Help End Discrimination 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...

One week after arriving in Europe, I met a woman in the sauna on the ground floor of the large villa she shared with her ex-husband. Four weeks later she was sharing a small rain-soaked tent with me in Vienna, our little gas-fired stove barely capable of boiling a cup of water. It wasn't until we reached Croatia that we decided to invest in a large electric kettle. It was quite the luxury and it made me very happy.

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.

Being from America, all I had to do in Europe was turn on the radio to hear an American song. All I had to do was walk into a movie theater to see an American movie. To be understood all I had to do was speak English. Being from Poland, she couldn't stand listening to the radio for all the political nonsense being bandied about. She didn't like watching American movies because she claimed they all ended the same way. She didn't want to speak English with me because she not only wanted to say things correctly but she wanted to say them her way and nobody had ever succeeded in teaching her how. I desperately wanted to understand. She wanted to be understood.

Each man grows up with his own kind of poverty. Even if he's got a warm house and plenty of food and a soft bed and plenty of entertainment, there's always something that a man needs. Sometimes he just needs to be listened to, if only by the birds and the trees, but preferably by another man, even if he's an artist from America who isn't very good at listening. By learning how to listen, we learn how to cooperate. By cooperating, we build a better world. In a better world, there are no devils to abuse us. A better world doesn't lend itself to abuse because a better world is populated by people who have learned how to listen.

One of Margo's pictures from our trip across Europe. — 6,000 miles across Europe with a complete stranger
**Day 38**
8/26/2011
⚗ 7༜♊²⁵/₂₄♀
Poble Naturista El Fonoll
Between Forés and Passanant in Tarragona, 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 38**
8/26/2011
⚗ 7༜♊²⁵/₂₄♀
Poble Naturista El Fonoll
Between Forés and Passanant in Tarragona, 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.

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 #2980

pandora's playing like an old lady. ive bet more on marbles. by the time we get outside itll be dark. which is probably the idea. romance.

JC Penney

28 August, 7:54 PM

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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.

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."

– Verse 592 from the chapter called Adolescence

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.

"Was it good?" I asked. "Robbing a Krupnik?"

– Verses 665-666 from the chapter called Adolescence

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.

– Verse 70 from the chapter called Adolescence

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.

– Verse 355 from the chapter called Adolescence

"How did you know this is nineteenth century?"

"You're surprised?" I asked.

"Most people don't know that."

"I read books," I said.

– Verses 537-540 from the chapter called Bohemia

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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.

Now that I've organized my thoughts, I think I've discovered something: that which is purely love has a very specific nature, which is not shared by the many other things we associate with it. These things can be distinguished by their place of origin. Thanks to the body, we experience attraction, otherwise known as 'eros,' a feeling based on sexual desire that turns us into 'lovers.' Thanks to the spirit, or what we otherwise call the heart, we experience enthusiastic devotion, which springs from a combination of higher feelings, what we otherwise call emotions, which are based on personal ties. These feelings are the basis of 'romance,' which, out of all things associated with love, is the most subject to personality, and which, depending on what our personalities are like, turns us into 'spouses,' whether we espouse a person or a cause.

– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 7, The Seventh Day, Part 1, Strength & Security Sector Reform, Section 2, Facing a Choice, Paragraph 3

ANDY: That's exactly what I'm trying to help you with: of all people, Macy, you should know how many different kinds of love there be in this world. Sex and romance have almost nothing to do with them.

MACY: ...

– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 5, The Fifth Day, Part 1, Greenery & Land Reform, Section 2, The Risk of Being Labelled Insensitive, Paragraphs 51-52

Much to my pacification, Macy thanked me and assured me that he was in fact in the theatre - at least involved with it on campus, which delighted me, since I had a friend who did likewise, and I promptly enquired if he knew Nike, which he did, much to my great satisfaction, for Nike had always been a great gentleman, besides being the ingeniously dramatic person he is. And so it was that Nike became a fabulous topic for us. As we explored the absurdity of his tendencies, it stood us in good stead especially when my cousin was unable to join us, she herself being a great amusement.

– Title 1, Regarding Peaches and Bananas, Part 2, Section 4, Meeting a Man in Austria, Paragraph 6

It made me wonder what kind of people were giving Luke his reputation these days. They can't be that much different from the ones we knew: no self-respecting woman would ever shag in that apartment - but I guess that goes for men too. In fact, what self-respecting person would ever choose to have anything to do with Luke in the first place? He can't possibly be raping them - the walls are too thin - unless he uses drugs - ah, but let us not speak of that.

– Title 1, Regarding Peaches and Bananas, Part 2, Section 2, Letting It Steam, Paragraph 1, Clauses 6-9

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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.

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."

"What about the 'W?'"

"What about it?"

"What does it stand for?"

"I'll tell you when I trust you."

Neal laughed. "I'm not keeping tabs on you."

"What are you doing?"

– from “Dirty Manga People Are Disgusting,” a spooky story featuring the dark side of the moon

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."

"Are they good?"

– from “Dirty Manga People Are Disgusting,” a spooky story featuring aliens and murder

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.

– from “Dirty Manga People Are Disgusting,” a spooky story featuring a moon colony for aliens

Neal chuckled. "The harder they come, the easier they fall. We've already made you a fan."

"I wouldn't bet on it."

Neal sidled up against her. "I'll tell you what: for every game you don't attend, I'll read one of your books."

Tatum laughed. "You'll make me write new ones."

Neal smiled. "You'll be at a loss for words."

– from “Dirty Manga People Are Disgusting,” a spooky story featuring aliens who do things people aren't ready to accept

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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.

"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!

– ACT I, lines 271-280

(GREY GOOSE exits. ALICE and FLETCHER enter with scripts in hand.)

FLETCHER: Thank you for doing this. I appreciate it immensely.

ALICE: It's my pleasure. I love supporting new plays and new playwrights. Is this a comedy or a tragedy?

FLETCHER: I suppose it's more of a romance.

ALICE: Which part am I playing?

FLETCHER: You are Tera-ura. I'm playing Thursday October: Fletcher Christian's son.

ALICE: Cute name.

FLETCHER: He was named after his birthday, despite the fact that he was born on the third day of the week. I guess Wednesday October would've sounded more like a girl's name.

ALICE: Am I a Tahitian woman?

FLETCHER: You're not just any Tahitian woman; you're my ancestor.

– ACT II, lines 31-39

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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.

Captain Orbitz came from a long line of distinguished galactic luminaries. His father and his brother had been martyred in a great battle against the forces of Scutum-Centauris. His grandfather was a delagate to the Grand Orion Council from the planet Vancouver. His lineage went all the way to one of the leaders of the original humanoid slave revolt. He was sacrosanct. When his name was red-flagged at the security bureau it was summarily dismissed as an error. It was red-flagged again. And again. Somebody by the name of Rishi Keplar Jorgen Tycho Kalvinicus Orbitz was having associations with the outlawed Wiki-en Society. People went crazy. They wanted him arrested. They wanted him interrogated. There was only one problem. Orbitz was on assignment. He was the second longest-serving courier in the Alliance. He was traversing a wormhole.

– from “The Death and Life of Captain Orbitz,” a science fiction romance inspired by Stanislaw Lem, if you know who that is

The Amazon called his team. One half was still following Orbitz on the cruise ship. The other half was in front of the shop. He ordered them into the neon building. They walked up to the second floor. The team leader paused. He could hear something in the room ahead. It sounded like a man rapping his fingers on a desk. He pushed open the door. There was no desk. There was no man. There was clutter everywhere. Strange objects of art and furniture stacked on top of each other loomed from every corner. The rapping continued. It was slower now. It was more cautious. The men squeezed into the room. All of them were transfixed by the sound. It was coming from behind a low curtain. The curtain was draped over what seemed like a crate. Or a cage. The men crowded in front of it. The leader reached out his hand. He grabbed a corner of the curtain. He lifted it.

– from “The Death and Life of Captain Orbitz,” a science fiction romance written out of respect for Stanislaw Lem, if you know who that is

"I don't know what you're talking about," said the shopkeeper. He squinted his eyes. His hand moved underneath the counter.

– from “The Death and Life of Captain Orbitz,” a science fiction romance in the spirit of Stanislaw Lem, if you know who that is

"This is truth," said the Astrazeneca.

Sara Lee was shown a picture of Captain Orbitz. She was asked if she had ever met the man. She squinted. She thought about it. She said, "Yes."

"This is truth," said the Astrazeneca.

– from “The Death and Life of Captain Orbitz,” a science fiction romance dictated by my respect for Stanislaw Lem, if you know who that is

One day Orbitz finally emerged from his hotel room. He was carrying what looked like a book. He went into the shop. "It's you again," said the shopkeeper. "What do you want?" Orbitz said nothing. He dropped the book on the counter and left. One half of the surveillance team followed him all the way to the space port. The other half decided to find out what was going on. They raided the shop. They found nothing. The book Orbitz had been carrying was an antique. It was stamped with the name of the hotel. When one of the agents went to the hotel to ask about it the clerk behind the desk wanted it back. He said every room was supposed to have one. It was tradition. He had no idea why. He said the owner would get mad if one of them disappeared. The owner was questioned about the book. He said the same thing. It was tradition. Every room had a book. Every book was the same. He didn't know why. He didn't care to know. The Amazon cared. According to his sources there was a chance the book had a connection to the Wiki-en Society. He ordered the hotel closed. He arrested the owner and the entire staff. They proved themselves innocent quickly. The Astrazeneca found no deception in them. The shopkeeper was different. He was held long after the others had been released. He wasn't lying about Orbitz. He had never seen the man before in his life. He was lying about the way he did business. He claimed he was an honest businessman. It was a lie. He claimed he knew a good bargain when he saw one. Another lie. The Amazon wondered what was happening. Orbitz had gone from the space port to a low orbit cruise ship. Aboard the same ship was Sara Lee. The scientist who had confounded the Astrazeneca in the first place. He assigned a surveillance team to watch her. She walked around and gazed at the blue planet. She didn't see Orbitz at all.

– from “The Death and Life of Captain Orbitz,” a science fiction romance written with Stanislaw Lem in mind, if you know who that is