Michal refuses to study the prospect of boosting his unimposing Fiction Corpus with a fable about cheap canvas art; cites fatigue
Posted:
I don't question the soundness of exercising English as a worldwide lingua franca. I don't trust in the vapid design by which the English language is presented for study.
Reenforcing a person's skills with a language isn't like introducing a bigger dam. A language - a living tongue - isn't just a tool that you can learn to wield with greater amounts of precision. A language cannot be insulated from the prevailing culture of a group 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 pupil to recite English is to cheat her out of its cultural context. A proper instructor has to find a way to introduce it; the insightful pupil goes out to seek it.
A dictionary has the potential to be an influential tool. The best dictionaries describe a language based on a particular corpus, a body of written works of various scope and consistency. They may include everything from a book about literature to a whole bunch of story books. I suffered many a sleepless night creating my "stately" Fiction Corpus to form a new type 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 devised a million words and I have broken them down, reframing them - not merely to teach the English tongue but to defend the human spirit, and to encourage that soul or spirit not just to recite but to happen.
The way to understand a language is to categorize its elements. Each word belongs in a box and there only so many boxes.
You only need eight boxes or eight categories of words to understand English. At the highest level, you have what-words and who-words, how-words and why-words, where-words and when-words, whose-words and which-words.
What-words can be further categorized into the same eight boxes. Artifacts are the what-what-words. Persons and people are the who-what-words. Fuels are the how-what-words. Fetishes are the why-what-words. Places and times, the where and when-what-words respectively. Acts are whose-what-words and Kinds are the which-what-words.
These linguistic categories relate to the seven categories of culture, which in turn I organize according to day of the week.
Just as Sunday can both start the week and end the week, Sunday or Victory Day (a day for artists) is related to both which-words and whose-words, or kinds and acts.
Monday or Labor Day (a day for capitalism) represents the how, or a fuel.
Tuesday or Family Day or Prayers Day (a day for love) represents the what, an artifact.
Wednesday or Assembly Day or Constitution Day (a day for law and order) represents the where, or place.
Thursday or Greenery or Science or Earth Day (a day to study movement) represents the when, or time.
Friday or Children's Day (a day to educate) represents the the who, or people.
Saturday or Armed Forces of Democracy Day (a day for hope and strength) represents the why, or fetishes.
Pronunciation of What Kind
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the words "what kind."
Video of me pronouncing "what kind."
Definition of What Kind
The question what kind is answered by a word that refers to the relative nature of the spin of a fuel that differentiates it from another spin. It is associated with the word which.
An index for what kind
I have yet to index the section What Kind.
Samples of Fiction from Michal's 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.
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 #5159
swabee says were up five hundred feet. what kind of storm surge goes up five hundred feet.
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.
For thirty-three hours and a half, we proceeded slowly (in fact, as slowly as possible) from the town square to St. Hedwig's Basilica, where we stripped ourselves to the waist, took off our shoes, and prostrated ourselves in silence. When the Master decided, he began to whip us. (The Master was elected; we chose the weakest man among us). When the Master started whipping, we began chanting the Stabat Mater. Assuming a position which indicated for what kind of sin we wished to atone, we would wait for the Master to heal us. The murderer was supposed to lie on his face - thankfully, none of us did that. The adulterer lay on his back; perjurers, on their sides, holding up three fingers; disobedient children, with their asses up in the air; people who didn't go to church on Sunday, in a crab; corrupt officials, holding up one leg, exposing their genitals. Then, we would rise, form a circle, and beat ourselves, singing songs of praise to the Savior, who endured much worse for the sake of our sins. We would walk, with banners and crosses held before us. In the nighttime, we held lanterns - all the while singing songs and beating ourselves with whips. (Jesus bought his in a sex shop.)
Jesus had no idea what kind of consequences this failure effected. His uncle hanged himself around that time, but there was no way of knowing how that were related - or whether it were only meant to look like a suicide. Jesus had his aunt moved to a safe location, and, as far as he knew, neither she nor her children were ever harmed. Jesus had no way of knowing whom or how many the Krupnik had informed about his identity, or, more importantly, his resources, which, considering the amount of duffel bags recovered from the basement, were, on the one hand, almost inexhaustible, but, considering the small size of his uncle's back room, were, on the other hand, quite meager - especially since Jesus was trying to conduct a private war.
"Yoga Balls?" my classmates said. "What kind of name is that? Aisles a balls? Ills a balls? Kyle's balls! Hey: it's Kyle's balls! They're notary pubic! Gross! No dirty pubic balls, Kyle! Hey: Kyle's got dirty pubes! And he's showing them! Put away your pubes, Kyle! Gross! Don't show us your pubes!"
Without the mistranscription, Jesus would've found himself in dire straits. Failing to capture his supposed Martian, Jesus would've had plenty of explaining to do if something wildly unexpected had prevented the army from going through with its planned shelling - but Jesus had been more afraid of Baron Cohen-Krupnik: there was absolutely no telling what kind of influence he had; if the azimuth could be mistranscribed once, perhaps, Jesus feared, 'the mistake' might be fixed. Without his proof, Jesus would've been rendered helpless. Perhaps the double mistranscription, which no doubt was meant to confuse and frighten honest army men (and prevent them from scapegoating collaborators), had also prevented Baron or any of his men from stopping their pre-planned 'mistake.'
"That's right," said his uncle, giggling. "It's a shortcut." To a cheap watering hole! where men turned into whimpering dogs, keeling over and crying for their masters. They were worthless hounds, chained and beaten by devils, abandoned by the Devil himself, who cares for richer meat: not old men! Rotten men! Men with false teeth! Sucking on shotglass! Nursing their own beer mugs as if they were fat whores' teats! Breathing more smoke than air! Jesus blacked out! The next thing he knew, he was smelling his own vomit: dried vomit: putrid vomit: fresh, ethanol vomit - all of it caked onto his face and arms, his clothes, the convertible sofa, spilling onto the wet floor, in a puddle of red-orange puke. How many stages of vomit? Some of it was flaking off. Some of it was rolled into balls. (During the night, vomit crumbs had been collecting in his ass.) Most of it was half-dried. The rest of it was liquid. For a second, Jesus had no idea where he was. When he realized he was lying on his own sofa, he wondered how he had gotten there. The last thing he remembered was being cradled in his beloved uncle's arms. Why was he being cradled? He was drunk. But why was he being cradled? Had his uncle been whispering something? Lullabies? What the fuck! What kind of life is that? He rejected it.
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.
It made me wonder what kind of people were giving Luke his reputation these days. They can't be that much different from the ones we knew: no self-respecting woman would ever shag in that apartment - but I guess that goes for men too. In fact, what self-respecting person would ever choose to have anything to do with Luke in the first place? He can't possibly be raping them - the walls are too thin - unless he uses drugs - ah, but let us not speak of that.
I prayed. Nike could not harm this beautiful creature: this lonely woman framed by shadow: this faint white blur of something sacred - divinely profane: a strange creature of different fabrics, white and black, her veil was it? A disembodied head: a strip dangling in darkness: a bird with a shimmering tail. What kind of bird? a dove? a penguin? a beautiful canvasback pochard in flight? About to be shot?
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 2, The Second Day, Part 1, Labor & Economic Reform, Section 22, Encountering Poverty, Paragraph 49
There was more to be said. I wanted to tell Macy what kind of relationship we could have. I wanted him to know the terms of our possible intimacy - but, he did not ask, and, by then, I was too angry to pursue it. Apart from a few necessary exchanges near the end, there was no more conversation. We did eat in silence; and I was glad.
Then again, the whole situation was odd and disquieting to begin with. Albert's words were part of a larger experience: a very troubling and strange experience. At the time, its true meaning was concealed; now that Albert has collapsed, I begin to understand, and, recalling that experience, I suddenly remembered his words. Considering them now, in the current situation, I immediately realized what kind of serious implication they harbored.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 4, The Fourth Day, Part 2, The Assembly & Government Reform, Section 5, The Power of Words, Paragraph 3
NIKE: It depends what kind of action is on the Champs. It can be hard to find something palatable. Young ones are eager to please. They're the best. It's not easy to score. Some girls drive around. Can you believe that? They're the expensive ones. I wonder who pimps them out. It's probably the people who work the girls on Avenue Foch. Have you ever been there?
LUKA: No.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 2, The Second Day, Part 1, Labor & Economic Reform, Section 21, Anal Sex, Paragraphs 38-39
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.
She asked, "What kind of radiation is this?"
Shaq chuckled. "Di kaind we di meik di man gro big."
"I think you've had enough already."
Shaq laughed. "A no go tank di water for dat. A go tank yu."
On the road home, he strolled through the orchards he played in as a child. He crossed the streams and the forests of his youth. Walking past the Cathedral, he came across two men standing next to a strange wooden contraption. "What kind of a siege-tower is this?" he asked.
"This," said one of the men, "is our Lady's chair."
Nike could not harm this creature: this woman floating in shadow: this blur of something horribly sacred-a strange beast of different fabrics, white and black-a veil was it? on top of a disembodied head? a bright strip of white fluttering behind? a bird with a shimmering tail? What kind: a dove? A penguin? A canvasback pochard in flight-about to be shot?
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.)
KOKOMO: Yet again, I'm left holding the wet, dirty towels. Not to worry. It's alright. I don't mind. In truth, if I could spend the rest of my life cleaning up after Fletcher Christian, I would be a very happy woman. Even if that is silly and backwards, that's how I feel. I would never phrase it like that to anybody; I'm not crazy. I'd make him take out the garbage and all that. Alice is right. It's high time I told him how much he makes my heart beat. I could turn it into a joke if it looks like he's uncomfortable. That would be dreadful. What kind of a joke would it be? I need a heart transplant? That's not funny. What am I going to do?
MS. JACKSON: Kokomo!
KOKOMO: Of course: the laundry.
– ACT I, lines 1381-1383
GREY GOOSE: Or what?
FLETCHER: You're going to have trouble.
GREY GOOSE: What kind of trouble?
FLETCHER: Do us all a favor and stop being a prick.
GREY GOOSE: Dare you call your own father a prick?
FLETCHER: I'll call you that for as long as you deserve it.
GREY GOOSE: You've got a lot of nerve.
FLETCHER: Like father, like son.
GREY GOOSE: What are you going to do? Call for mommy?
FLETCHER: If you don't stay away from here, it won't be this house that burns down.
– ACT I, lines 1247-1256
MS. JACKSON: He's in there-
FLETCHER: How did my father know?
MS. JACKSON: Your father is in there-
FLETCHER: Why are you telling strangers how I lost my virginity?
LESBIAN: I'm not a stranger; I'm a guest.
MS. JACKSON: Everybody knows about it.
FLETCHER: What kind of a place is this?
LESBIAN: It's your home.
MS. JACKSON: Listen.
LESBIAN: If I could, I would gladly make it mine.
– ACT I, lines 993-1002
GREY GOOSE: What are you talking about?
FLETCHER: What have you been spending all this time with him for?
GREY GOOSE: As an excuse to come here.
FLETCHER: What?
GREY GOOSE: Are we in the lay-off?
FLETCHER: I heard from Luke that you said something about Kokomo rooting for money.
A story book full of short fiction stories. An interesting bedtime mystery. A fairy tale. Science fiction romance. Adult life. Uninspiring gay fiction. Horror.
Meanwhile at the bottom of the hill the professor was waving his arms in frustration. Mark turned into Profile Road and asked, "What's going on?" The professor was embarrassed. He didn't want to explain what he was doing. He said he had been trying to photograph some wildlife until the truck scared it off. Mark apologized.
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.
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If you love women and art...
Michal's importing Polish art...is he meshugah?
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.