Michal believes in helping women through film... Is he a fool?
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People lead by example. If people see me listening to women, it's possible that the next time they have an opportunity to do it, they'll take it - despite how hard it is to consider another person's needs as if they were your own. That's what it means to listen. It's not just about hearing the words coming out of a woman's mouth. You have to understand them. Then and only then can you judge wisely.
I'm learning how to listen to women - even when they say things that don't make sense. I want to give everyone a chance to do the same - and to benefit from it.
I've decided to export fine art handcrafted by women in Poland to America. High quality handcrafted art produced by high quality women deserves to be shared. The more I can sell stateside to people who know the difference, the more I can buy from those whose worthy hands to continue the fight for openness and equality, a fight that I've taken to the world wide web.
Your support ensures that films for women will make a difference.
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Janina: An Oral History of the Twentieth Century in Southern Poland
Chapter 10: A Shared History
Janina tells an important story from the town of Trembowla's past and describes her encounter with the Ukrainian who now lives in the house she once called home.
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.
Though I felt fully formed as a writer, and had been trained in visual language, it was my first time with a professional camera in my hands. I was just learning the ins and outs and had come to Europe to find as diverse a selection of subject matter as possible, preferably something that fit my aesthetic devotion to promoting body acceptance. Enter 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.
Each man grows up with his own kind of poverty. Even if he's got a warm house and plenty of food and a soft bed and plenty of entertainment, there's always something that a man needs. Sometimes he just needs to be listened to, if only by the birds and the trees, but preferably by another man, even if he's an artist from America who isn't very good at listening. By learning how to listen, we learn how to cooperate. By cooperating, we build a better world. In a better world, there are no devils to abuse us. A better world doesn't lend itself to abuse because a better world is populated by people who have learned 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: Last Hope
Love and hope. I say the words and I still wonder what it means.
I think of all the images, the poems, the quotes, the songs, the stories. The symbols.
I think of my own work, the Fiction Corpus, which I tested and analyzed because I too wanted to know what it was about. Sure enough, the words love and hope were two of the most frequent words I had used.
Clearly love and hope are a potent fuel. They've driven many a work of art. The've helped create many beautiful things. Maybe that's it.
Pronunciation of Last Hope
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the words "last hope."
Video of me pronouncing "last hope."
Definition of Last Hope
I have yet to publish the definition of Last Hope.
I'm sure it won't take too long.
References for last hope
I have yet to find good references for Last Hope
Use of Hope in Michal's FictionCorpus
Michal's Fiction Corpus of Acceptance Literature (FiCAL) is presented under the Bare Bottom imprint. It is currently comprised of six bodies of work, each representing a different pillar of culture and incorporating a wide variety of writhing styles.
A story bible for a comic book series set in a post climate-change California narrated by eight characters who live through a natural disaster that sinks Los Angeles and triggers a war with an expansionist Mexican government covertly supported by China.
Frame #3795
i slipped out of view. dropped the life jackets underwater. hopefully sprint wasnt caught on camera.
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.
Up till then, many voices - in fact, all of the voices from the upper echelons - had demanded that Jesus surrender. When the Martian story broke, everything changed. Panic acceded. Talk of a Martian take-over murmured itself on the lips of those who previously had looked on Jesus with skepticism. No longer was Jesus an upstart who some people claimed had escaped from the zoo. He was right: there were dangerous things afoot, which didn't make him Buddha but at least convinced some people to accept at least the possibility that Jesus was indeed the last hope.
You are my only hope, child. You are my knowledge. You are living proof that my life was not lived in vain. You must listen to me: I have much to say, much to tell you. Your grandfather has given me this chance. God bless your grandfather! He is a tyrant, but I bless him. I only hope he doesn't censor too much. I must be careful. Your grandfather doesn't trust me. Why should he? I am a desperate man: at death's door, I smell it: death: tissue: dying: spinning.
Oh, I'm tired. FUCK. When I'm tired, my voices come back. FUCK CHILD. Don't listen to them. They are stupid. They are vanity. They are meant to be ignored. I write them down only in the hopes that they will go away. If I share them, they will lose their power. They are meaningless, but I obsess: they bother me. And when they bother me, they win. I can't let them win. They are voices; they are meaningless. They are not me. My mind is sick. My mind says those things. I am not my mind. I am me. I don't say those things. My mind says them. It repeats them. No: I repeat them. No! My mind repeats them. My mind says what it wants to say. It has its own life. It has its own power. It controls me. Stop controlling me! I don't want to be obsessive.
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.
Oh, but who am I kidding? It's obvious that there are still so many feelings left - contradictory and unpredictable. And I'm supposed to be telling you what happened at Nike's party. That is the reason for my writing this letter. And I am aware, as my shuddering body reminds me, that in order for you to understand what happened, I must relate to you what has been happening, or rather what has not been happening between myself and Macy, a relationship which must seem entirely innocent to you, as I have ever so rarely discussed it. And I do apologize profusely for that, but there was never a moment when I was not so entirely confused that I could possibly broach the subject with any hope of clarity. Ah, but I'm already making excuses.
But let me remind you: this does not mean we are incapable of providing spiritual guidance, something which is often neglected, if not completely ignored, but which cannot be withheld from children of any age, however old or tender they be. As the recently matured, we are in the best position to provide such leadership, and we must maintain an active interest in our roles. Forgive me for reminding you, but I do so mostly for my own sake, since I regret my physical distance from my ward. It is very debilitating. I am one of those people who must see things in order to appreciate their need. I fear that I lack the sort of maternal clairvoyance for which many women are renowned, like our mother, for example. But perhaps a woman needs her own children, so I retain hope. At any rate, I do not enjoy the physical proximity you share with Fabric. So I rely on you, and, for the time being, you must bear the double weight of our responsibilities.
INDIE: And you know what? If you keep giving lessons to Olympia, which I leave entirely up to you, but, if you do, I will keep paying you for them. And I will even give you a bonus.
ANDY: That's very tempting.
INDIE: I hope so.
ANDY: But I really need a quiet place to myself.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 9, Intoxication, Paragraphs 182-185
I decided to audition for a play. They were doing Shakespeare, and I hoped my gifts in English would stand me in good stead, as I had no experience with the stage. As luck would have it, Mr. Williamson was given the lead, and I, as you will remember, was handed the role of Clown. I had not anticipated the amount of effort that mounting such a production would require, but though my schoolwork suffered, I was quite happy that the demands of work made my relationship with Macy almost strictly professional.
The possibility terrified him, which is why he still harbored some hope that he might be only nervous or something, and that his lack of preparedness was only a false image, a distortion of reality, because he, Nike, was completely sure of what he wanted: he wanted the woman.
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.
"I didn't want you to fall in front of the villagers. You want to impress them. If I had taken you straight into the desert, you might have been thrown onto the sand. I might not have heard you. The last thing you would have seen before dying of exposure would have been a camel's toe. Is that what you want? To almost make it?"
"You're right," said Clark. "I'm not a ladies' man. I'm comfortable in groups. I split bills. I sweat. I iron my socks."
Shephard stopped. He pushed the idling motorcycle towards the west. The humvee was four hundred yards away. It was moving out from behind the truck. It was gaining speed. The armed police wanted more. Shephard hoped they were foolish enough to follow. He leaned down. The petcock valve was already in the reserve position.
Shephard begged. "At least cut the trip in two. You don't want to sleep on the road. You want to sleep in a bed." The thought appealed to Clark's sense of hygiene. He was willing to consider it.
"There is no doubt," they said. "The autumnal equal-night passes from the Scorpion's claws to Heavens' mistress [e.g. Virgo]. Southern peoples worship the claws as scales of justice. If Indra has ordered Asvin to abandon justice, there is no hope. Wealth will continue to erode at the hands of the Paralatai. Southern peoples will be tempted to invade. Many of them worship the woman. The highlands call her Ishtar; the lowlands, Inanna."
Tatum knocked out the shards. She hoped the locking computer would be fooled. She stepped towards the outer door. She braced herself. There was only one way to find out. She pulled.
Air blasted past her. Neal's body lurched. Tatum reached for it. She grabbed the arm. The current pressed her against the door. There was too much slack. Harris's body was buckling.
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.
LESBIAN: The overcoat?
FLETCHER: The penis.
LESBIAN: I couldn't see. It was too dark.
FLETCHER: You mean you didn't look.
LESBIAN: I looked.
LUKE: You mean you didn't have a chance to taste it.
MS. JACKSON: Oh, my God!
FLETCHER: What?
MS. JACKSON: It's gone! My heirloom pincushion is gone!
– ACT I, lines 190-198
ALICE: I was taken aback.
FLETCHER: By whom?
ALICE: I was hit on by the nearest policemen I could find. I had just been mugged and middle-aged married policemen decided to hit on me.
FLETCHER: What did they say?
ALICE: They said I was too cute to be mugged. That's what they said.
FLETCHER: They weren't lying.
ALICE: I was so disappointed. They didn't want to help me. They didn't do anything except hit on me.
LESBIAN: They were married.
MS. JACKSON: And bored.
FLETCHER: What was the mugging like?
– ACT I, lines 147-156
ALICE: It's difficult. I like it. Sometimes I do wish he were more sensual.
MS. JACKSON: I know the feeling.
ALICE: When we have sex, it's all about the penetration. There is no foreplay.
LESBIAN: Nothing?
ALICE: Spread 'em and weep.
MS. JACKSON: Men are such animals - present company excepted, of course.
A story book full of short fiction stories. An interesting bedtime mystery. A fairy tale. Science fiction romance. Adult life. Uninspiring gay fiction. Horror.
China is full of noise these days. People everywhere. Doing everything. Anything they can to make it. I know there's a cost to the churning. Families split apart. Like the Limas. Ten kids all over the world. San Jose. New York. Vancouver. London. Paris. Tokyo. All born in Hong Kong. If the rich can't keep it together what hope is there for the poor. I've seen the peasant families on TV. Parents who see their children once a year. Until the kids run away from their grandparents and find work in a bar somewhere.
Further west the air fills with dust. Further west another ocean fills with fire. As the smoke clears my comrade and I face yet another shore. This one teeming with life. We wait. There may be hope in these masses. We watch the battles rage. We watch the battles die down. We land in a barren field.
The day was bright when I left Moscow. I was in such a cheerful mood I had to stop myself from smiling. People were always telling me always to smile. People who never smile themselves. As if there's nothing wrong with a black man who's smiling. A black man who's always smiling looks like a fool like anybody else. I was foolish enough just doing what I was doing. I had to keep my face quiet. The entire bus ride I stared at my reflection in the window. I wanted to look confident without seeming too proud.
Pfizer shuffled off to the cafeteria. "Nonsense," he thought. "Complete rubbish." For once he wasn't thinking about the food. His colleague Sara Lee came to cheer him up.
"Don't worry," Sara Lee said. "I'm sure your phosphane lions will be okay. There's nothing more important than life."
"Humanoid life," snorted Pfizer. "The only microbes the administrators care about are themselves."
The comment made Sara Lee giggle. "You're funny," she said. "You need to think about running for council. We'll never cut the defense budget if people like us don't speak out."
If a 45-year-old businesswoman and hard working mother of three kids is going to pose nude for a calendar, it's gonna have to be a good one. Margo didn't start a coffee shop called the Vagina Cafe to win her favors from the establishment. Even as she dishes out prizes to the 20 women who placed last in the twentienth anniversary run of her town's biggest road race, her business, unlike everyone else, doesn't get mentioned. She was an official sponsor for Christ's sake! But the announcer just couldn't swallow his patriarchy and get the words "Vagina Cafe" out of his mouth. That's not something a proper gentleman would say in front of a crowd of humble God-fearing "ladies" who cherish their modesty! And a Body Acceptance Calendar is certainly not what a humble God-fearing book-seller like a Barnes and Noble would put on their shelves! So how do I expect to sell this in the mainstream? Maybe if you download the free versions a thousand billion times it might help. Start downloading.
Help maintain the "Last Hope" page up and running...
If you love women and art...
Michal is exporting art...is he certifiable?
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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