Help Prevent Rape 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.

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.

I had an American passport. She didn't. And the fact that I was driving a car with Polish license plates gave her ample opportunity to point out the difference. It wasn't just police and border guards who ethnically profiled me. Regular folks did it too. One campsite owner didn't shake my hand until he realized I was an American. By that point, I had trained myself to use a simplified English, something that more closely resembled what passes for a lingua franca in Europe these days. Something Margo was trying very hard to master.

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 -13**
7/7/2011
⚖ 18༚♊²⁵/₂₄♀
Sauna Cezar
Bielsko-Biała, Poland
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 -13**
7/7/2011
⚖ 18༚♊²⁵/₂₄♀
Sauna Cezar
Bielsko-Biała, Poland
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.

Samples of Fiction from Michal's Corpus

Michal's Fiction Corpus of Acceptance Literature (FiCAL) is presented under the Bare Bottom imprint. It is currently comprised of six bodies of work, each representing a different pillar of culture and incorporating a wide variety of writhing styles.

If you're wondering...

How do I use this?

Just click on a title to see examples of "fiction" 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 Samples of Fiction: 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.”

Back to Samples of Fiction: Table of Contents

Samples of Fiction from 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 #2158

during the whole thing harley barely put two sentences together. i feel bad. to think we once spent that night in the trailer park.

Justin Bieber

18 August, 9:26 PM

Frame #2251

its dawn. i think. its barely breaking through the clouds. kohls's car is still here.

Sprint "Iphone" Case

20 August, 6:29 AM

Frame #5231

if i do go out in a raft. ill need a supply of food and water. at least a few days worth. so far i can barely put together a meal.

Sprint "Iphone" Case

11 November, 11:34 AM

Frame #1675

i can barely keep my eyes open. jail is not the place to catch up on your sleep.

Justin Bieber

14 August, 9:31 AM

Frame #5486

the closer i get to the water the more damage i see. foundations of houses. debris. bare earth. its like no shore was left untouched.

Sprint "Iphone" Case

23 November, 11:47 AM

Back to Samples of Fiction: Table of Contents

Samples of Fiction from 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.

Your father's hand roamed around from one breast to the other, down to the waist and back. In stages, his hand neared your mother's crotch as each succeeding trip to the waist became longer and farther down. By the time your hungry father's hand was lodged underneath your mother's extraordinarily strong waistband, she was squirming around like a three-year-old girl. Jesus was truly surprised, but pride tempered his feelings. Of course your mother was excited - why shouldn't she be?

– Verse 634 from the chapter called Security

Reaching among his clothes, from his breast pocket, he carefully removed the black and white picture.

– Verse 818 from the chapter called Security

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Samples of Fiction from 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.

My knees began shaking, and before it was too obvious, I got up and realized how weak my legs were. Walking as steadily as I could to the kitchen, I found it mercifully deserted. After pacing for a brief moment, I decided to take a shot of liquor, but my whole body was shaking: my legs were shaking, my shoulders, my arms were shaking and my hands were shaking. I leaned against the counter and my hands were calm, then my arms were calm even though my shoulders continued to shake. I tried to stand upright, but my breast began to shudder, and my breath was shuddering too. And then my whole body shuddered - mercifully so, because after that I was relatively in control, and could only complain of a little trembling.

– Title 1, Regarding Peaches and Bananas, Part 2, Section 9, Attacking homosexuality, Paragraph 2, Clauses 10-16

Your presence in your words was comforting, and I confess that, until now, I have suffered from your absence, and I held myself, by all accounts, among the lonelier of men - and all despite my attractive company. But without you, Sister, I am like a cloud without a storm, like a steppe without a fire, like a stable without a horse: I am too open for these times; I am too vulnerable to be sitting in this hospital by myself. Luckily, there's this letter I'm writing; your letter I have too: I keep it in my breast pocket. I have underlined all the best parts, and the parts with which I disagree - but those are of little importance.

– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 2, Poetics, Paragraph 4, Clauses 8-12

Back to Samples of Fiction: Table of Contents

Samples of Fiction from 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.

The man hesitated. "Don't be a twig," said Debbie, picking up a breast in one hand and a thigh in the other. "Go play basketball like a real man."

– from “A Horse Named Clutch Bag,” an inspiring story featuring a bunch of animals

Positioning himself over a pool window, Patsy prayed. "Please, God, let somebody see me." Everybody was swimming breast stroke. "Are you kidding me?" cried Patsy. "After all the stroking I've done for you, this is how you repay me? Sidestroke! Why isn't that more popular?"

– from “A Cop Named Patsy,” a funny story featuring a frank discussion of police power

Back to Samples of Fiction: Table of Contents

Samples of Fiction from 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.

(ALICE exits.)

GREY GOOSE: Alone at last.

KOKOMO: You've done your business: now leave.

GREY GOOSE: There's more. I need your help.

KOKOMO: Again?

GREY GOOSE: Yes.

KOKOMO: I'm not your little plaything.

GREY GOOSE: Do you want to be thrown out? I didn't think so. Come with me to the kitchen. I need those tender little hands.

KOKOMO: This is the last time, Grey Goose. You've made me sore from all your stupid amusements. I can barely even walk or lift a finger. I'm totally spent.

GREY GOOSE: Don't pretend you don't like it.

– ACT I, lines 852-860

(GREY GOOSE and LUKE exit.)

MS. JACKSON: Barbarians.

ALICE: Some honeymoon: Luke spends more time with your husband than he does with me.

MS. JACKSON: He can have him. I do feel sorry for you, Alice.

ALICE: I don't mind. He makes up for it with other, more important qualities of manliness.

LESBIAN: Is he large?

ALICE: Yes.

MS. JACKSON: How large?

ALICE: Massive. I can barely take it.

LESBIAN: I don't know if I would like that.

– ACT I, lines 385-393

MS. JACKSON: You must be falling asleep after such a long day.

FLETCHER: Mother.

LESBIAN: I can barely keep my eyes open.

FLETCHER: Excuse me.

MS. JACKSON: That's a problem.

LESBIAN: Why?

MS. JACKSON: The laundry's not done. I'll have to take fresh sheets from the sofa bed.

LESBIAN: Don't bother. I'll sleep in here for now.

MS. JACKSON: Are you sure?

LESBIAN: It'll only be for a nap.

– ACT II, lines 262-271

GREY GOOSE: No. You're a good kid. I know that. I only wish I could've been a better father.

FLETCHER: You were good enough.

GREY GOOSE: I wasn't.

FLETCHER: You only hit me - what? Once? I deserved it.

GREY GOOSE: I made it count.

FLETCHER: I barely felt it.

GREY GOOSE: Come on.

FLETCHER: It's better than what you had. I'm grateful.

GREY GOOSE: I'm going to miss this place.

FLETCHER: You're not out yet.

– ACT I, lines 1277-1286

Back to Samples of Fiction: Table of Contents

Samples of Fiction from 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.

Steve, Peter and I wandered around for a while. We spotted Mary walking down the sidewalk. We didn't stop to say hello. We went to a bar. There was barely anyone there. A guy on the patio was seated with his dog. Steve was a dog owner. It gave him a reason to chat. I focused on the bar girl but not to my benefit.

– from “Woodstock,” a life story based on what really happened, namely to the author

"I saw the two of them down by the court," said the young woman. She was talking about Matt and Parker. She whispered, "I think they're doing it." Jessica puckered her mouth in excitement. She was grateful to be off the grindstone. Her beer-fueled dalliance with the old man fueled giggles and shakes of the head for days. She was the youngest counselor. Barely eighteen.

I considered mentioning Matt's condoms. I thought better of it.

– from “A Magnum Condom,” a bedtime story to teach children about the real world that may or may not work

I killed a cat. It was an accident. I was trying to cut its fur. I wanted to show Kelly the ugliness of a shaved pussy. I don't deserve two years of prison for it. Cruelty to animals is nothing next to how humans treat each other. They put me in the same prison I used to guard. At the very least I know which of these bitches aren't shaved. Those are the ones I can fuck. Even when I was a kid I couldn't stand a bare floor. All the blood stains and grime and guts on the linoleum in the kitchen. It was disgusting. It always curled up at the edges. Like Kelly's toes. As soon as I get out of here I'll find that girl. I'll get her the biggest razor I can find.

– from “Two Years,” an adult fiction story about a lady at a women's prison

Proctor backed out of the bathroom. He looked at the window. There was a fire escape outside. It went up to the loft. Proctor went to look outside. He realized the window was unlocked. He locked it. He shut the curtain. He walked to the front door. He looked outside. The hallway was empty. Proctor tiptoed out. He tried to shut the door as quietly as he could. It wouldn't shut all the way. The frame was broken. Proctor left it. He started soft-shoeing his way down the hall. He could barely swallow his spit. There was a rock in his throat. The stairs seemed like they were getting farther and farther. He finally reached them. The stairwell was empty. He walked down the stairs. The lobby was empty. Proctor took a deep breath. He went outside. He waved to the policeman in the patrol car. He got to his own car. He drove off.

– from “We Need To Talk,” a mystery story featuring a former flame put in a weird position

My thoughts raced. What was going on? I imagined leaning over and kissing her. I shook my head. Why would I think that? I considered putting my hand on her knee. What for? Nonsense. I remembered how I grasped her bare buttocks. My God. What had I done?

– from “St. Andrew's Eve,” a story of love that may ease one's sense of distaste depending on your outlook