Help End Political Abuse With Art

Strength and dignity are her clothing...

Proverbs 31:25

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.

As an artist inspired by a young woman's struggle with self-esteem and bulimia, body acceptance had always featured prominently in my aesthetic. Having recently discovered naturism and its mantra of body acceptance in the United States, I was eager to explore the style and philosophy of naturist clubs and the beauty of naturist campsites in Europe. By a trick of fate, I found myself first in Bielsko-Biała, Poland. Margo's home.

Though I was born in Europe, I had been brought up from a young age in America, living in states as diverse as Nebraska, Ohio and Connecticut. I was taught American values and saw reality from an American perspective. She was born and raised in a village in Poland. She went to work in the nearest town. The nearest city seemed like the center of the world. The American perspective was not something she was ever planning to see.

Do unto others as you would have done unto you. But how to judge what we would want done to us if we've never been in somebody else's shoes? If we've never been abandoned by our mother, how do we treat somebody who has? Somebody who seems to constantly suffer the repurcussions of it? Margo and I had 46 days and 6,000 miles to try on each other's shoes. We had one car and one tent in which to hear each other's words. We learned to cooperate. We started learning how to listen.

One of Margo's pictures from our trip across Europe. — 6,000 miles across Europe with a complete stranger
**Day 41**
8/29/2011
♫ 10༜♊²⁵/₂₄♀
Cala d'Oques
Hospitalet del Infante, Spain
THE DISAPPEARING WOMAN, THE DISAPPEARING MAN...
a collection of modern art prints and posters
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.

Previous Image — 6,000 miles across Europe with a complete stranger
**Day 41**
8/29/2011
♫ 10༜♊²⁵/₂₄♀
Cala d'Oques
Hospitalet del Infante, Spain
THE DISAPPEARING WOMAN, THE DISAPPEARING MAN...
a collection of modern art prints and posters
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.

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.

If you're wondering...

How do I use this?

Just click on a title to see examples of "Hope" from a particular work. You'll stay on the same spot on the page, only the Table of Contents will disappear. To get back to the Table of Contents just click next to the image of the Bare Bottom imprint where it says "Back to Use of Hope: Table of Contents."“And...?”

In the case of common words, a Table of Frequency and a Table of Collocation provide numerical information about how many times a word appears in its original or modified form and with which words. It can help to give you an idea of how common words are used and in what contexts. Find them in the "Common Words of English" part of the Education section.“Ok.”

Why a Fiction Corpus?

The popular understanding of the word "fiction" and its complement "non-fiction" is a reflection of the cultural influence of a classification system. The Dewey Decimal System is responsible for separating "fiction" from all other work and categorizing it by author's name. This has influenced the popular idea of fiction as a narrative that tends to be "untrue" and the product of an individual's fantasy, a bias compounded by modern art's century-long obsession with abstraction, surrealism and self-expression.“So...?”

My idea of fiction rests on the idea that art doesn't have to be factual to be a true reflection of our existence. Adam and Eve didn't have to exist as two individuals 700 generations ago for them to be true portraits of two human beings trying to work together.“And...?”

The Bible is a Fiction Corpus. It is a body of writing that isn't overly concerned with facts and yet its words carry weight. It was written by many different authors living in different places with different audiences in mind, yet everyone gleans something from it.“Right...”

In preparing my fiction corpus, I have striven to see the world through the eyes of others. Through the eyes of my Adams and Eves I hope that you too will glean some truth about our existence. At the very least you will learn some more about how one man can use the English language.“Ok.”

Who are you, Michal?

I'm just a guy who makes art. And if you're interested in making a solid investment in an aesthetic that supports our present and future welfare, then I will help you look for something that you can buy.“How...?”

Everybody makes. Everybody sells. Some people know how to protect their interests. Some better than others. Few people know how to listen. Listening to somebody means considering their interests as if they were your own. Going out and doing something to satisfy another person's interest is how we build a strong economy. Without a strong economy, democracy collapses.“And...?”

Buying 4Occupy is buying for democracy. Don't give your money to somebody who's ruining it. There's no such thing as cheap democracy, quick democracy, or easy democracy. There's good, solid, complete democracy and the tyranny of feudalism. Let's not mix the two. Let's not buy everything on the cheap. Let's not create another tyrant and enslave ourselves because it was easier not to think about what we were doing. Let's protect our interests. Let's listen.“Ok.”

Who's really behind this site?

Have you ever been to one of those post-it-yourself retail websites where there's a really attractive top-seller ready to give you tips on how you can be a top-seller too?“Uh...”

Have you ever been to a "job" interview where you sit in a line, walk through one door, get hired as a contractor and walk out another door, so that the other applicants don't realize that everyone's getting "hired" to work in the same market?“Maybe...”

The internet is full of people who are ready to exploit your ignorance. They are people who want to make money at the expense of our economy. They are cheats.“And...?”

I, Michal, am behind this site. Not some fat plutocrat exploiting my image. I like to do things the right way. I like to work with people who take the time to do things right.“Why...?”

I used to work for a company that didn't do things the right way. My labor was exploited because of mismanagement. That company was the United States Postal Service, an independent agency of the United States Government that is ultimately controlled by Congress. I'm mad because if the Federal Government can exploit labor, who is going to stop every other cheat from doing it?“Labor Unions...?”

Don't say labor unions. I went to my labor union and they did nothing. They ignored me because labor unions aren't democracies. Holding a free and fair election for a "representative" once in a blue moon does not equal people ruling. Democracy means open government. It means we the public need to accept the hard work. It's the only way to secure liberty and equality.“Ok.”

What's the difference between use and usage?

Definition-wise, not much. But the -age suffix is ultimately French in origin and with most things French, at least in American eyes, the immediate thought is that of something precious and arcane whose value should be judged very carefully. This is in contrast to the word France, which is associated with a beautiful place. Thus people in France or from France are beautiful, warm, kind people. Generous even. Unlike French people who suck. Unless you're frenching, in which case you're only sometimes sucking.“And...?”

Along those lines, usage means you're in bed. Use means you're just heavy petting. Also notice that common people, like common words, get used...whereas "proper" things make "appearances." Whether or not you are being exploited is a different story. Exploitation is what happens when somebody uses you or your property without listening to you. Listening is what happens when you consider another person's needs as if they were your own. You don't have to satisfy those needs. All you need to do is consider them. So many of us can't even do that.“So...?”

Help stop exploitation. Buy 4occupy. Buy a better world. Whether or not you feel you can afford to buy art, consider joining my protest. I want to guarantee every working man and every working mother on this planet a 15-day universal holiday. But I can't. Only we can do that. We have to work together. We have to accept the idea that everyone deserves time for himself and we need to build that time into a new kind of calendar. We have to give peace it's own day. We have to make love something you can't avoid. We have to make even the most miserly cold-hearted capitalist among us say that he cashed his check on Love Your Neighbor Day. There won't be any other way to say it once the Acceptance Calendar is widely adopted.“Ok.”

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Use of Hope in Death to McDonalds

An aerial view of Dodger Stadium in the foreground, with an imaginary partially submerged Los Angeles behind — 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 #7046

harley ran off. i hope she doesnt stay away for long. im lonely.

Sprint "Iphone" Case

23 December, 10:41 PM

Frame #2971

im proceeding north on foot. i hope nobody comes to service these power lines tonight. the last thing i need is attention.

Chase Credit

28 August, 7:10 PM

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Use of Hope in The Gospel of Jesus H.

A picture of the planet Mars — 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.

From my seat in the middle of the booth, my view was unobstructed. I was gazing upon divine grace: the ultimate of mortal gifts - penultimate Gift! purest Womanhood! I was looking at Man's consternation, his pride, his instrument in Man's quest to be like God: to create! to love! to hold! But I did not yet know it. I was blinded by honor's undignified lust for vengeance. I sought my own brand of justice in that choked and choking room of self-conscious amusement, otioseness, and strife. I wanted to conquer, my child, not love. I looked upon that lovely figure with calculated intentions. I did not see her loveliness; I ignored her life, her needs, her desires, her hopes and dreams - they were unimportant. I saw myself and my own needs only, no matter what I claimed or thought I felt. I was not unimpaired; I was drunk: impatient: rushed by my own winds - not what I considered - and seriously so - to be the winds of destiny. Those were only breezes, unpredictable movements of air: the erratic impulses produced by circumstances in the landscape; they were not to be trusted. They were only whisperings - and if destiny had anything to do with them, they were only destiny's advances: wafting forward ideas and intimations, proposals, and the probability of misapprehension.

– Verse 432 from the chapter called Bohemia

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.

– Verse 9 from the chapter called Childhood

"What the fuck is this?" continued the Krupnik. "You know what this is? This is the fuckin' line to the goddamn checkpoint. We're gonna be here for fuckin' two hours or more. When we cross this bridge, you can wave hello to the goddamn howitzers. What the fuck is going on? This planet: it's madness. This is worse than usual - and usually, it's pretty fuckin' bad. That Lipski's gonna have to pay for this - goddamn it: it's not his fault. It's the goddamn situation. It's fuckin' terrorists, outer-space pirates, American interests - goddamn it. It's a good thing this city has a moat - if not for that, fuckin' Lipski wouldn't know where to put his troops. I can read him like a goddamn book. Once we shoot around on this bypass, we can ram ourselves up his goddamn ass. Why do you think I left the hood red? That's a sign for the terrorists. This way, they won't shoot us. Goddamn it! Welcome to the fuckin' party, boy. I hope you like it."

– Verse 123 from the chapter called Arms

"It was very big news back then, I assure you - and I'm not surprised that they found it. You'll notice that Treblinka has at least one of everything. It makes you never want to leave: one theatre, one basilica, one convent, one rotunda, and one homo erectus archeological dig. Now, you might not be ready to believe this, but, in the campsite - the homo erectus campsite - they found rhinoceros bones - and, whether or not you choose to believe, as the scientists have already assumed, that primitive man hunted rhinoceros, I hope you come to accept the simple fact that, at some point, we even entertained a wild rhinoceros in our midst. Can you image hunting wild rhinoceros around here? With a pointy stick?"

– Verse 458 from the chapter called Security

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!

– Verse 59 from the chapter called Adolescence

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Use of Hope in Sex for Children

A drawing of a man between a woman's legs in front of another man in a hospital bed — 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.

ANDY: You can't deny it: and you're too much of a coward to say it's true.

MACY: ...

ANDY: You're pathetic.

MACY: Don't be mean.

ANDY: How am I supposed to talk to you?

MACY: Like a gentleman.

– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 5, The Fifth Day, Part 1, Greenery & Land Reform, Section 1, Love, Hope, Desire and Suspicion, Paragraphs 69-74

ANDY: I hope it won't be that hard to understand once you're reading it. I worry that I'm going to take things for granted. I feel like - right now - I'm thinking about things philosophically - for myself - so I know what I'm doing - but, in a way that won't be there on the page, and I'm afraid that people won't get it. I don't know. It's all meaningless. I say it's about the present, but that's only because it concerns our future. You know? Where are we going? et cetera. So it only makes sense that the book takes place in the future.

– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 3, The Third Day, Part 2, Prayer & The Reformation, Section 10, Bringing Up a Sore Subject, Paragraph 28

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

NIKE: No: I prefer marijuana - would you like some?

INDIE: Is that...marijuana...in there?

NIKE: I sure hope so.

INDIE: What do you call that thing?

NIKE: It's called a hookah.

INDIE: Are you going to smoke it?

NIKE: That's the idea.

INDIE: All right.

NIKE: Have you ever smoked before?

INDIE: Yes.

– Title 2, Regarding the Romaniac, Part 1, Section 28, Sharing a Post-Coital Smoke, Paragraphs 1-10

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Use of Hope in Tsiga Tsiga Tsiga

Bullets whizzing by a statue of Nikola Tesla — 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.

Junior bought a professional hip adduction machine. Within days, Harry Connick had mastered it. Junior attached ropes to his feet. Nyota pulled one way; Ann Taylor, the other. The mild-mannered accountant made both women fall forward. "Sorry," he said. "I-uh-I hope you ladies didn't bruise your knees."

– from “A Horse Named Clutch Bag,” an inspiring story featuring rich people

To the west, the forest was not half as thick. Within minutes, Barbara was on the edge of a long stretch of lawn. Moonlight colored everything an eerie shade of grey. In the distance, the pastel walls of the Château de Bagatelle gleamed. It was hopelessly far away. It didn't matter. Barbara ran.

Luka reached the edge. He was not a slim man. It took him a few moments to catch up. He grabbed Barbara's cloak. He pulled her back. He wrapped himself around her. He clamped her mouth shut.

– from “Paris Is For Rapists, Too,” a ghost story featuring a cloak

"No wonder Indra is offended," said Gog. "Sargon takes upon himself the mantle of the most high. He is possessed by the aka mainyu [i.e., to ancient Iranians, the spirit of evil]. We have no choice but to appease the Asha [i.e., righteousness personified]. Our people have been selected for this duty. They will follow the sea to the mountains. They will raid and plunder the lands of Sargon.

– from “In the Beginning, There was Gog,” a fantasy story featuring a man of hope

They crossed to the far side of the nearest field. They shadowed the road north. Clark wondered why they hadn't just kept driving.

Shephard explained, "I wanted you to practice your camel-riding before taking you into the desert. You're not used to mounting an animal with two humps."

Clark scoffed. "It's better when they don't smell like stale pee."

"Let's hope the next one doesn't."

"Do you honestly think this will help?"

– from “Two Dudes and a Chinese Desert,” a friendship story featuring a kind of love

At the bus station, Shephard was forced to part ways with his new friend. He watched her walk into the gentle Kashgar afternoon, hips swinging in her light, flower-print skirt-in Shephard's mind-to the doleful tune of Korobushka, playing slowly at first in his head, quickening pace with each progressively tantalizing step, until the remains of his hope were crushed. "Game over," he thought to himself. He turned to Clark. He cried. "How could you? You let her slip through our fingers."

– from “Two Dudes and a Chinese Desert,” a friendship story about the adventurous American spirit

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Use of Hope in Sorry Ms. Jackson

Chiseled letters from an ancient stone tablet hanging on a wall — 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: Foka fiti tay rah!

Hoopani Koopani.

Witi tay rah!

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.

– ACT I, lines 368-377

MS. JACKSON: He's in there-

FLETCHER: How did my father know?

MS. JACKSON: Your father is in there-

FLETCHER: Why are you telling strangers how I lost my virginity?

LESBIAN: I'm not a stranger; I'm a guest.

MS. JACKSON: Everybody knows about it.

FLETCHER: What kind of a place is this?

LESBIAN: It's your home.

MS. JACKSON: Listen.

LESBIAN: If I could, I would gladly make it mine.

– ACT I, lines 993-1002

LESBIAN: It's a tiny bug that invades trees and makes them grow abnormal clumps of tissue. It doesn't have to be a tree. I remember my mother's rose-hedge suffering from gall. I had absolutely no idea what it was. I thought it was some kind of strange flower. It started growing these round, fluffy balls of blood-red fiber. I thought it was gorgeous. It has its own name - a beautiful one. It's known as Robin's pincushion.

MS. JACKSON: Oh, Heavens! My pincushion: it's still missing. I'm sorry, Homo. I didn't mean to interrupt.

LESBIAN: It's not a problem.

MS. JACKSON: I don't understand. Who could've taken it?

LESBIAN: Somebody close to you.

MS. JACKSON: Who?

LESBIAN: More importantly, why?

MS. JACKSON: It's only a pincushion.

LESBIAN: I thought it was more than that.

MS. JACKSON: To my family - not to anybody else.

– ACT I, lines 505-514

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.

ALICE: Did you see that performance they put on?

LESBIAN: Absolutely dreadful.

ALICE: I thought it was sexy.

LESBIAN: It reminds me of a dance I saw in Fiji.

– ACT I, lines 394-403

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Use of Hope in Miscellaneous Dingbats

The title of the book at the end of a string of miscellaneous dingbats — A story book full of short fiction stories. An interesting bedtime mystery. A fairy tale. Science fiction romance. Adult life. Uninspiring gay fiction. Horror.

I don't know who decided to make first contact with the woman or who invited her down to our camp but that's where she ended up. She was staying for dinner. Her name was Mary. I thought to myself this is what happens to a hipster's child when he doesn't inherit a bed and breakfast. I wanted to ask Mary about her upbringing but she was too busy sharing with us a finger-painted monist philosophy. She kept mentioning the armature of the universe. She had taken some studio art classes otherwise I doubt she would know the word. She said the armature was penetrating each of us like an alien probe. I decided to beat her at her own game. I brought up the concept of the noosphere and Teilhard de Chardin's unification of consciousness. She had no idea what I was talking about. I hoped her confusion would cow her into shutting up. It didn't.

– from “Woodstock,” a life story based on real life, namely mine

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.

– from “A Black Man in Moscow,” an inspirational story that describes what certain people go through, though hopefully you're not one of them

"Congratulations," moaned Pfizer. He headed back into the lift. "Stupid wormhole jockey." Sara Lee patted his shoulder.

– from “Titan's Reign,” a science fiction story in which hope never appears even when it's traveling at light speed

I got off the bus at a small town. It was a two hour wait for the minibus to the village. People in the square stared at me. I kept hearing the words, "Dirty chocolate. Wipe your face." Something possessed me to buy a towel and a box of chocolates. I walked around with them. It made me feel like I was in on a joke.

– from “A Black Man in Moscow,” an inspirational story that describes life as we have been given it, though hopefully we can change it

My friends kept telling me I was crazy. They said no matter how bad it is in the city at least I have friends. In the village I would have nobody. It was true. I didn't argue. I didn't want them to know what was on my mind. I was thinking what good are friends if they can't protect you. I knew it wasn't their fault.

– from “A Black Man in Moscow,” an inspirational story that describes life on this planet, though hopefully we can change