Help Replace Mind control With Truth in 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...

Europe, the summer of 2011. Twelve countries. 46 days. One car. One tent. One man. One woman he's 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 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.

Despite the cops in Vienna. Despite the rain in Veržej. Despite getting lost in Italy. Despite parting at Soest. Despite that night in Amsterdam. Despite our fight in Lisieux. Despite the storm in the Bois de la Roche. Despite that terrible morning outside Collonges. Despite the long road to Pielenhofen, we came back safe and sound and most importantly we were happy. We had started to learn how to listen. We had left the devils of the road behind and the devils ahead seemed just a little bit smaller. We had started to open up.

One of Margo's pictures from our trip across Europe. — 6,000 miles across Europe with a complete stranger
**Day 34**
8/22/2011
♫ 3༜♊²⁵/₂₄♀
Koad Ar Roc'h
Neant Sur Yvel, France
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 34**
8/22/2011
♫ 3༜♊²⁵/₂₄♀
Koad Ar Roc'h
Neant Sur Yvel, France
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.

Pronunciation of Printable 2014 Calendars

I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the words "printable 2014 calendars."

Video of me pronouncing "printable 2014 calendars."

Definition of Printable 2014 Calendars

Printable 2014 Calendars are calendars that include a date grid for 2013 that you can print out on your desktop printer.

References for printable 2014 calendars

I have yet to find good references for Printable 2014 Calendars

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 #2013

i found java's building. its crowded over here. i passed the only parking spot on the block. ill have to go around.

Justin Bieber

17 August, 3:09 PM

Frame #254

i feel threatened by reddit. i dont know why. its not like me to be afraid of professional women. i like them. theyre dizy. what could it be.

Sprint "Iphone" Case

28 July, 11:30 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.

Our most important surveillance work was in Wroclaw's Town Square, close to the Rathaus, which Jesus had thoroughly searched during our defense of the Old Town. Finding out where the building archives were, Jesus had made copies of all the blueprints for properties owned by anyone named Krupnik. One property was particularly interesting. It turned out, the Rathaus Club, a dance club in the middle of Wroclaw's Town Square (close to the Town Hall, or, in German, Rathaus), not surprisingly, was indeed owned by Leonard Cohen-Krupnik. This was the dance club which Columbus had played the very same night he met my sister's killer. It was very exclusive. Both the basement and the ground floor had popular dance floors. They were large and spacious; the ceiling on the ground floor was high enough to accommodate a crystal ball two meters in diameter. The second floor was a private lounge for private guests only. The third and fourth floors had private rooms and offices. Leonard Cohen-Krupnik was often there when he was in Wroclaw. He did business in the center office on the fourth floor. His window looked over the alleyway that went through the buildings in the middle of Town Square. From one of those buildings, our cameras looked on.

– Verse 229 from the chapter called Security

"Why not?"

"I just can't."

"Can't you print me a new one?"

"No," said the man.

"Why not?"

– Verses 142-146 from the chapter called Adolescence

Jesus danced. Spinning your mother around, he led her like the Sun leads the Earth. She followed like the Earth is followed by the Moon. They spun like the universe has and always will. Like the particles of life, they spun, dancing to the edge of the crossing and down the transept and into the hall. They danced onto the patios and through the porticos and down the grand staircase into the sacred forest, where the Virgin Mary was believed to have left her sacred footprint.

– Verse 105 from the chapter called Vows

Jesus followed them onto the main road. He knew that they were parked at Town Square - he had seen their car on the way back to the club: who else could possibly have driven a custom-made sports car into Treblinka? Only a Krupnik. As far as Jesus knew, this was the only Krupnik in town that night. If his car was parked at Town Square, Jesus could beat them to it. At the fork in the road (where the Town Office Building was), Jesus veered left, onto Church Road, which led directly to the Church of Sts. Peter and Paul - whereas they had turned right, continuing along the main road which led directly to Town Square. Jesus started running. He ran all along Church Road, uphill, turning right onto Linden Flower Road in front of the brick church's red walls and black-shuttered windows, which were closed. He sprinted all the way to the main road. When he got there, he wasn't sure if he were late or on time; he wasn't about to check around the corner. He put his back against the wall.

– Verse 612 from the chapter called Adolescence

For three weeks, your mother collected information on the Rathaus Club's security system: where the closed-circuit television monitoring cameras were, where the trained security guards were, their posts, their habits, their levels of responsiveness. Once, your mother yelled, "Help! Help! Bloody murder!" for fifteen minutes before somebody finally came to Leonard Cohen-Krupnik's private office, knocked on the door to his bathroom, and found out that there was no toilet paper. Your mother didn't always take her mission very seriously, but, since Jesus possessed the blueprints to the building, it wasn't very difficult to weed out the inconsistencies.

– Verse 1133 from the chapter called Security

Back to Samples of Fiction: Table of Contents

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.

Maybe that's why the orderlies walk around here with such pained expressions. You'd think they'd be happy to watch rich men die. But I am being grossly unfair: it's probably just Monday morning - but I can't help noticing such things from my current situation; sitting next to Albert's deathbed, it does seem to be a rather expensive way of dying. I would much rather prefer to die in my own bed, in my own house, surrounded by my own children. Although I must admit, this is a rather nice room. However, I don't think Indiana likes coming here. I'm not sure whether it's because of Albert's condition or because of the surroundings, but she was very grateful when I said I could take the bulk of the vigil.

– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 3, Wondering, Paragraph 1, Clauses 6-13

As you can imagine, recent events have been so disruptive that I've put all my other work on hiatus. I now have the freedom to apply my industry to subjects more conducive to my environment. And if I can do nothing to cure Albert of his illness, I might as well try to cure somebody.

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

Poor Albert: I can only wonder what else he had to manage; I saw him deal with a lot, but I'm sure I didn't get to see half of it. I can almost understand now why he moved out for the last few days. But still, so many things I cannot understand, so many vivid memories being made even more vivid.

– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 3, Wondering, Paragraph 5, Clauses 6-9

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.

Tatum turned. The emergency door was a few meters away. She could hear the chamber repressurizing. She sprinted. The inner door opened. Tatum leapt. Plasma fired into her back. The shock pulsed throughout her suit. She fell to the ground.

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

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

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

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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

LUKE: At his place.

FLETCHER: Today?

FLETCHER: After Kokomo left.

FLETCHER: What was she doing there?

LUKE: The two of them were yabberin'. That's why we didn't get to drink much.

FLETCHER: What were they saying?

LUKE: I don't know.

FLETCHER: What did it look like?

LUKE: It looked like something shonky was goin' down. At first, Kokomo was ropeable. I thought old Grey Goose was gonna cark it. After she calmed down, she looked perfectly dismal, like she had been sprung in the act. Your old man leaned in to whisper. She kept turnin' her head to either side. She got cranky and left. That's when I asked him - by way of a mug: "What's with the girl piker?" - why didn't she stay for a drink? That's when he told me.

– ACT I, lines 757-765

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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.

Proctor found the key. He decided a man carrying a carpet was probable cause. He entered the apartment. It didn't take long to find a photo. It was vic number three. Proctor called in the cavalry. He ordered a search. His phone rang. It was the captain. "Vic number two's fingerprints were in the database," He said. "He got busted for cocaine three years prior. I talked to his bondsman. Says an artist by the name of John Gamble put up security for him." At the sound of the name Proctor audibly swallowed. He wondered if the captain had heard.

– from “We Need To Talk,” a mystery story featuring more than one dead body put in a weird position