Michal refuses to contemplate the potency of expanding his immense Fiction Corpus with a history of art work; cites fatigue
Posted:
I don't doubt the potential of upholding English as a universal standard. I do reject the unexciting program by which the English tongue is taught.
Reinforcing one's dexterity with a language isn't like pioneering a brighter pigment. A language is not merely an instrument that you can learn to exploit with a greater amount of precision. A shared tongue cannot be disentangled from the philosophical currents 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 find a way to introduce it; the bravest pupil goes out to seek it.
A dictionary can be an influential tool. The best dictionaries define words on the basis of a particular corpus, a body of written language of varying scope and consistency. Such a corpus can include everything from a book about literature to a set of really inspiring stories. I burnt many candles laboring on my "outsized" Fiction Corpus to form a special type 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 fashioned a million words and I have codified them, reframing them - not just to teach an American language but to defend the human spirit, and to encourage 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...
One week after arriving in Europe, I met a woman in the sauna on the ground floor of the large villa she shared with her ex-husband. Four weeks later she was sharing a small rain-soaked tent with me in Vienna, our little gas-fired stove barely capable of boiling a cup of water. It wasn't until we reached Croatia that we decided to invest in a large electric kettle. It was quite the luxury and it made me very happy.
As an artist inspired by a young woman's struggle with self-esteem and bulimia, body acceptance had always featured prominently in my aesthetic. Having recently discovered naturism and its mantra of body acceptance in the United States, I was eager to explore the style and philosophy of naturist clubs and the beauty of naturist campsites in Europe. By a trick of fate, I found myself first in Bielsko-Biała, Poland. Margo's home.
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.
There were times during our trip when I thought there might not be a happy ending. There were times when disaster was close and I wondered whether I hadn't made a mistake. I wondered whether fear, anger or sadness might triumph and one of us would have to finished the journey alone. Though I dangled from the cliffs of Normady I was saved. Though the lights went out I rode on. Though I ran the tires down to the wire I was okay. We drove home in one piece. We came home happy. We had started the process of learning how to listen and the sound of it was beautiful. We could be sure that we were ready to conquer the devils that abuse us no matter how long it would take.
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 Memory
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 memory in some kind of way.
If you want to communicate an idea using the word memory, 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 memory is located in the fabric of a language, the better you will be at exploiting its cultural power.
Pronunciation of Memory
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the word memory.
Video of me pronouncing "memory."
Definition of Memory
I have yet to publish the definition of memory.
I'm sure it won't take too long.
Common use of memory in illustrative example sentences
I have yet to come up with a fourth sentence using the word memory.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a fifth sentence using the word memory.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a sixth sentence using the word memory.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a seventh sentence using the word memory.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
Usage of Memory 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 memory.
That doesn't mean it's not high on my list.
Table of Frequency for the Word "Memory."
This table lists in descending order the total number of times that the word memoryand 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 memory, 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 #1748
i dont think apple can distinguish fantasy and memory anymore. its better not to argue with her. it doesnt go anywhere.
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.
"Contradictions, juxtapositions, and improvisations - I've got you all figured out." Jesus smiled. She was actually pretty smart - or, at least, she had a very good memory.
My earliest memory is traveling by plane. I remember seeing darkness outside the window, then a flashing light: first darkness, then light: white light, then darkness: big and total darkness. My own reflection was there in the window: I saw myself in darkness, a flashing light between my eyes. The roar of the gas turbines was overwhelming; I cried. My mother said 'please' in Polish, repeating the word over and over again. I didn't listen. A woman dressed in blue came and said 'please' in English. I said 'please' back to her. She said, "Yes, please." I said 'yes, please' over and over again. I looked outside the window at the darkness. I saw myself in darkness, a flashing light between my eyes. The gas turbines were driving me insane. I said 'please' over and over again. I was three years old. I was going to America.
Jesus's father didn't care. Your grandfather's fifteen minutes of infamy were long gone; only the dark memory of his gross negligence must have occasionally crossed his mind. What sort of grief plagued him? Was he sorry for killing his wife? or was he sorry that his wife had to die? What was he concerned about? Was he concerned about himself? Was he worried about his own moral integrity? Did he wonder why? Why did he do it? Was it worth it? The sacrifice? Was he conscious of the world's ingratitude? Or did he merely miss her? Did he merely miss his wife? Was it possible that he loved her? What was he thinking? Did he want to become like her? Was that his penance? To lie in bed? choking his veins with heroin? To sell his books for heroin? To lie in sleepfulness and regret? letting everything fall apart? waiting for death? To forget? What was he trying to do? Nothing? Was he that tired? like his wife had been? Had he nothing left to live for? Didn't he care about his son? Did he feel that helpless? Finished? What made him disintegrate? What strange force robbed him of his will to life?
Whether or not it were indeed modesty was not important. I later had reasons to doubt its true nature, but the truth of the matter is: I was oblivious to such analysis at the time. At the time, I was conscious of little else but the fact that I was courting a young woman's attention. My motives were inconsequential; success and victory were all that mattered. This 'modest façade' theory was the product of later attempts to explain to myself my actions and feelings, which, by a certain point, seemed to be springing, not from any conscious pool of memory, but from a void, like the one from which infants awake, and to which we feel compelled to add frustratingly unknowable significance and effect.
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.
Indiana's piano, in my memory, seems like a gigantic whale, grinning at me with its black and white teeth. The fireplace looks like a massive cavern, with a gigantic wooden pylon marking its entrance, gigantic chain-mail curtains framing the ashen path. Outside the drawing room, the foyer is like a universe. The chandelier is like a sun. The main stairs: they are a path to heaven: a broad and dangerous path: its steps are gigantic steps; one must leap onto the next one with all one's strength, only to falter back to one's death. But Indiana gracefully coming down the stairs: she is a goddess. She is a radiant beauty. She puts the chandelier to shame. She lights up the universe. The whale sings out her beauty. The caverns are emptied of shadow. The walls tremble. The portraits in the hall are shaken; the tapestries flap. Far away, the kitchen burns, and the dumb waiter speaks delicacies. That is her house in my memory. That is she who now haunts this quiet room with her absence.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 4, Self-image, Paragraph 2
She is to blame for my illness. But she is not alone. I blame her husband as well. I accuse the pair of them. They have both conspired against me. They are both responsible for the inflammation of my memory, for the dwarfing of my consciousness. In the face of recent events, I have been supremely humbled. First, I was invited, and then, I freely entered into something much larger than myself: a world, a life shared by these two. A marriage, a beautiful marriage, when it's healthy and complete, sanctified by Church and united by God himself, is not a safe place for a human observer: it is too large a corporation, too overwhelming - especially when one must witness its final destruction. Then the immensity of the affair is made apparent: for only in passing will such immensity be seen. Otherwise, it stays mostly invisible, like the great horizon.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 4, Self-image, Paragraph 3
Even my own body seems too large for me. That part of me that remembers itself: what it was thinking at that time, how it perceived itself and its surroundings - that part of me: that self, that constant awareness, that "I" - when that "I" enters my memory, it feels dwarfed by the size of my head, by the size of my face as I remember myself saying what I said, by the size of those around me, by their large hands and arms, large bodies of mass rotating around me.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 4, Self-image, Paragraph 1, Clauses 7-9
Such wonder I experience whenever I reflect on the origins of my relationship with Macy. It was so long ago, we were both so young then but I remember it vividly, and completely, unlike a great many other experiences that have distilled themselves into particular moments of feeling or have now decomposed into dark and cloudy snapshots of action. No, this memory is living. It accompanies me - you will enjoy this - whenever I pass a church drunk, and sometimes during general intercessions too.
Perhaps I was to blame; my memory does give me the impression that, after a certain point, it was I who habitually engaged Macy with my own dissertation. But that is trivial; if he had so desired he could have changed the course of conversation whenever he wanted. I do recall one time when I seemed to be boring him; I remember asking if I were boring but I don't remember what he said.
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 FBI was not helpful. Patsy's concept of a serial killer who mysteriously left girls to be thrown from tall statues made them laugh. The memory of nudie narcotics was still fresh in their minds. Patsy paid no attention. Sifting through reams of newspaper articles and police reports, he perused every detail of every person in the United States who had fallen from more than thirty yards. He found nothing.
The smoothness of the leather reassured me. I stroked it. I thought of my leg: the poison ivy I once brushed pulling overgrown grape vines from the trees: the week-long rash I suffered, whose blisters having burst, whose pus having wept dry, left that spot intoxicatingly numb, sprinkled with delightfully silky bumps, a token of pain patiently endured, an itch fitfully ignored, a small triumph of will, now faded into memory, temporarily rescued from the abyss of oblivion.
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.
(ALICE exits.)
FLETCHER: Lord, these events rush past me and my power to comprehend them. I pray that You slow them down at least so that I can catch my breath and maybe savor this memory of lips touching lips that almost too certainly my lips won't ever touch again - but never mind all that. My mission remains clear to me and I am focused. I hope that, with the help of Your Grace, I can make sure these things come to a nice, safe, happy, altogether acceptable, equitable, and respectable conclusion.
A story book full of short fiction stories. An interesting bedtime mystery. A fairy tale. Science fiction romance. Adult life. Uninspiring gay fiction. Horror.
In the end the professor's wife settled her wrongful death suit out of court. She moved out of East Farmville and the busted mailbox she had propped up in memory of her dead husband became another spider hole. Another clogged paper cemetery which Mark and the other substitutes kept cramming junk mail into because they didn't want to bring it back to the office. Life moved on. Somebody bought the house. They put up a new box. Fresh mail started coming in. Judging by the amount of Free Matter for the Blind, Mark hoped he wouldn't be seeing any more amateur photographers anytime soon.
Orbitz Número Dos shook his head. "It's not different," he said. "I was hoping it would be. I've already heard myself saying these things."
"You were standing where I'm standing?" asked Orbitz Number One. Orbitz Número Dos stared blankly. "Are you saying there's no way to change the future or the past?"
Orbitz Número Dos came back to his senses. He said, "The present is everything. The rest is memory. I remember the past. I remember the future. I remember this moment."
"If I touch you," said Orbitz Number One, "will you disappear?"
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 memory 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 "memory." 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.
Your help keeps the "Memory" page alive...
If you love women and art...
Michal's exporting art...is he screwy?
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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