Help End Psychological Manipulation 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.

I knew naturism was popular in many parts of Europe and as an artist who had worked on body acceptance for his entire career I was keen on documenting some small part of it. Lo and behold, I found a very important part of it hiding in Poland. Her name was Margo.

I was from America, land of the free...home of the brave. She carried the weight of Old Europe...domestic and religious poverties...stifled creativity. Anger. Sadness. Yearning.

I've never been married. I've never been divorced. I've never had kids. I've never lost my kids. That doesn't mean I can't try to understand somebody who has. By listening to Margo during our trip across Europe I started to consider her needs as if they were my own. I may not have been in a position to satisfy all of those needs, but I was able to shut up and put my own needs aside if I had to for at least 6,000 miles. We all need to be listened to and it is the one need that we all have a duty to satisfy. When somebody prays to another human, as a human you have a duty to listen. Humanity needs to start teaching itself that skill.

One of Margo's pictures from our trip across Europe. — 6,000 miles across Europe with a complete stranger
**Day 16**
8/4/2011
⚖ 15༛♊²⁵/₂₄♀
Camping Club Léman
Préverenges, Switzerland
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 16**
8/4/2011
⚖ 15༛♊²⁵/₂₄♀
Camping Club Léman
Préverenges, Switzerland
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 #115

expedia - thanks. you can put all the paperwork by my desk. you know how i like it. spread out on the floor.

Sprint "Iphone" Case

27 July, 10:50 AM

Frame #123

ive got the bailpiece. barry was a little coy about giving it to me. im not sure if thats out of loyalty to his own men or to chase.

Sprint "Iphone" Case

27 July, 1:52 PM

Frame #32

i will now shorten hey you guys to just hey.

Sprint "Iphone" Case

26 July, 10:52 AM

Frame #24

bieber got the message. i will now create a group id for the entire office. with the exception of chase. he doesnt need an excuse to mess up.

Sprint "Iphone" Case

26 July, 10:32 AM

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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.

In those days, women wore anything that resembled something from a famous hand-tinted photograph from the nineteenth century. There was a free catalog available on the Internet, listing all the famous collections and the most famous photographs, organizing them by date or location, or photographer, painter, model - every criterion available - but especially by women's dress. The crinoline; the cage crinoline, dome and pyramid, flat in front; the crinolette; and the bustle were all represented in their various forms and colors. Even pornographic photographs were readily available to show off every type of undergarment. Famous women wore bloomers underneath their petticoats: the kind with an open crotch and single button, which made it much easier to have sex fully clothed, a favorite and celebrated pastime for the elites.

– Verse 18 from the chapter called Childhood

"What?" She ripped herself away from his arms. "Why not?" She was walking away. "Don't walk away from me." Jesus ran in front of her and grabbed her shoulders again. She ripped herself free and turned around, walking the other direction. "Where are you going?" Jesus asked. She kept walking. Finally, Jesus ran up alongside. Immediately, she turned around, like a stubborn cow, and walked the other way. "Stop playing games." She was silent. "Why don't you want to kiss me? Zoe?" She was playing dumb. "Listen to me." Jesus grabbed her again. "What's going on?"

– Verse 1051 from the chapter called Security

"It's not gonna set me free, now is it?" asked Jesus, smiling.

– Verse 167 from the chapter called Security

But that would presuppose that Baron Cohen-Krupnik thought Jesus would become some kind of freedom fighter, which undoubtedly was the farthest thing from his Krupnik mind: that foolish business partner of his had betrayed him for cash, for the arms or something like that - Baron Cohen-Krupnik was no doubt the most confused man in Wroclaw that night, but no matter what he thought was going on, he was no doubt sure of himself, his capabilities, and the undisputable fact that he, Baron Cohen-Krupnik, was not one to be betrayed, especially not by some greedy, little snot-nosed kid - Baron Cohen-Krupnik was going to get it all back (or at least, most of it), in which case, there was no reason to call off his little 'mistake.' The real mistake was trusting Jesus's greed: Jesus's greed was not one to be trusted.

– Verse 428 from the chapter called Arms

In the following minutes, your mother kept wiggling herself downward. At first, Jesus had no idea what was going on. (His left hand was cupping her breast.) Then he realized: she was pushing up her shirt. Her brassiere was gone, having been removed before going to bed. Jesus was perfectly free to place his cupping hand around her waist, and then, on the way back to where it just had been, to slip it ever so innocently underneath her shirt and to place it directly on her naked skin. He did that. Your mother was now breathing heavily.

– Verse 633 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.

But by describing this malaise, I do not mean to imply that these people are accustomed to death - that is a good thing if they have it; my suspicion is that many of these people - and not just in the hospital but outside as well - many of these people walking around are unaccustomed to life. I'm not sure what I mean - perhaps I mean that these people are too familiar with their pedestrian existence - but no matter what I mean, I do have the feeling that many of the patients here would know what I'm trying to describe - I'm sure those people have plenty of poetry to share - but they are not in this room with me, are they? They are not locked in a room with a sleeping dead man; nor do I think they are trying to give their sisters poetry. They are trying to survive, and that is plenty poetic for anyone.

– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 2, Poetics, Paragraph 6, Clauses 5-8

Most of the situations do not stimulate the feeling in a way that singles out one aspect from the others, and consequently, it is not really reminding me of anything specific. Nor is the feeling necessarily dependent on visual perception. The stimulation is usually visual, but only because I am usually looking at what is going on around me. I suspect that bodily presence has more to do with it. The mere proximity of another living body is enough to stimulate my own organism, and even if I were blind and deaf or totally insensible, I think I would still find myself being stimulated. My organism would sense the other by itself, independent of my nervous system, and I would still feel that body of mine crying out to the other. Is that not a strange feeling?

– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 5, Inflammation of the Loins, Paragraph 2, Clauses 10-16

I wonder how much money she spends on this arrangement. I'm working pro bono, but I don't think that's true for the hospital staff. On the other hand, they aren't really doing much work. The private room is what she's paying for, and consequently, few people walk in here - that's what makes it so lonely. I find myself talking to Albert once in a while, but he doesn't care for my conversation. I think I must bore him to death. Ha. You see: I'm getting accustomed - and it's only the first day.

– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 3, Wondering, Paragraph 2

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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.

Kwon said, "If Jing gives birth, the creatures will take her child. They will eat it. They know about the bellies. Bo must have told them. The one who came was looking for my wife. I scared it off. I followed it down the river. I saw the cave where they live. It's on the shore of a vast ocean. Jing must be there. You would never free her. Guards were everywhere with spears."

Bei wailed. She pulled her hair. She cried, "What will I do?"

– from “How Tae & Bo Took Over the World and Kung & Fu Didn't,” an apocryphal bible story about a bunch of people who start a civilization

Miss April got close. Tatum put her hands on the woman's hips. They kissed three times. They embraced. Tatum nuzzled her face into Miss April's soft, blond hair. She broke off. She picked up her bags. She walked away. She passed the line for passengers. She told herself not to turn around. She did. She smiled. Miss April waved. Tatum looked away. She had come to the moon to avoid these things.

The passport officer checked Tatum's papers for longer than necessary. He beckoned for a guard. A bewildered Tatum was escorted into a room. Inside stood Doc Uzumaki.

– from “Dirty Manga People Are Disgusting,” a spooky story featuring a frank discussion of what it means to belong

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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.

MS. JACKSON: What about my heirloom?

GREY GOOSE: What heirloom?

MS. JACKSON: The one you stole.

GREY GOOSE: I didn't steal anything.

MS. JACKSON: Don't lie to me.

GREY GOOSE: I didn't.

LESBIAN: I did. I packed it away in my bag. I have two tickets for tonight's flight: one for me and one for you. Come. We'll explore the world as your ancestors did: the English and the Polynesians. They went from west to east; we'll go from east to west. We'll show the lost and the lovelorn what true devotion means. We'll scale Victory Peak in China. We'll sail the Punjab. We'll get lost in Gargas Cave. We'll bathe in the hot springs beneath Mount Hekla. We'll catch a Broadway show. We'll do some shopping at Shinjuku Station. We'll do anything your heart desires. All you have to do is liberate yourself. Let your passions run free. Someday we'll return to your native land. It won't ever be the same again. Nevermore will you be shamed. Woman, you'll have made the entire world yours.

MS. JACKSON: Nameless Pain! How am I to deny a penitent husband - newly birthed in remorse, in truth, in love, and desirous of similar gifts from me, his lawfully wedded wife, who, for so long, and with so many tears, kept watch over this heretofore seemingly endless and vain gestation - yet relish this sudden appearance of life: this infant curiosity: this foundling whose love demands more than my adoption could ever give? Oh, Homo: a thousand hearts couldn't beat as strongly as you have made mine beat. This is my home. I can no sooner leave it than change my body for that of a man. The world is yours; go out there and take it. Please leave me in peace. I beg you.

LESBIAN: I'll go. Though it pains me more than female circumcision, I'll go. I'll go because I love you.

– ACT II, lines 357-365

LUKE: Why not? You've lived in peace for so long.

FLETCHER: If by peace you mean we've committed just about every crime except murder.

ALICE: Is that true?

MS. JACKSON: My son likes to exaggerate.

FLETCHER: Consider it. In a community of such close quarters with nowhere to go, the only thing you can't ignore is a dead body. Besides that, anything goes.

MS. JACKSON: Feel free to ignore my son's imagination.

FLETCHER: The next time I'm selected for a jury, I'm not going to lie when they ask me if I've ever been accused or been the victim of a crime.

ALICE: You lied?

FLETCHER: I said no.

MS. JACKSON: When have you been the victim of a crime?

– ACT I, lines 112-121

LUKE: Whacko! I better get meself back to the post.

ALICE: What for?

LUKE: We need money: three thousand dollars worth. That's the price of freedom!

– ACT I, lines 1072-1074

LESBIAN: How would he feel if he saw us?

MS. JACKSON: What does it matter?

LESBIAN: It does.

MS. JACKSON: Why?

LESBIAN: I don't want hurt him either.

MS. JACKSON: Is that what you're afraid of? Are you afraid of what people might say?

LESBIAN: That's ridiculous.

MS. JACKSON: Are you afraid of having to stay here on Norfolk?

LESBIAN: I'm not afraid of anything.

MS. JACKSON: Neither am I. I'm not afraid anymore. I'm not afraid of arson or gossip or what people might say if they knew about us. I've been set free from all of those things. I'm no longer afraid of being hurt. Oh, Homo! Do you know what I suffered? It was worse than any prison. The walls were all around my heart. It was like being perpetually pinched. I am grateful to you for saving me from all of that pain. You showed me freedom.

– ACT I, lines 899-908

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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.

"Hungary brought it upon herself. She should never have strayed toward the United Nations. She was faithless."

"She was looking for freedom."

"She was asking for a spanking."

"You are saying she should have put up with the Kremlin?"

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

I checked the clock. Thirty seconds to midnight. I dropped the keys. I unbuttoned my sweater. I tore it off. I threw it towards the couch. I pulled up my dress. I twisted out of it. I dropped it. I brushed down the straps of my bra. I reached back. I wrenched apart the clasp. My breasts bounced free. I dropped the bra. I rolled down my tights. I almost tripped. I yanked them off. I shoved down my panties. They fell to my feet. I pulled one leg out. My toes got caught. I flapped them around. They were loose. I kicked the panties behind me.

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

The bank on the corner of Lima and Rebelo streets was a big bank. It had a glass tower reaching up into the heavens like every other building in the area. It was an old bank. Its first two floors were refreshingly free of the massive luxury watch billboards and perfume ads that littered the eye in every direction. The walls were made of stone. Walking further I realized it was just a facade. But the wall that ran perpendicular to Lima and Rebelo streets had a gallery on the second floor. It was the one old thing of substance I could see. The one part of the old building you could actually stand on. For a second I imagined myself in 19th century China as if I were a young Rebelo in love with a young Lima whose father owned the bank and whom I was dangerously wooing from the street with a bouquet of flowers. The world was beautiful and full of hope. Until the garbage truck honked for me to get out of the way.

– from “Beautiful Branca,” a true story that includes fiction as far as I can tell

The people are the ones who set me free. I don't care how you twist it. I didn't stir people up. My father didn't stir people up. He explained to them what happened. I did what I had to do. I wasn't about to be punished for something people just didn't understand. People didn't want to understand what happened. They've got more important things to worry about. But at least they listened. My father told them not to take his last child and they had mercy. For him. Not for me. They would've killed me.

– from “The Testament of Publio Orazio,” a horror story based on good intentions coming straight out of Roman mythology

Inside the cage stood a pretty little girl with the legs of a giant spider. From behind those legs a hairy abdomen suddenly poked down. It spewed a thin secretion across the faces of the men. They cried out and dropped to the floor. They started writhing in pain. Their movements jerked more and more until their limbs finally locked in a rigid posture. They heard helplessly the sound of a man calmly climbing up the stairs. It was Orbitz. The men recognized him. Unable to express their shock their eyes blazed with confusion and fury. Orbitz knelt among them. "I'm sorry," he said. "The creature poisoned you with a paralytic. At this dosage it's fatal. I didn't want any of you to die. It wasn't up to me. She didn't want to take any chances with her freedom. I wish I could stay with you until the end. Unfortuately the creature has a short refractory period. I have to surgically remove her gland before she's capable of killing me."

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