood for love. He possessed new skills in the art of music. He was young and handsome. More importantly, he was a veteran.
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.
LUKE: Good question.
FLETCHER: You'd better think it over. There's nothing like a walkabout to clear one's mind.
LUKE: That's the good oil. Fletch: you're a hell of an offsider.
FLETCHER: Thanks. Listen: if you do decide on doing some business, here's the procedure. Do you see that music box? It's the only thing from the family hut that survived the fire. Once it's opened, it will play a tune. Put the money inside. Kokomo will know what to do. She'll thank you for it.
LUKE: It'll have been my pleasure.
FLETCHER: Enjoy your walk.
(LUKE exits.)
– ACT I, lines 791-796
LUKE: I don't want to be the one spillin' secrets, but you might as well know. It all started when her grandmother was raped by the Japanese on Western Samoa.
LESBIAN: During the war?
LUKE: Whenever it was that they occupied the island.
LESBIAN: The Japanese never occupied Western Samoa. They did have plans to invade, but Midway changed all that. They tried to capture Port Moresby instead. Unfortunately for them, what they thought was a motor track turned out to be a mule trail, one which no Australian had dared traverse in over twenty years. They say the Japanese soldiers eventually turned to cannibalism. I thought about doing the hike myself. Five days is a bit much. The dry season was ending. I decided against it.
LUKE: Are you saying the Japanese never invaded Western Samoa?
LESBIAN: I was on Tarawa in the Gilbert Islands. That was as far as they got. You must be confused.
LUKE: I'm not confused; I'm sheepish. It wouldn't be the first time.
LESBIAN: The music box is missing. It looks as though another heirloom's been stolen.
LUKE: I'm not the one who took it: that's for sure. See you at the airport, mate.
– ACT II, lines 574-582
(A tune plays while LUKE places the money inside the music box. LUKE climbs into bed.)
LESBIAN: What is going on? What are you doing here?
LUKE: What am I doing here?
– ACT II, lines 310-311
(GREY GOOSE climbs into bed. LUKE enters in a rush.)
LUKE: Oh, krikey! Fletcher wasn't kiddin'. I guess the sofa bed's as good a place as any. Time to slip 'em both the ol' snag. Where's that music box?
– ACT II, lines 309-309
ALICE: (off) You gave them a three-thousand-dollar tip?
(FLETCHER exits with the music box. ALICE and LUKE enter carrying luggage.)
LUKE: What's wrong with that?
ALICE: Are you an idiot?
LUKE: I had a pretty nice stay.
ALICE: You said that in Bali after they bombed the restaurant.
LUKE: Honestly, fried rice never tasted better.
ALICE: And at that hotel where the hot plate was in the bathroom.
LUKE: I could make tea while I was on the john.
ALICE: And in Brisbane - where they didn't have a shower curtain and they didn't bring us one after I asked the maid about ten thousand times - I had to go and get one myself after I almost slipped and killed myself on the bathroom floor - what did you do then? You tipped that girl five hundred dollars.
A story book full of short fiction stories. An interesting bedtime mystery. A fairy tale. Science fiction romance. Adult life. Uninspiring gay fiction. Horror.
Indiana's unsolicited effort to inform, her continuous concern for speaking, that pressing aural nightmare which persists even after you've pledged to avoid its acoustical tyranny, that vocal plying, that musical stream of input once you've gotten used to it, that involuntary sickness betrayed something deliberately hushed, waiting in the dark, reaching for somebody's arm, whispering its presence as she punctuated her sentences, turning her head to stare vacantly past a shoulder for a moment to catch her breath, before turning once more to speak. It seemed like the panic of an animal who knows it's about to be eaten. It was tinged with a growing sense of resignation.
Indiana fell silent. Nobody felt compelled to speak. Music played softly in the dark room. I started to dream. Images drifted into my head. Frame by frame, they told a strange story.
At some tender age Steve O had happened upon a backstage drama on TV. This was followed by a backstage musical. Then a backstage comedy. In each instance there was a character of an actor played by an attractive actor who despite having duties ostensibly onstage was preoccupied to the almost complete exclusion of everything else with an actress played by an attractive actress. This was Steve O's cue.
I swatted away my mother's hand. Like I would a bug. That's when she threw the remote control. It was the prelude to an all out attack. All of a sudden I was in middle school again. The wimpy Indian kid I had made fun of in music class had come to punch me in the face again. No pain. Just shock at the sheer audacity of it.
If my wife had been present during the incident she would've been on my side. Instead she's against me. All because of a four letter word. Rape.
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 music 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 "music." I hope I can get it done sometime soon. -Michal
If a 45-year-old businesswoman and hard working mother of three kids is going to pose nude for a calendar, it's gonna have to be a good one. Margo didn't start a coffee shop called the Vagina Cafe to win her favors from the establishment. Even as she dishes out prizes to the 20 women who placed last in the twentienth anniversary run of her town's biggest road race, her business, unlike everyone else, doesn't get mentioned. She was an official sponsor for Christ's sake! But the announcer just couldn't swallow his patriarchy and get the words "Vagina Cafe" out of his mouth. That's not something a proper gentleman would say in front of a crowd of humble God-fearing "ladies" who cherish their modesty! And a Body Acceptance Calendar is certainly not what a humble God-fearing book-seller like a Barnes and Noble would put on their shelves! So how do I expect to sell this in the mainstream? Maybe if you download the free versions a thousand billion times it might help. Start downloading.
Help keep the "Music" page alive...
If you love women and art...
Michal is importing art...is he crackers?
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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