This mental film editing exercise is best suited for wonderful old-fashioned romantics and Mickey Mousing Lovers; possibly also for Bikram Yoga addicts/ lovers.
While having your morning coffee, put on your headphones and listen to the best of Liszt. It’s around an hour long.
While doing so, try to recall Mickey Moused scenes from various melodramatic movies you’ve seen or made up. Mix it up with a bit of comedy and cartoon scenes (best if from Tom and Jerry or Mickey Mouse, as well as general chasing and slapstick falling scenes). Now try to perfectly “live synch” the scenes to the changing melodic sequences of Best of Liszt.
This is a list of several occasions in which the sound of tsh takes place:
rain/ shower
flushing a toilet (not the airplane type: that’s more like llllllhhhhhh)
the sound of the interaction between a water based liquid and hot oil (between 175–190 °C) or more specifically the sound of a green slimy soup (molokheyya mixed with chicken stock) when poured onto fried garlic and coriander.
And here is my attempt to create words in both English and German that are associated with the production of the sound of tsh. The words exist in Arabic.
T and Sh, the root verb of the sound of tsh in Arabic
The Tshing noun
the production of the sound of tsh
Tshinglernoun
a container that collects the liquid produced by the sound of tsh
Here’s also a German attempt for the words:
TschenenNomen
Grammatik: das Tschenen; Genitiv: des Tschenens, Plural: die Tschenen
Beispiel: Ich habe es gerade beim Tschenen gebracht.
tschenenverb
Beispiel:
Hat es getschent? Ja, es hat getschent.
Der TschaelterNomen
the container that collects the liquid produced by the sound of tsch (formerly known as a Tschenenbehaelter and Tschenenkuebel)
In Egyptian Arabic (and also classical Arabic) this verb and noun consists of two letters
ط ش
T and Sh
طشة Tasha noun
Egyptian Arabic: the sound of the interaction between a water based liquid and hot oil (between 175–190 °C) or more specifically the sound of a green slimy soup (molokheyya mixed with chicken stock) when poured onto fried garlic and coriander.
Classical Arabic: rain, having a runny nose
طشت؟ Tashet? verb
Egyptian Arabic: used as a verb to ask if the previously mentioned sound was produced.
Classical Arabic: used as a verb to ask if it had lightly rained.
In Alexandria the two letters are mixed up thus Alexandrians would ask Shatet? instead. The root of the sound of Shatet (it has rained) and Sheta (winter) are similar, but not the same. (one has a hard t and the other a soft one)
طشاش Tashash adjective/ noun
Classical Arabic: to blow your nose or the sound produced when blowing your nose
Egyptian Arabic: to not have the ability to hear or understand very well (possibly because of the sound of tsh caused by impairment in hearing)
طشتTesht noun
a bucket (originally used for showering, and thus containing liquid produced by the sound of TSH)
And finally here’s a flirtatious poem about food, in which the poet mentions: له في السمن طشاش قوياً Laho fi Al-samn Tashtashaton Qaweyya : in fat it has a strong Tshing
Good to know that it is also called Urlauten, which I personally prefer to Ursonata.
Urlauten is a better word:
similar but not to be confused with umlaut (two .. on certain letters) > Ursonata has plenty of
Laut (loud) > poem to be performed out loud
Ur (old) sounds like Uhr (watch, clock, hour) = watchloud (as loud as a watch/ hour)
Urlauten= plural of Urlaut = oldlouds
similar but not to be confused with watchlouds
Umlauten are loud just like how the Urlauten should be read. It takes a long time to read them out loud.
Kurt Schwitters’ comments on Ur Sonata
“The Sonata consists of four movements, of an overture and a finale, and seventhly, of a cadenza in the fourth movement. The first movement is a rondo with four main themes, designated as such in the text of the Sonata. You yourself will certainly feel the rhythm, slack or strong, high or low, taut or loose. To explain in detail the variations and compositions of the themes would be tiresome in the end and detrimental to the pleasure of reading and listening, and after all I’m not a professor.”
“In the first movement I draw your attention to the word for word repeats of the themes before each variation, to the explosive beginning of the first movement, to the pure lyricism of the sung “Jüü-Kaa,” to the military severity of the rhythm of the quite masculine third theme next to the fourth theme which is tremulous and mild as a lamb, and lastly to the accusing finale of the first movement, with the question “tää?”…”
The fourth movement, long-running and quick, comes as a good exercise for the reader’s lungs, in particular because the endless repeats, if they are not to seem too uniform, require the voice to be seriously raised most of the time. In the finale I draw your attention to the deliberate return of the alphabet up to a. You feel it coming and expect the a impatiently. But twice over it stops painfully on the b…”
“I do no more than offer a possibility for a solo voice with maybe not much imagination. I myself give a different cadenza each time and, since I recite it entirely by heart, I thereby get the cadenza to produce a very lively effect, forming a sharp contrast with the rest of the Sonata which is quite rigid. There.”
“The letters applied are to be pronounced as in German. A single vowel sound is short… Letters, of course, give only a rather incomplete score of the spoken sonata. As with any printed music, many interpretations are possible. As with any other reading, correct reading requires the use of imagination. The reader himself has to work seriously to become a genuine reader. Thus, it is work rather than questions or mindless criticism which will improve the reader’s receptive capacities. The right of criticism is reserved to those who have achieved a full understanding. Listening to the sonata is better than reading it. This is why I like to perform my sonata in public.”
Out, out du Sauerkraut, she said selfishly 
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