Michal refuses to weigh the thought of amplifying his colossal Fiction Corpus with an essay on free art; cites fatigue
Posted:
I don't question the potential of exercising English as a universal standard. I don't trust in the prosaic routine with which the English tongue is taught.
Refining one's dexterity with a language isn't like bringing about a brighter pigment. A language - a spoken language - isn't just a tool that you can teach yourself to manipulate with greater amounts of precision. A shared tongue can't be uncoupled from the shared logic of a tribe 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.
To make a student recite English is to deprive her of its cultural context. A proper educator has to have a blueprint for introducing it; the discerning student goes out to seek it.
A dictionary can be an influential tool. A decent dictionary will describe a language on the basis of a particular corpus, a body of writing of various size and consistency. A corpus might contain anything from a book about literature to a lot of novels. I suffered many a sleepless night laboring on my "overwhelming" Fiction Corpus to form a new 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 drawn up a million words and I have anatomized them, reformulating them - not just to teach an American language but to defend the human soul, and to pressure that spirit or soul not just to recite but to happen.
Michal's Dictionary: Understanding the word Window
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 window in some kind of way.
If you want to communicate an idea using the word window, 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 window is located in the fabric of a language, the better you will be at exploiting its cultural power.
Pronunciation of Window
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the word window.
Video of me pronouncing "window."
Definition of Window
I have yet to publish the definition of window.
I'm sure it won't take too long.
Common use of window in illustrative example sentences
I have yet to come up with a third sentence using the word window.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a fourth sentence using the word window.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a fifth sentence using the word window.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a sixth sentence using the word window.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a seventh sentence using the word window.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
Usage of Window 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 window.
That doesn't mean it's not high on my list.
Table of Frequency for the Word "Window."
This table lists in descending order the total number of times that the word windowand 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 window, 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 #873
i have to find out what chase is doing. if only i could just go up to the window.
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.
Later that day, Jesus's parents were visiting the girl's family. They were vacationing in a small cottage near the river. Jesus had realized, after a long and exhaustive thought process, that the girl's father had shouted something at him to distract him from the race, thereby allowing his daughter to win. Seeking revenge, Jesus went to the cottage, and, using the outside latch on the screen door, which prevented it from falling open, he locked everyone inside. The girl had to climb out a window and scratch her knee before the door was opened.
Unfortunately, the castle in question wasn't really a true castle but something called a 'villa castle.' Incorporating certain castle-like elements, like a tower and rose window (or something like that), it was really just a mansion, or, more accurately, an apartment building.
"Here," said the Krupnik, "hold onto the keys if you want." Throwing him the keys, the Krupnik opened his door, got himself out, slammed the door shut, and left Jesus very nervous. Jesus clung to his weapon like a limpet clings to a rock. Nothing was around: nothing but darkness and rays of moonlight - in which, after a brief moment, Jesus glimpsed...the boy: the juvenile: the underdeveloped, disproportioned, ungainly boy, who had sat on a bullet-ridden police car's hood, dangling his too-long legs in front of a dead policeman's body. What a strange boy: walking towards the car: Jesus watched his approach in the side-view mirror. What was he up to? What did he want? He came up to the side of the car, bent over and began staring into the passenger-side window. After a moment, he tapped. Jesus rolled down the window.
When they got to the crypt, all the doors were closed. Through the windows, Jesus saw his mother's monument: flambeaus were lit; bouquets were still fresh. 'Christ conquers death,' said the ribands. Jesus stopped crying: the stone slab was firmly in place - he was grateful, having dreaded the possibility of jumping into his mother's crypt and opening her coffin.
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.
Of course, my family disapproved of everything, even though my cousin succeeded so fabulously in making a fool of himself. He was too desperate for something beautiful, which she was, indeed; but our Stefan was not the first to notice, and he didn't know that she already had two children. It's an old story, Macy, but, unfortunately, the romantic versions are dead; they are buried in mounds of literature. Damsels are still in distress, but they are more often subject to their own greed than to the greed of their fathers. True love has lost its footing; it no longer waits by the windowsill: the tower has fallen down."
Or did we dream those people? Could they really exist in the shadow of an empire's capital? Have they always been dreams? the kind that vanish quickly when morning's promise comes glittering through the window, reassuring us of the value of progress, warmly reminding us that today we may die but (God damn it!) we will die a little richer.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 2, The Second Day, Part 1, Labor & Economic Reform, Section 7, Being Pessimistic, Paragraph 1, Clauses 4-5
NIKE: Fucking goddamn. Hey! Stop! Luka! What the fuck? Stop the car!
INDIE: What the hell's goin' on?
NIKE: What are you doin'? Roll down the fucking window.
How noble! until, of course, Indiana throws something very heavy at Albert's head, causing him to duck, which causes the object to crash through the window, causing Albert to turn around, look at the broken window and curse, turning back on his beautiful wife just in time for a bottle to catch him in the forehead, causing him to curse even louder, and, if this were not enough to make your valiant effort hopeless, poor Albert, threatened with further assault, is forced into the music room where he must beg you, Andrea, to defend him against his crazy wife, which you do, successfully, causing Indiana to run upstairs and leaving you with the option of doing nothing at all, or, offering your apartment to Albert, which you do, successfully.
"Keep your eyes open, Luka - and look for that woman! I have to find her no matter what it takes." Nike took a long, deep drag. His lungs held it for a while, for a very good, long while. "Marc. Oh, man. Luka: please park in a good place," Nike said, exhaling. "We have to find her." But Luka said nothing. Rothko was now smoking, so Nike looked out the window at the freak show. How disgusting, he thought. And then he took another drag of opium: a short one. Then Rothko had one more drag, and they were done, the rest being left for Luka, the unfortunate chauffeur. His passengers were already relaxing, but he was still looking for a good place to park, and finally, stopping in a good spot, he turned around and took the pipe.
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.
"The Honorable Carmina Burana," the other man hastened to add.
"I've never seen a chair like this," said Ferrari. "It looks like a box with windows."
"The Baron asks us to carry her Ladyship to and from the Bishop's palace in this chair."
"As you can see," said the other man, "there are two poles for us to hold it. One of them has broken."
Positioning himself over a pool window, Patsy prayed. "Please, God, let somebody see me." Everybody was swimming breast stroke. "Are you kidding me?" cried Patsy. "After all the stroking I've done for you, this is how you repay me? Sidestroke! Why isn't that more popular?"
Ferrari, back to his senses, approached the window and rapped lightly on the frame. "Your Majesty," he whispered-his impertinence had only grown-"I would carry you up the Oxus River to Prester Miles's palace on the highest peak of the Hindu-Kush. Though I would place you before his lapis throne and feed you grapes, if I am even to carry you home to your chamber, I must ask of you one thing."
Carmina pulled the curtain. Gracefully cocking her head, she whispered, "You are a shameless young man."
His fingers found the loop. His hands curled around it. He could afford to maneuver. Crawling like an inch worm with his buttcheeks, Patsy made it all the way to the barbershop window. He realized it was Monday. "Of course," he thought. "The barbershop is closed on Monday. How disappointing."
The window was too thick. He banged it with his fist. It hurt. He banged again. It was useless. He tried banging with both hands. The cable gave way. Patsy began screeching slowly towards the edge. It hurt a lot. Lifting his leg to assuage the burning, he dropped even faster. By the time he lifted his arm, his feet were dangling over. He made his peace with God.
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.
FLETCHER: I lost my virginity to a married woman. Her husband was abroad - had been for several months. She did plan on joining him, but she loved sex - she admitted it - more than she loved her husband. Then again, I didn't really know the man. Maybe he was the same way. Maybe he was a scoundrel. Some women are just crazy. I was doing work on her balcony at the time. She would undress in front of me through the window. She even let me watch her masturbate. I was around eighteen years old. She was forty. I had no idea what to do. I couldn't do anything, anyway. I was surrounded by my crewmates. When we finished, we packed up and we left. I didn't see her for several weeks. In due course, we bumped into each other at one of the local pubs. She asked me how I was doing. I told her I was fine. I bought her a few drinks. She asked me to take her home. I did. On her front porch, as she was removing her keys from her pocket, she dropped something.
ALICE: A condom.
FLETCHER: How did you know?
ALICE: I guessed.
FLETCHER: Is that something you've done?
ALICE: I've never done it. I assume, if you want to get your point across, that's the most powerful way.
FLETCHER: It's true. I couldn't help myself. I had to go up to her room.
ALICE: Did you like it?
FLETCHER: I loved it - as it was happening. When we were finished, I felt as dirty as a pig. She wanted me to come every Wednesday afternoon like clockwork.
A story book full of short fiction stories. An interesting bedtime mystery. A fairy tale. Science fiction romance. Adult life. Uninspiring gay fiction. Horror.
That night Proctor was woken by a noise. He came downstairs to find an open window. The curtains were blowing in the wind. He heard the sound of a table being nudged along the floor. He drew his gun. With bated breath he inched towards the nearest light switch. He flipped it on. A raccoon jerked its head. Its eyes glowing. Proctor shut the light. He waited in silence for what seemed like hours. There was no one.
Back home one day I was watching some random movie from the eighties. My father walks in. He looks at the screen and says, "That's the movie your mother was in." I asked him what the hell he was talking about. He told me to rewind to the part where the big name star is arguing in the streets. Sure enough my mother is in the background standing silently staring through a window.
Proctor spent a sleepless night at the station. The next day he was questioned for hours by an FBI consultant. In the evening he snuck out. He made his way to John's apartment. He had to wait. John was under protective custody. When it was dark Proctor climbed up the fire escape. He tapped on John's window.
John appeared. He opened the window. "Thank God," he said. "I didn't know what happened to you." He helped Proctor inside. He started kissing him.
John nodded. "Unless he got another one." Proctor was already out the door. He called the policeman up. He passed him on the stairs. When he heard the door to the hallway shut he went back up a flight. To the floor below John's apartment. He found the right door. He kicked it open. Inside stood the shadow of a bed. A desk. John went to the window. He opened the curtains. He started rummaging through the drawers. He didn't have to look for long. "Dear beloved," said a letter. It listed the names of the victims. Starting with Emily.
On the next day one of the old men was back. I asked him to come inside but he stayed at the window. He wanted to know where I was from. I gave him a brief history of my country and we started arguing over European aid to Africa and whether the Soviet Union was right to have ever been there. It seemed like no matter what I said I was wrong. At least the man treated me like a civil human being. Until he got angry with me and left. I went back to teaching my imaginary class.
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 window 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 "window." I hope I can get it done sometime soon. -Michal
It's natural to hide dirty things. They're embarrassing. But we need to keep in mind that when we hide things that are difficult, we make them seem dirty when they're really something else entirely. And when we keep things that are easy in plain sight, we make them seem clean when they really aren't. That is dangerous.
Help support the "Window" page alive...
If you love women and art...
Michal is importing Polish 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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