Michal's meditating on the idea of boosting his enormous Fiction Corpus with a bunch of flash fiction; cites fatigue
Posted:
I can't challenge the soundness of utilizing English as an international language for the world. I do doubt the unsensational recipe by which English is taught.
Enhancing one's skill with a language isn't like making a safer parachute. A language - a common tongue - isn't merely a tool that you can learn to manipulate with greater amounts of precision. A common language can't be segmented from the professed knowledge 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.
Teaching a man to recite English is to cheat him out of its cultural context. An informed teacher has to have a blueprint for introducing it; the bravest student ventures out to seek it.
A dictionary can be an influential tool. The best dictionaries describe a language on the basis of a specific corpus, a set of written works of various size and consistency. A corpus may include anything from a book about literature to some real hard boiled fiction. I forged my "unimposing" Fiction Corpus to form a special 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 drafted a million words and I have investigated them, reformulating them - not just to teach English vocabulary but to reveal the human soul, and to coax 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...
My plane touched down in Poland on June 20th. A month later I was in Austria. Two days later, Slovenia. The next day, Croatia. A week later, Italy. The next day, Switzerland. The next day, France. The next day, Germany. The next day, Belgium. The next day, Holland. All with a woman I had met my first weekend on the Continent.
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.
I considered myself young and able, and being American I often convinced myself I was more than able. She didn't feel quite so young. Having grown up in Poland, what was and is still considered by many to be a poor country, she had the added burden of not only being disadvantaged but having it held against her. The difference became palpable when I realized I couldn't even properly translate into Polish the very American word, "opportunity." A chance? Sure. An occasion? Why not? An opportunity? Not in the book.
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 Lake
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 lake in some kind of way.
If you want to communicate an idea using the word lake, 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 lake is located in the fabric of a language, the better you will be at exploiting its cultural power.
Pronunciation of Lake
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the word lake.
Video of me pronouncing "lake."
Definition of Lake
A lake is a place you go to especially if you like nature, you need a vacation or you just like to fish or swim.
Common use of lake in illustrative example sentences
I have yet to come up with a third sentence using the word lake.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a fourth sentence using the word lake.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a fifth sentence using the word lake.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a sixth sentence using the word lake.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a seventh sentence using the word lake.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
Usage of Lake 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 lake.
That doesn't mean it's not high on my list.
Table of Frequency for the Word "Lake."
This table lists in descending order the total number of times that the word lakeand 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 lake, 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 #5713
lowes's gonna circle the barge north and head straight for silver lake. im taking a team downtown. well hopscotch our way through the city.
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.
"Lake" does not make an appearance in The Gospel of Jesus
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.
So I ran: across the puddles of the road, along the sidewalk where the herringbone, undulating its miniature landscape of brick, now formed a miniature world of lakes and hills where my foot found its familiar patterns. I, leaping with irregular steps, passed those buildings which not so long ago were fresh in my experience, shuffling past the unconcerned remains of undergraduates - some wet behind the ears, some colleagues from not so long ago - but all now unfamiliar, threatening too from within their institutional shelter, so I had to avoid their faces, and hid my own as much from their imaginary judgment as from the now pelting rain, for I had neglected to bring an umbrella.
There was a message from Albert - in Hungarian, of course - but I was able to recognize the name Balaton. He had sent this postcard from Lake Balaton. He addressed it to some place in Romania. There was also a postscript. I was able to recognize two Hungarian words. The first word was the word "love." And the second one was the word "little," which came immediately before a name I fully recognized: Indiana. "Give my love to little Indiana," I whispered. I looked at the postmark. It was August of nineteen sixty-eight. Albert was sixteen years old; Indiana was two. All of a sudden, my loins were inflamed.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 8, Financial Instruments, Paragraph 3, Clauses 9-21
You remember, dear brother, when you first met Indiana: we were fourteen years old on Lake Ontario, staying in a burgundy-colored house. Our cousin was teaching us how to play croquet, and you: you were already winning. I remember her getting very annoyed, but I was detached: too busy singing that song- the one about summer waiting for us to enjoy it - although by singing I mean repeating the chorus over and over again, since I couldn't remember any of the verses. Up the small hill, our mothers were lounging in the shade of a tall willow tree. It was very cold in the shade; it was very cold for summer - so when our cousin purposely hit the ball straight into the lake, you were the only volunteer.
I let the music play, and, approaching another glass case, I saw a beautiful portrait photograph. It was Olympia from a few years ago. She was smiling beautifully, thickening her lips, not showing her teeth. "They were probably falling out," I thought to myself. There was a smaller portrait of Fabric, and a picture from her baptism as well. You and I were standing on either side of the font. You were beautiful in the picture; you were smiling at the camera; I was looking at the child in my arms with a stern expression. There were many pictures in this cabinet: family, friends, vacation. There was even a picture of our mother with Indiana, frying a gigantic fish by the lake. There was a triptych of old photographs: a young man in a zipped-up sweater, an old couple walking in the forest, and a young couple on the grass: the woman in a plain dress, the man in uniform.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 6, The Drawing Room, Paragraph 4
Luka was horrified. He jumped back into the front seat. He took off down the La Reine Margo, not knowing what to do except drive madly. He turned right onto Anatole Boulevard, and, skipping the first right, he cursed himself. Why go so far? he thought. Now he had to turn right on the Allée du Bord de l'Eau. And why go so far, damn it! But once he was driving north, passing the Hippodrome, he knew this way had its options. He could cut across the whole forest: first, at the south, and then, build his way north: so, at the Carrefour de Longchamp, he took the southern Avenue, crossing the Reine before reaching the next carrefour, at which point, being on the eastern side of the Bois, he went north on the road bordering the lake. Deciding not to pass the racing club, he turned left onto the Route de Grande Cascade. But this brought him back to the Reine, and that was not helpful.
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.
He jumped into the front seat. He cursed himself. He started the engine. He drove down the Reine. He turned left. The road was one way. He passed a road to the right. It was also one way-the wrong way. Luka reached a carrefour. Instead of staying on the same road, he bore to the right. He reached a fork. The road to the right was one way-the wrong way. Luka had to go left. He reached a lake. He almost drove into it.
Gog spent his days fishing from the smallest island in the salt lake [e.g. Osman Island]. Shaped like a fist, it rose from the water to a height of ten paces. Magog would come by in her own boat. "Come down from there," she would cry. "You know there are no fish in this lake."
"If there is but one fish," said Gog. "I will catch it." Years passed. The man who sat on the smallest island in the salt lake caught no fish.
Luka took a moment to think. It was difficult with the opium. He drove further down the Reine. He took a left. He reached an intersecting road. He took the right. He stopped. He realized he was too far south. He backed up. He took the left. He passed a suspiciously familiar-looking avenue. He kept going. He reached the end. The road was one way. He had to go north. He thought he saw tennis courts. He reached the end. The road was one way. He had to go right. He reached a lake. Again he almost drove into it. "Damn it," he cried. "There must be a way out."
Gog let himself be swept away. A massive waterfall poured from the ear into a giant lake of blood. Mithra saw her champion floating lifelessly. She jumped down from the beast's back. She bravely pulled Gog to shore. She revived him.
On the surface, the river was calm. Thoughts of rapids and waterfalls injected themselves into Tae's mind. He imagined Bo drowning. He shook his head. He solemnly vowed never to return without her, no matter how far he would go. If the river drained into a massive whirlpool, he would jump into it. He would die in its murky depths looking for her body.
Tae noticed the river growing narrow. It was getting deep. If it emptied into a lake, he thought, Bo would be saved-unless there were a lake monster. Tae rubbed his eyes. It was useless to worry.
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.
"Lake" does not make an appearance in Sorry Miss Jackson.
A story book full of short fiction stories. An interesting bedtime mystery. A fairy tale. Science fiction romance. Adult life. Uninspiring gay fiction. Horror.
"What about Jeff?" asked Jessica. Sarah crossed her eyebrows. "The two of you were having quite the conversation by the lake. What were you talking about?"
Sarah laughed weakly. She said, "Adopting a child." Jessica almost spit her drink. "Not between the two of us, obviously," explained Sarah. "We talked about adoption in general."
"So," said Jessica. "Are you going to tap that?"
This time Sarah spit her drink. "My husband is coming in two days," she said. "What are you talking about?"
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 lake 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 "lake." I hope I can get it done sometime soon. -Michal
St. Sebastian was a member of the Roman Emperor's praetorian guard who had the audacity to teach Christian values while on the job. I think active duty American military men and women who don't vote or who don't publicly express a political opinion because of the uniform are either being idiotic or are being cowed by the threat of punishment from a superior. Either way, they're eunuchs. My purpose in creating the St. Sebastian Series is to put the flesh and face of the true soldier front and center. The good soldier puts his mission ahead of himself. He often ends up dead. The true soldier knows a bad mission when he sees one and he isn't afraid to say it. Saint Sebastian was not a cow, despite what clever people would have you believe. Saint Sebastian is a patron saint for all protestors who face the arrows of the mob for speaking out.
Your purchases keep the "Lake" page up and running...
If you love women and art...
Michal's exporting Polish art...is he nutty?
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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