Michal refuses to study the potential of reinforcing his humungous Fiction Corpus with a bunch of slash fiction; cites fatigue
Posted:
I regard highly the potential of enacting English as a worldwide lingua franca. I do challenge the unrewarding modus operandi by which English is presented for study.
Strengthening one's skillfulness with a language isn't like pioneering a safer bridge. A language - a spoken language - is not merely an instrument that you can teach yourself to manipulate with a greater amount of precision. A living language can not be isolated from the professed knowledge 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 proper teacher must have a blueprint for introducing it; the perceptive pupil ventures out to seek it.
A dictionary can be an influential tool. A decent dictionary will describe words on the basis of a particular corpus, a body of writing of various scope and consistency. Such a corpus may include anything from a book about literature to a whole bunch of romance fiction books. I suffered many a sleepless night developing my "immense" Fiction Corpus to form a precise class of dictionary based on the ability of one man to tell a story in myriad forms. It is a labor of love and listening.
I have drawn up a million words and I have divided them, reshaping them - not just to teach English vocabulary but to describe the human spirit, and to provoke that spirit or soul not just to recite but to happen.
Michal's Dictionary: Understanding the word Station
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 station in some kind of way.
If you want to communicate an idea using the word station, 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 station is located in the fabric of a language, the better you will be at exploiting its cultural power.
Pronunciation of Station
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the word station.
Video of me pronouncing "station."
Definition of Station
A station is a place you go to in order to find the right kind of fuel or the right kind of artifact that will take you where you want to go. It can also refer to a kind of person or artifact related to such a place or the act of putting something or someone in a place for the purpose of managing local artifacts or fuels. It is can also sometimes be fetishized to mean the position especially within a given social hierarchy from which it is considered difficult to advance.
Common use of station in illustrative example sentences
I have yet to come up with a fifth sentence using the word station.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a sixth sentence using the word station.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
I have yet to come up with a seventh sentence using the word station.
Audio of me saying the sentence:
Usage of Station 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 station.
That doesn't mean it's not high on my list.
Table of Frequency for the Word "Station."
This table lists in descending order the total number of times that the word stationand 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 station, 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 #1703
my car is at the xbox station. i didnt have anywhere else to put it. if this guy starts walking across disneyland im gonna have a problem.
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.
Blaming America was difficult. For the simple-minded, it was easy, but most people were conflicted. America was a beautiful country; it had suffered much, but who hadn't? Besides, Americans were in space, in stations orbiting around the Earth; America was on the moon, racing China for the best pieces of real estate. Even though half their country was gone, they were still on top! They were in orbit around the Earth! American soil filled the stratosphere, casting its shadow across the globe: and they were above it! They couldn't care less. To them, the damage was done. Yellowstone exploded - thank you very much, now go and help yourself.
My cousin Stalin was able to procure for us a record of all authorized shipments from the Czech Republic, especially those from Brno which had passed through the southwestern border since the terrorist insurgency in Germany. Meanwhile, Sapper was sent with a blank check to the diesel fuel station at the border - "the only diesel fuel station around for miles," according to his old friend Washington Dulles. Your father told him to buy everything: the whole station: the building, the record books, the fuel. Sapper got it all for a nice, little price. The owner almost blew his load out of gratitude.
The MTA stationed itself around Olympus Mons and around every major point on the irrigation system, which, after decades upon decades of eager development, became vast and unknowable to men, penetrating far-flung regions with massive amounts of pressure, complicated systems and safeguards, gauges, unseen aqueducts forming strange and multifarious designs - mostly thanks to geography, of course, but also thanks to economics and evolving technology, which insisted on placing new pipes next to old ones, better pumps next to broken ones, and whole new branches of irrigation in previously undeveloped areas wherever greenhouses popped up, according to the most recent wind patterns, leaving old branches completely abandoned wherever dust had made growing unfavorable - but whose first and greatest branch went straight down (in order to beat the Southern Ice Cap Company into submission) to the southern hemisphere, to the Hellas basin, where, being the lowest point on Mars, the first permanent settlements were made (in the dubious hope that the elevation and increased pressure would somehow prove useful to Martian civilization) which, in turn, came to coalesce and grow into the modern urban giant called Centropolis.
There was a giant question mark between the Russians, on the one hand, and the Krupniks on the other. The relationship between Krupnik Holding S.A. and Russian oil was obvious. Though diversified, Krupnik Holding had decisive shares mostly in oil companies, most of whom refined and distributed mostly Russian oil. Those companies, unable to distribute their refined oil on Earth, were now hoping to distribute it to the new interplanetary shipping companies being formed. Those companies, in turn, were courting the spaceports, the orbitports, and, as far as they could, the stationports - arranging, as often as they could, exclusive contracts. Everyone, from the small oil company to the independent spaceport, was supporting Hitler Panzer-Tank's private war.
Terrorism was also big. The very same year that Jesus's mother died, some crazy American blew up a U.S. government space station, killing one hundred and sixty-nine people. Two years earlier, some crazy pirate tried to blow up the Interplanetary Trade Center. Six people died; a thousand more were injured. He claimed his intention was to kill as many as two hundred and fifty thousand Americans by dislodging one of the two great modules that - back in those days - made up the bulk of the orbiting Center. Four years later, the U.S. government claimed that it was A-ron workers that had organized a bomb attack on one of their military bases in outer space the previous year, which had killed a total of nineteen soldiers, wounding more than five hundred.
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.
The train was approaching Green Park station. A few people, including the white woman, got up to leave. She was beautiful. She was not fat, but she had massive hips. My loins were inflamed. Her bubbly breasts were so beautiful. They were swinging around. She wasn't the only one getting off - but I wanted to follow her. I wish I could've known her name.
Of course, I thought myself capable of their magic. I believed if I had only had the chance to sit in degustation from a tender age, I would have developed a similar ability. But as we were not privileged with such a Dionysian patrimony, for many years I thought we had been rescued from that dizzying duty of having to taste so many wines (I did not know that one spits).
– Title 1, Regarding Peaches and Bananas, Part 1, Section 1, Introduction, Paragraph 1, Clauses 14-16
Then I saw Nike: in the station wearing handcuffs. Christian was standing next to him - the handcuffs were being removed.
We are at a train station. Sad people are always boarding trains. I am sad. But I'm not leaving: my friend is leaving: he's taking the train: he's not sad: he's not sad at all." I looked at Nike's face, looking out the window, and, waving to him, he waved back.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 1, Cancer, Paragraph 3, Clauses 5-10
So we went back inside and Barbara made her goodbyes. I told everyone I would walk her home, and, luckily, Nike didn't ask me if I were coming back. I knew that if I stayed at that party Nike would have me sleep there, and that was something I was not prepared to do. As we walked down Prospect Street, Barbara and I were talking, but my mind wandered from the conversation. She's a good talker, and she has a nice face too. I imagined what it would be like to make love to her, to marry her and have children. Perhaps she's not the best woman around but she is rather good. In front of her dormitory she gave me her number, and I said goodbye and "good luck with your paper." If you're nice to me, maybe I'll give it to you. As I was leaving she called to me. I turned around and she asked me my family name. "Stewart," I said proudly, and smiled. Back on Prospect Street, I hailed a cab and took it to the station.
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.
Tatum followed Neal back to the station. They boarded a train for Sams Town.
The day came to attempt their first heist. Shephard couldn't be there. He had to give himself an alibi. He made arrangements for "Coke" to wait for his call at the hotel lobby. He left Pepsi's car along the desert highway with a flat. He hitched a ride to the gas station with a stranger. Before heading to the telephone, Shephard stopped by the restroom. Of the two stalls, one was taken. The other was soiled. Shephard wiped the seat as well as he could. He turned. He dropped his pants. He sat. The man next door was wearing expensive shoes. They looked familiar. Shephard chuckled. He said, "Nice shoes."
Clark grinned. He had enough for a decent swig. With exquisite care, he brought the water to his lips. He threw back his head. He slurped. He gagged. He spat. He retched. He wiped his chin. He looked at Shephard. He said, "It's salty." Shephard nodded.
They kept going. The gas station appeared on the horizon. Clark staggered towards it. "Is it a mirage?" he asked.
Pepsi came back with a bucket. "You can stay," said Shephard. He noticed Coke staring at him in the mirror. "Hey," he said. "Move that thing." Coke obliged. "Don't forget to pick me up from the station."
Shephard knelt down. He tentatively took hold of the toy. Pepsi pushed him back. She wrapped her lips around the tip. She sucked. She gagged. She pulled away. Gas flowed.
"What am I going to do?" thought Shephard. He looked around. There was a man tanking a sedan. He was too close to the humvee-there was no time to find keys. A guy in a truck-too far away-too ready to drive off. A car pulled in-behind him, a young man on a motorcycle. Shephard recognized him. It was the man from the accident.
Shephard took another look around the corner. Clark was coming out of the station. A man in a tight uniform was next to him. He was escorting Clark to the humvee.
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.
MS. JACKSON: What about my heirloom?
GREY GOOSE: What heirloom?
MS. JACKSON: The one you stole.
GREY GOOSE: I didn't steal anything.
MS. JACKSON: Don't lie to me.
GREY GOOSE: I didn't.
LESBIAN: I did. I packed it away in my bag. I have two tickets for tonight's flight: one for me and one for you. Come. We'll explore the world as your ancestors did: the English and the Polynesians. They went from west to east; we'll go from east to west. We'll show the lost and the lovelorn what true devotion means. We'll scale Victory Peak in China. We'll sail the Punjab. We'll get lost in Gargas Cave. We'll bathe in the hot springs beneath Mount Hekla. We'll catch a Broadway show. We'll do some shopping at Shinjuku Station. We'll do anything your heart desires. All you have to do is liberate yourself. Let your passions run free. Someday we'll return to your native land. It won't ever be the same again. Nevermore will you be shamed. Woman, you'll have made the entire world yours.
MS. JACKSON: Nameless Pain! How am I to deny a penitent husband - newly birthed in remorse, in truth, in love, and desirous of similar gifts from me, his lawfully wedded wife, who, for so long, and with so many tears, kept watch over this heretofore seemingly endless and vain gestation - yet relish this sudden appearance of life: this infant curiosity: this foundling whose love demands more than my adoption could ever give? Oh, Homo: a thousand hearts couldn't beat as strongly as you have made mine beat. This is my home. I can no sooner leave it than change my body for that of a man. The world is yours; go out there and take it. Please leave me in peace. I beg you.
LESBIAN: I'll go. Though it pains me more than female circumcision, I'll go. I'll go because I love you.
A story book full of short fiction stories. An interesting bedtime mystery. A fairy tale. Science fiction romance. Adult life. Uninspiring gay fiction. Horror.
Proctor spent a sleepless night at the station. The next day he was questioned for hours by an FBI consultant. In the evening he snuck out. He made his way to John's apartment. He had to wait. John was under protective custody. When it was dark Proctor climbed up the fire escape. He tapped on John's window.
John appeared. He opened the window. "Thank God," he said. "I didn't know what happened to you." He helped Proctor inside. He started kissing him.
Pfizer fiddled with his laser pointer. "If only the old man could see me now," he thought. He was staring out the window. Listening to the tap-tap rattle of methane as it hit the transparent concrete. "Things could be worse," he thought. "I could be at Lagrangian Station 3. On the far side of the sun. Without the glimmer of a hope of seeing that beautiful blue orb in the sky."
"Doctor Pothammer," said the general. "I hope I'm not boring you."
When the Nautilus left orbit Orbitz shadowed it in the Argo. When the Nautilus turned off course and headed towards the tesseract the Argo turned too. It wasn't alone. On the opposite side of the Nautilus there was another Argo. It was may have been younger but it had the same shape. The same designation. The same frequency to its identification transmitter. The presence of the two identical ships seemed impossible. It confused the operators of the control station long enough to let all three ships pass into the tesseract. From that point on they couldn't be stopped. They passed through the singularity.
Living with Barack wouldn't have made any difference. He wasn't attacked at home like Khalifa. He was attacked by ten men in the middle of the street. In the middle of the day. People standing all around. If I had moved in with him it could've been me in that tunnel to the station. We could both be twitching for the rest of our lives. He told me when he saw me he considers it lucky I was not there.
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 station 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 "station." 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.
Help keep the "Station" page...
If you love women and art...
Michal is exporting Polish art...is he non compos mentis?
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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