Michal's films are meant to help women... What does that mean?
Posted:
I don't speak for women. I don't speak for men. I make movies to encourage people to listen not just to loud groups but to quiet individuals and to judge them as if they were judging themselves. I don't need anyone's permission for that. All I need is to know how to listen. It's something I've been working on for a long time.
Having gotten myself to start listening to women, and having gained immense benefit from it, I want to give others a chance to benefit the same way.
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 32: Trenches
Janina describes the kindness her late husband experienced at the hands of an Austrian farmer and his family and the suffering he encountered when he was requisitioned by the Nazi authorities to dig anti-tank trenches on the Austro-Hungarian border.
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.
As an artist, from the beginning of my adult career, my work had been devoted to the problem of body acceptance, a goal that I would later learn was shared by a whole community of people called naturists, a humble portion of which I discovered residing in Poland, a country whose cultural conservatism does not lend itself readily to forward thinking. One of those forward-thinking Polish naturists happened to be 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.
6,000 miles. One car. One tent. We started learning how to listen. We started learning how to open up. We started cooperating. Even when we were angry, even when it was so difficult that it didn't seem like it would turn out well, we stuck it out. We completed the trip and we came back happy. We had beaten the devil on the road. Back home more devils were waiting to abuse us. More anger. More fear. More sadness. This time we were prepared. This time we had each other and we could harken back to the joy and the trust and the suprise that 6,000 miles had created. We could remember what it was like to live in one tent.
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: Fiction Books
I fondly remember the Scholastic Book Club catalogs I got in elementary school when I was a kid. I was always looking forward to getting them. It was fun to read all the descriptions and figure out what types of literature interested me the most, although it was particularly upsetting if a world literature anthology I liked was too expensive to even think about buying. I had to make informed decisions. Otherwise it meant a trip to the library and the hope that somebody else wouldn't have checked out any of my books-to-read.
There was one book that was always at the library but that I never had the courage to check out. It wasn't science fiction. It was a book about sex. I was afraid to hold it. Opening it made my heart race. I was afraid to be seen standing in the aisle. I had to switch aisles. I was a long way from the children's section but this was the one place in my world where I could see what a naked girl my age looked like. In the photograph she was standing in a line of girls and women, each progressively taller, older, rounder, fuller. If I had been able to at the time, I would've given this book a nobel prize just for this photograph. I wanted to know what girls were hiding and this was the one book that had the courage to show me the truth. Just having the chance to see the truth was satisfying, not to mention the fact that I was fascinated by the changes represented in those bodies. That I had to hide myself in a corner of a public library in Lincoln, Nebraska in order to see this truth opened up many questions for me.
The last time I was in a library I saw a grown man sitting in front of a computer unashamedly clicking through pictures of large breasts in bikinis on Facebook. If this man were able to do it, I'm sure he would give Facebook a nobel prize for providing this type of literature. He and I are products of a culture that fetishizes the human body. All primitive cultures fetishize something. They give it a specific charge, either positive or negative. It's the "why" that drives a community. Cowboys drive a herd of cattle by negatively fetishizing the land on either side. Men are driven the same way. For us to build a truly free society, one marked not just by sophisticated technology but also by a sophisticated culture, we will have to destroy the fetishes that drive us.
It doesn't matter what types of literature you like. Whether you like reading science-fiction or sampling world literature of an adult nature, just keep in mind that your choice is a little nobel prize of its own. Your choice dictates what kind of writing takes place. If you want humanity to live like cattle, do nothing. If you want to be a cowboy like me, see the fetish for what it is. Destroy its power.
Pronunciation of Fiction Books
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the words "fiction books."
Video of me pronouncing "fiction books."
Definition of Fiction Books
Fiction Books is what a country rube says when he walks into a library for the first time and can't find the computer station that his friend told him he could go to in order to look up big bikini breasts on Facebook for free.
References for fiction books
I have yet to find good references for Fiction Books
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.
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 #1252
the man called himself louis vuitton. i checked the guestbooks from the twink shack. he put his name down as louis vuitton m.
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.
I remembered one time when a younger Jesus had expressed his fears that someone might break into his father's apartment and steal his books. "That's never happened," his uncle had said. "Someone breaking into a poor man's apartment building and climbing three flights of stairs? To steal his books? Never happened - not in Poland. Maybe in the States, but: I doubt it."
Jesus's father was beyond tears. My sister's disappearance caused only more lethargy and more heroin use. Before long, he refused to eat. He refused to get up out of bed. He stopped selling the few books he had left. If not for the robbery, Jesus would've been forced to sell the television, or worse, the radio. He had stolen six hundred dollars from the Krupnik. My grandmother had once told me the story of how she had robbed an old woman of half a round of cheese and all her bread. "You have not sinned," said the priest. "You did not take her food out of spite or for pleasure, but because you were hungry." Jesus only spent a third of his booty on bread.
Your grandfather started selling his books on the eastern side of Town Square, right in front of your great-grandmother's apartment building. There were other vendors on the western side selling fruit. None of them had licenses. Again, the shopkeepers called the police, who, after cracking down on peddlers along the town's main street, made it to Town Square and asked all of the fruit vendors to leave. One of them was fined for being troublesome. Then the police left. Afterwards, all the vendors came back.
In those days, Jesus had very little money. His father's mother was dead. With her, the retirement pension died. If only she had had fewer friends, or if Jesus's uncle hadn't become a complete waste of time and breath, they could've tried committing pension fraud. As it was, Jesus's father kept selling books and eating heroin and Jesus began trying to sell furniture for food.
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.
I shudder to think of my crude opinion, which now understands that Mr. Macy Williamson was either an actor who did not perform for an audience of one, or else he valued our uncommon intimacy enough to spare me his artifice. If the latter was true, then I was too jealous to understand the compliment.
The vacuum, which actually worked - thank God - was beating the hell out of the shaggy rug, shooting clouds of dust into the room - literally - there was simply too much to suck at any one given place or time.
But it wasn't far to the dormitory. It wasn't long before I was sheltered by the awning of the building, cursing the locked door and cursing Luke for having to live in a dormitory. With no identification, I had to wait for a student to leave and let me in, and then I had to wrangle with a guard. Luckily, it was only a student, and with Luke's key in hand, all that was needed was the most ingenuous of carefully crafted smiles.
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.
Tatum wasn't impressed. "I don't watch sports."
"That's alright. I don't read books." He offered her his hand. "I'm Neal Channing."
Tatum shook the hand-once, firmly. "Viktoria Read."
Uzumaki turned back to the window. "It concerns the investigation. How is it coming?"
Pat knew his reflection was being watched. He tried not to betray any emotion. "I don't have any new leads. I brought the surveillance footage."
"Thank you." The judge glared into the darkness. Pat hated these pregnant pauses. They were unsettling. "Tell me," said Uzumaki. "Are you familiar with W. Vik Read?"
Pat wasn't sure what to say. He replied, "I've read his books."
Tatum replied, "We didn't see eye to eye." She considered it a measure of truth. If she had been honest with herself, she would have known her marriage was doomed. She recalled what she had written in one her books: "abandoning oneself to affection is never the same as deciding one is going to love a person for the rest of one's life."
Miss April wisely changed the subject. She pointed out that stairs on the moon were, on average, three times thicker than on Earth.
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.
"Fiction" does not make an appearance in Sorry Miss Jackson.
- Michal Slaby
GREY GOOSE: Are you saying you didn't squeal to the Aussies?
MS. JACKSON: I'm saying I didn't have to.
GREY GOOSE: Swear to me that you said nothing.
MS. JACKSON: I won't.
GREY GOOSE: Swear to it.
MS. JACKSON: No.
GREY GOOSE: Swear on the Holy Book.
MS. JACKSON: There will be no such swearing in my house.
GREY GOOSE: My house, woman! My house!
MS. JACKSON: Not anymore, you mangy, little womanizing can't-keep-his-hands-off-my-cook's-bottom descendent of a drunken, wife-beating man-whore!
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 remember what she said. She was standing at the door. "Albert is always working," she murmured. "Nonstop: nothing but work, work, work. I'm afraid to leave my child alone with him. One time, he was supposed to be watching her. She jumped out of her crib. Can you believe it? She flipped. I found her on the floor. She was on her back. She was laughing, smiling, as if nothing had happened.
"My husband was five feet away. He was sitting at his desk with his nose in his books. He never even looked.
I used my weekend to visit town. I bought a small grammar and books about local history and the Great Patriotic War. I also bought another box of chocolates.
I met family. I was introduced to a long lost uncle. Some cousins. Things were going great. Until I realized none of these people spoke Ukrainian. They spoke Moldovan. They assured me it was basically Romanian. It didn't help. All the books I had bought were for Ukrainian. All the time I wasted preparing for the trip was spent learning Ukrainian phrases. I was reduced to a repeating series of infantile gestures and nods of my head. I felt supremely embarrassed until the alcohol finally kicked in.
When I got back to Moscow, the door to my apartment was open. Everything inside was broken. I don't know how long the apartment had been left open like that. Probably all winter. There were droppings all over the floor. All over the books that weren't stolen.
The year came and went faster than Sir Lewis could've hoped. Before he knew it he was settled into his dorm. He had his books. His final schedule. Syllabi for every class. He even had his homework done for about half his professors. It was time for math club.
It's natural to hide dirty things. They're embarrassing. But we need to keep in mind that when we hide things that are difficult, we make them seem dirty when they're really something else entirely. And when we keep things that are easy in plain sight, we make them seem clean when they really aren't. That is dangerous.
Help keep the "Fiction Books" page up and running...
If you love women and art...
Michal is importing art...is he bonkers?
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.