Michal makes movies to promote female empowerment... Does he think women are weak?
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To me, the vagina is a symbol of equality and acceptance. In our modern age, we may not all have passed through one, but the door is always open - to everything, for better or for worse. I want to protect that idea. I want others to open themselves up to the needs of others. I want them to listen.
Having learned to consider a woman's needs as if they were my own - no matter how ridiculous - I've given myself a chance to grow. I want to give that chance to others.
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...
Four days after I arrived in Poland, the largely Catholic country was celebrating Corpus Christi, complete with solemn processions down the street. Three days later I had made a solemn vow that if given the chance to express it, I would show love to a woman I had only just met.
I had come to Europe to document people practicing naturism. Preliminary arrangements had been made to meet with an Egyptian nudist visiting the Continent and there was some kind of Pan-European gathering scheduled to take place in Croatia. I had arranged for an assistant to come along with me to help with anything I needed, but when her passport was stolen the night before we were supposed to leave, my plans went awry. I decided on something less ambitious. I would visit a naturist sauna in the city of Bielsko-Biala, Poland which I had just found on the internet. When I got there, I met Margo.
From America I brought with me the American can-do spirit. She saw the car that I had bought, the terrible camp stove I had borrowed, and my sundry canned goods and challenged me to make-do. In my optimism I assured her that if we lacked for anything I would make up the difference. She assured me that if she lacked for anything she would find her way to the nearest airport and fly home. Luckily that never happened.
Margo and I spent over 40 days on the road. We started out as basically strangers, but in those 40 days we started listening to each other. We started teaching ourselves how to cooperate. Our journey across Europe may have ended, but our journey towards each other continues. No amount of fear, anger, sadness, disgust or anticipation can stop hope. Slowly but surely, we're learning how to beat the devils that abuse us.
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: Hope Poem
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 Hope Poem
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the words "hope poem."
Video of me pronouncing "hope poem."
Definition of Hope Poem
I have yet to publish the definition of Hope Poem.
I'm sure it won't take too long.
References for hope poem
I have yet to find good references for Hope Poem
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 #1133
jenny went to mass. early. i hope her fiance knows what hes getting into. religion is jennys exercise. and shes a fitness freak.
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.
Oh Bartolomeo! Maestro da canne! For whom the Republic of Venice gave thanks! You gave hope to the weak and weary! More strength to the strong! A lifeline for Freedom! A slicker noose for the wrong! You gave both cold and hot, forward and back; a wife to the tyrant, and life to the revolutionary son; fear to the many, and rule to the one. You were indifferent. As long as people paid, you made guns. If not for you, what would've happened? Somebody else would've taken your smoky rank in the annals of industry: grandfather of arms! You gave your descendents an unparalleled legacy: your long and hard barrels, shooting with unflinching consistency, ensured over the centuries that your plant would not be torn from your family's hands. Berettas live on! They still make their weapons! They sell them! So don't be surprised that Jesus tried the same.
Your grandfather's greatest life moment was a grand farewell to litigation. When his beautiful, peasant wife was diagnosed with pulmonary emphysema, your father's father invested everything his family had into one grand suit: the culmination of his greatest hopes and dreams. On behalf of his sickly wife, he accused the governments of the world of negligence. He claimed that they were all guilty of doing nothing to prevent your grandmother from developing a serious and severely debilitating disease, one which was irreversible - one which was caused by the presence of toxic agents in the air!
"Watch yourself," I whispered. "Be careful with this one. She is good; she is honest, but years of neglect have done their work. She wants to be free; she wants to be honest, but lies have undercut her self-confidence. She mistakenly believes herself to be ugly and unwanted. These lies formed many years ago, when she first lost hope. She needs to feel - and be convinced - that she is wanted, that she is beautiful, but these things won't come easily: she will resist. She will mistrust the truth, and, as long as she remains a prisoner of lies, she cannot be, under any circumstances, fully trusted. She is like a child. Treat her like you would a child. Be gentle and forgiving, and never let her out of your sight."
What a shock it was! Alive and well one minute and dead the next: Jesus had no reason to consider his mother healthy, but nobody had told him her condition was life-threatening - on the contrary, her brief but recurring bouts of healthiness were arguments against it. Jesus had hope! Despite her chronic fatigue, Jesus had hope! Despite the air pollution being so bad, Jesus had hope! Despite the excessively ridiculous costs of respiratory therapy, Jesus had hope! Despite the fact that if he kept the window open, his mother would cough, and if he closed it, she would cough even more, Jesus had hope! And when she died all of a sudden, Jesus still had hope: he didn't lose it: he just realized, in order to make it work, in order to make it through life without losing one's mind, one must always be prepared for the worst: one must never be surprised. In fact, one must always make ready for sorrow and tragedy. Failure is opportunity misspelled.
Jesus hoped that Stalin's position in the army and, more importantly, his famous association with the Confederation would convince the board of directors to let him do whatever he wanted. After all, the future of the ruling party was at stake. If knowledge of this bribery and arms smuggling were - God forbid - ever to become public, the party would die. Their hopes of slowly rebuilding trust with this new Prime Minister's 'government of experts' by the time the next parliamentary elections took place would be quashed.
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 police were too busy setting people apart; they were not interested in bringing them together. But, hopefully, Nike could use this to his advantage. How could they know that he was the happiest man ever to grace their prison cells? They were oblivious to love. They were mechanicals - intelligent and tough-skinned beasts, some more intelligent than others, of course, but all of them insensible. They walked about on cloven-feet - even toed, perhaps, but heavy-handed.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 3, The Third Day, Part 1, Family & Welfare Reform, Section 4, Falling in Love, Paragraph 3
Looking over what I've written, I find only a few pages of conceit - no substance. All this talk about sharing looks: it reminds me much too strongly of my last letter to you, that e-mail I sent you: the long one I wrote on the train. I know it was a while ago - how infrequently we write! - but I hope you remember it; now that I think of it, I realize there are some valuable lessons to be learned from my experience - although I suppose I've already learned them, which is probably why my sermonizing has been so eager. This, then, is my excuse: if you will forgive my presumption, rest assured: it comes from genuine experience and from genuine concern, albeit the former is not nearly as fresh as the latter, since it's been so long since I last bothered dealing with such trivialities.
ANDY: My dear Macy, I know what you think. You think I'm fooling myself, don't you? You think I'm putting on a show for myself and for everyone else around me. And I know you think that because I know what you know. But I know a whole lot more: I know myself. And I know you're wrong. And that's why you are so pathetic to me. Based on one little incident, you think you know me. You think because you were privileged with a story that no one else knows: you have my secret. But you are foolish.
At least I hope to have reminded you of the circumstances under which your relationship with the 'Romaniac' began. It has been a long relationship, but oftentimes quiet and distant, and only recently, I gather, have you had the opportunity to develop it seriously. But I never doubted that it would be provocative: everything about that woman is that way, whether it be innocent or not, and your confessions to me have only piqued an already heightened interest.
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'll have to wait for the sun to come up. I only hope I'm facing east." He would regret those words. As soon as the sun rose, Patsy felt it on his skin. It was burning. "This glass gets really hot," he told the birds. He couldn't wait.
"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."
"She ran away." The girl pulled a picture of her sister from her pocket. "I show this to everybody in case they see her." Shephard admired the photo. "Her name is Pepsi."
"She's not as beautiful as you," said Shephard, "but close. I hope that's not why she left."
"The water," said Shephard. He pulled Clark inside. "We can't afford to stay," he said. "That man is probably part of some smuggling network. They don't like strangers."
"It's too hot to go out there without water," said Clark.
They talked differently amongst themselves. Gog's informers told him, "They say, 'Who is he to command us? He killed his entire family. If they had wanted to challenge Sargon, they would have come themselves. They sacrificed each other because they knew it would be hopeless. All they needed was a fool who wouldn't realize it.
"Gog needs to know, if we continue in this manner, we will lose everything. Are we expected to push our herds over every hill until we reach High Harrah? It is madness."
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.
LUKE: Hoopani Koopani.
Hoopani Koopani.
Witi tay rah!
Kissa kissa kissa ha!
Kissa kissa kissa ha!
Winna tee, winna tee.
Tee tee ta.
FLETCHER: What the devil was that?
LESBIAN: It's a haka dance developed by the Maori people of New Zealand. I didn't know Aussies could appreciate it.
LUKE: It's me old school chant - thanks to the junior rugby union.
– ACT I, lines 369-378
LESBIAN: What are you in the mood for?
MS. JACKSON: Love.
LESBIAN: I thought we couldn't do it here. I though we might get caught.
MS. JACKSON: Who cares?
LESBIAN: I do. I don't want to see you get hurt.
MS. JACKSON: Who's going to hurt me?
LESBIAN: Your husband.
MS. JACKSON: My husband is nobody's concern.
LESBIAN: What about your son?
MS. JACKSON: What about him?
– ACT I, lines 889-898
FLETCHER: Oh, Money! God of first fruits! Bringer of knowledge! Harvester of truth! Where would Man be without thy cold kindness? Give me your hand. Let the lorikeets squeak out the rhythm of our steps. We'll dance a polonaise. I'll sashay you around the South Pacific. Who could prove to be a better partner? No man could be as faithful; no woman either. Even if she bleed by the moon, her temper is not as mild. Obedience notwithstanding, her character can seem, at times, positively restive. Feistiness is a woman's most vicious virtue. It can burn a man's pride even while it warms his heart. In truth, a man who marries money is liable to finding a bed so stiff the kingfisher would laugh. Without it, one would cry at night like the ghost bird. Thanks to money, nature is Man's slave. Weathering the vicissitudes of fortune, the wealthy man works the ground for as long as the ground does not work him. When that day comes, let's hope that our money has not defrauded us of our nature.
– ACT I, line 797
(GREY GOOSE and KOKOMO exit in a rush. MS. JACKSON and LESBIAN enter in a rush.)
MS. JACKSON: Oh, that takes my breath away. Do you think he saw us?
LESBIAN: I don't think so.
MS. JACKSON: He could've turned. We have to watch out.
LESBIAN: Why?
MS. JACKSON: My son is an expert tracker.
LESBIAN: How is that possible? What's there to track on Norfolk?
MS. JACKSON: Nothing - unless it's human.
LESBIAN: He takes after his old man.
MS. JACKSON: Don't mention him. You'll spoil my mood.
A story book full of short fiction stories. An interesting bedtime mystery. A fairy tale. Science fiction romance. Adult life. Uninspiring gay fiction. Horror.
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.
In the end the professor's wife settled her wrongful death suit out of court. She moved out of East Farmville and the busted mailbox she had propped up in memory of her dead husband became another spider hole. Another clogged paper cemetery which Mark and the other substitutes kept cramming junk mail into because they didn't want to bring it back to the office. Life moved on. Somebody bought the house. They put up a new box. Fresh mail started coming in. Judging by the amount of Free Matter for the Blind, Mark hoped he wouldn't be seeing any more amateur photographers anytime soon.
On the fourth day I read aloud again from Dostoyevsky's The Idiot. I was practicing my diction. After I got tired of reading I started thinking aloud. I was discussing with myself the imagery in the story. Relating it to my own situation. After amusing myself in this way I decided I was being silly. I sat in silence again. I thought about Barack and his twitching and the general ignorance of people.
Orbitz left and came back with a small box and a pole with a noose on it. The creature scurried about trying to resist. "I know what you want," said Orbitz. "You know I'm willing to get it for you. Just be a good little girl." As soon as Orbitz had her in his clutches he injected her with a seditive. The girl started rolling her head about. She brought her little hand up to wipe her little eye. Orbitz started counting the seconds.
I don't know who to thank for my fate. I know God has a lot to do with it. As does Putin. And my own imagination. And the many friends of mine at university. And Barack. And Obama. And Khalifa.
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.
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If you love women and art...
Michal is exporting art...is he touched?
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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