Michal is poring over the possibility of complementing his modest Fiction Corpus with a bunch of fantasy fiction; cites fatigue
Posted:
I believe in the feasibility of employing English as a worldwide language. I don't trust in the unexceptional design by which the English tongue is presented for study.
Beefing up a person's adroitness with a language isn't like launching a more accurate map. A language - a common language - is not just a tool that you can learn to use with greater amounts of precision. A language cannot be cut off from the philosophical currents 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.
To make pupils recite English is to strip them of its cultural context. An informed teacher has to develop a technique for introducing it; the bravest pupil ventures out to seek it.
A dictionary - properly used - can become an influential tool. The best dictionaries define words based on a specific corpus, a set of writing of various scope and consistency. A corpus might contain everything from a biography of the world's top fiction authors to a bunch of slash fiction. I burned many candles developing my "lowly" Fiction Corpus in order to form a distinct class 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 constructed a million words and I have broken them down, reformulating them - not merely to teach an American language but to promote the human spirit, and to provoke 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...
When I arrived in Europe on the 20th of June, 2011, I had no plan and certainly no idea that by the end of the week I would be practicing photography with a woman I had never met, a naturist who had never before allowed herself to be photographed nude. It was the first of a whole series of firsts for the both of us.
I had come to Europe to experience European naturism, a movement whose philosophy matched my aesthetic of body acceptance and whose organizational structure and leadership I had thought almost exclusively restricted to the western half of the continent. I was shocked to learn that naturism had an official home in Poland, a country not especially known for its liberal culture. I was less shocked to discover that the home was owned by a Dutchman, but even more shocked to learn that it had been largely built by Margo.
As an American, I was full of optimism and confidence bordering on recklessness. I was ready to run the wheels off the car I had just bought and eventually I would. As a European, she was cautious and mistrustful. She needed to make sure the air conditioner worked. Which it did. If you knew how to turn the broken knob in just the right way.
Do unto others as you would have done unto you. But how to judge what we would want done to us if we've never been in somebody else's shoes? If we've never been abandoned by our mother, how do we treat somebody who has? Somebody who seems to constantly suffer the repurcussions of it? Margo and I had 46 days and 6,000 miles to try on each other's shoes. We had one car and one tent in which to hear each other's words. We learned to cooperate. We started learning how to listen.
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 Door
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 door in some kind of way.
If you want to communicate an idea using the word door, 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 door is located in the fabric of a language, the better you will be at exploiting its cultural power.
Pronunciation of Door
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the word door.
Video of me pronouncing "door."
Definition of Door
A door is a place that some people are willing to wait in front of for a long time depending on what may or may not be waiting for them on the other side.
Common use of door in illustrative example sentences
I have yet to come up with a third sentence using the word door.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a fourth sentence using the word door.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a fifth sentence using the word door.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a sixth sentence using the word door.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a seventh sentence using the word door.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
Usage of Door 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 door.
That doesn't mean it's not high on my list.
Table of Frequency for the Word "Door."
This table lists in descending order the total number of times that the word doorand 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 door, 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 #5631
my stash is intact. and my bodyguard stopped at the door. i knew stockpiling liquor was a good idea. im a man of foresight.
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.
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.
Jesus walked across the street. When he was standing right behind the Krupnik, he hesitated. There was a moment where he wasn't quite sure what to do. Then, the Krupnik leaned his head back in comfort. The pleasure of a good pee was Jesus's motivation. Raising his left hand, he swung down and across and jabbed his prey's larynx. There was a gargling sound as the Krupnik threw his head and shoulders and his whole torso forward. Jesus smashed them into the wall. The Krupnik fell down; his body was crumpled and motionless. "That was easy," Jesus said. "Like cake." Looking for a wad of cash, he found one that was clearly smaller than the one which he had seen previously. Nevertheless, it was still a wad. Jesus thanked him and walked away, down Linden Flower Road. He didn't run; he walked. When he got to the Church, he climbed up the stairs and went through the block. At the corner, he looked into Town Square and waited for the Irishman to leave. When he did, Jesus went to his building, unlocked the door, climbed the stairs and went to bed. Before he fell asleep, he heard the sound of sirens.
I will tell you everything from the beginning. I doubt that your grandfather will censor me. I know what he doesn't want you to see. I will keep my secrets. They are dangerous. My secrets are so dangerous, your grandfather kept me under house arrest for the past twenty years. But now that I'm in the infirmary, at death's door, he has shown mercy. I can write to you. And when you come to see me, I will hand you this work: the story of your father's life, the man who loved your mother and Your brother and who would never ever kill them. Your grandfather is cruel, but he is kind: he will let me see you. For twenty years, he has never let anyone see me, except for my beloved Hannah. You will see her! Smile to her! She will smile back. She is like your mother: kind, gentle - she even looks like her: she's half-Japanese.
In those days, there was a fashion for hanging yourself. The volunteer custodian at the Church of Sts. Peter and Paul hanged himself. He had lost his job, his wife, his children - everything to liquor. While his mother was still alive, she fed him. After she died, his father made him fend for himself. Using a belt, he hanged himself on his father's doorknob. In the morning, when his father tried to leave, he couldn't open the door: his son's corpse was blocking the way. He had been a handsome man while he was alive.
Third, and most importantly, on the opposite side of the door to the bathroom, near the window, was Leonard Cohen-Krupnik's desk, in the top-most drawer of which, on the right-hand side for the man who sat there with his back against the natural light, and on the left-hand side for everyone else, was a gun, which the Krupnik kept just in case of misunderstanding.
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.
Luka had the door lock. Then he grabbed her arm. "Listen," he said, "my friend gave you some money. It was my money and I need it back." She unlocked the door and opened it. "Do you hear me? I need it back." She ripped her arm free. "I don't have it," she said, and she jumped out the door.
Tonight, it was the audience room, and the doorman went through a set of double doors on the opposite wall. Nike was left standing alone - but the door behind him was still open, and, as Nike was well aware, many armed men were standing guard in the hallway. He was forced to stand and wait. Fighting the urge to examine the drawings - they were interesting, but completely beside the point - Nike was getting impatient: he desperately wanted to find that woman.
NIKE: Speak for yourself. I'm gonna be outta here soon, right, Doc? There ain't no reason to keep me: so you better keep your fuckin' eyes open, Jauvert, 'cause there's gonna be some dead Bulgars on your doorstep.
CHR: You can pick up your car now.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 5, The Fifth Day, Part 2, Science & Reform Schools, Section 8, Being a Victim, Paragraphs 42-43
My eyes - I had no eyes - my vision grew accustomed to the dark. I could see the shadows of trees. They were immense. They floated. They rustled. They terrified. The terror took shape. It stretched like a tube of darkness. It headed past the other side of the car. It was the other side. It was emptiness. I floated towards it. I filled it. I was balancing out the space. It was pulling me like dark matter. My hand clung to the door. I tried to hold on. I couldn't.
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 man murmured back the greeting. He walked briskly to the only other door in the room. He glanced at the woman. She was North Eurasian. She had short hair. She was wearing coveralls. The man stopped himself from huffing in scorn. He liked fashionable women. He said, "Is he ready?"
The door opened. Nike saw Barbara jump out. He swore to himself. He crawled after her. He jogged behind her through the thick swarm of flesh. He yelled, "What's going on? I haven't paid you."
Barbara glanced over her shoulder. She cried, "I don't need it."
Uzumaki walked to his desk. He pressed the intercom. He said, "You can show her in, Miss April." In a moment, the door opened. The woman entered. "Thank you for coming, Ms. Read. The gentleman to your right is Pat Harris. He's a bailiff with the investigative branch. He's read some of your work. He says he met your ex-wife in Cannes."
The woman watched. The image was dark. A door opened. Tatum recognized the lights of a corridor module. They shone brightly into the room. The man in the bed stirred. A figure entered the doorway. "Please," said the man, "Admiral Flava Flav." His voice was desperate. "I'll get you the money, Admiral. I'll get you the money." Something flashed. The man shook violently.
"That is a plasma gun," said Uzumaki. "We believe it was modified to deliver a fatal voltage."
Uzumaki paused. He studied the woman's peeved expression. He said, "I have no idea, Ms. Read."
Tatum smirked. "I'll have to keep my receipts."
"Is that a yes?" The woman nodded. "Thank you. You'll be doing the entire lunar community a service." He motioned towards the door. "My secretary will take care of you."
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: Oh, marriage! Where would man be without thy warm bondage? Those who fear the rope will never know the pleasure of being tied up: of pushing with all one's might only to stand still. It is a perverse joy, indeed, to take the plunge through the trapdoor: to hear one's soul snapping in two, pushing one's heart into one's throat: to say the words, 'I do.' To wed and then to bed - how old-fashioned an order! One cannot help but desire permanence in such an ever-changing world. To oppose it, lashed to a rock, feeling its weight crush one's spirit, may be a Promethean punishment best reserved for the noble. It is no wonder that only the force of custom and law kept so many together for so long. Matrimony is not for the faint of heart. So watch out, you concubines and concubinaries - you cohabitants and live-in friends: both cataracts and calm pools await you, but no peace at that river's end: just the wide, gaping maw of dissoluteness and abandon: the ocean of human desire, with nothing to do but sink. So swim home, like salmon, and enjoy rest: the comfort you get from being tied up. My prayers were answered: I am a man again - and soon to be more: a husband. Wish me luck, for the night is still young, and many acts of husbandry await me.
A story book full of short fiction stories. An interesting bedtime mystery. A fairy tale. Science fiction romance. Adult life. Uninspiring gay fiction. Horror.
It was a woman's hand. I took it. She offered me the other one. I took that one, too. She lifted me out of the car. We stood close to each other, holding each other's hands. The door squeezed us together. My breathing grew heavy.
So I was born one of three identical twins. Or triplets, I guess. Cause twins are two. So that was a big deal back then. I mean, triplets are born all the time now what with all the genetic testing and whatnot but back then it was a big deal. Cause it wasn't just our town that had the triplets. It was another town like right next door. You know. Two sets of triplets in one year. That was a big deal.
I nodded. Indiana opened the door. She got out. I realized I shouldn't wait. If she got around before I climbed out, we would meet each other face to face. I wanted desperately to avoid that. I couldn't move. Indiana reached the door. She opened it. Without looking at her, I unbuckled my seat belt. Indiana pulled it off my body. She offered me her hand.
Indiana let go of my hands. She embraced me. I felt her soft hair against my face. I closed my eyes. I let out a heavy sigh. It was Indiana's turn to rock me. I crumbled. I was a baby in her arms. She led me around the car. She opened the door. She tucked me into my seat.
Indiana drove back to our house. We sat for a moment parked in the driveway. I opened my door.
I escorted Indiana to the car. She said she felt funny. She explained she meant going to the passenger side without Albert. I circled around. The outdoor lights were on. I could tell Indiana was watching me. I didn't want her getting the wrong idea.
I decided to defuse the situation. "You feel funny," I smirked. "I feel funny. I'm not wearing a bra." I climbed inside. Indiana followed suit. The announcement settled.
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 door 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 "door." 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 purchases keep the "Door" page up and running...
If you love women and art...
Michal's importing art...is he loony tunes?
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.