Author's Note: I have been enjoined from sharing the details of my true romance adventure until such time that the other party is prepared to present her perspective on the affair arrangement...
My plane touched down in Poland on June 20th. A month later I was in Austria. Two days later, Slovenia. The next day, Croatia. A week later, Italy. The next day, Switzerland. The next day, France. The next day, Germany. The next day, Belgium. The next day, Holland. All with a woman I had met my first weekend on the Continent.
As an artist inspired by a young woman's struggle with self-esteem and bulimia, body acceptance had always featured prominently in my aesthetic. Having recently discovered naturism and its mantra of body acceptance in the United States, I was eager to explore the style and philosophy of naturist clubs and the beauty of naturist campsites in Europe. By a trick of fate, I found myself first in Bielsko-Biała, Poland. Margo's home.
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.
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: Fictional Characters
Each successive pillar of culture is built upon the previous one. Just as you cannot have Saturday without Friday, you cannot have a strong military without successful children. You can't have successful children without good science. Proper science requires a strong and confident body politic to accept its conclusions. A strong body politic, a peaceful assembly, is made up of strong families. A family is built upon labor. Labor is guided by art.
Good art is a good idea well expressed. A victory over oblivion. Carry that thought down the line. Efficient labor sows the fruit of capitalism. The members of a loving family pray to each other. A just constitution keeps the assembly focused. Science studies movement. Education inspires children. Children grow strong and defend our freedom. Democracy thrives.
Our problem is not that we lack a strong army or smart teachers or scientists or political dialogue or money or prayer. Our probem is that nothing ties it together. Our culture is unraveling. We have business executives who only care about the bottom line. We have church leaders who only care about the good name of the church. We have politicians who only care about getting re-elected. We have artists who only care about their self-expression.
Our pillars of culture have climbed quite high. Yet there's nothing but hot air at the top. There's no roof over our heads. We're exposed. Either nobody taught the people at the top to listen to each other or the only way to get to the top is by not listening. Don't say nobody taught us how. Whenever people try we crucify them. That has to change. We need to accept the fact that we are building this church of Man together and it needs a roof.
We need to bridge the pillars of culture.
Pronunciation of Fictional Characters
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the words "fictional characters."
Video of me pronouncing "fictional characters."
Definition of Fictional Characters
I have yet to publish the definition of Fictional Characters.
I'm sure it won't take too long.
References for fictional characters
I have yet to find good references for Fictional Characters
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 #55
jcpenney doesnt know what espn is all about. she is being difficult.
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.
When the press began to say that Jesus's Confederation was based on Cathedral Island, Jesus did nothing to dispute it. The error was built on already existing confusion; Jesus didn't need to add to it. Besides, anyone who cared knew that Jesus had blocked off Sand Island, not the territory around the Cathedral. Nevertheless, the error stood. Your father liked to indulge it. Using a sawed-off bed-knob as a mace, Jesus wielded it the way field commanders of the Old Republic had once deployed their troops: by swinging it forward, left and right, always with a firm flick of the wrist, like the parish priest or bishop who blesses his congregation with holy water. Jesus used it whenever his officers met with him to discuss further operations. Inside the sacristy of the Blessed Virgin Mary's church, they would come to look at their biggest map, which had all of their troop positions marked. They kept it locked in a cupboard with other sensitive information, and, when they met, Jesus used his mace to point things out; he would bang the table with it. Jesus's men soon began to call him 'Bishop.' Your father had chosen the mace for its ancient distinction (Jesus felt like the primeval warrior), but the truth was (as Jesus seemed to remember it from his father's books) that the mace had indeed been carried into battle by medieval bishops, who had been barred from the use of swords for some ecclesiastical reason. Anyway, the name was apt. Jesus became the Bishop of Cathedral Island, leader of Confederate troops fighting for truth. Your father embraced his new surname, particularly because it captured his spiritual leadership, which he consciously, though somewhat erratically, pursued. The word was ancient. Most importantly of all, it punctuated his separate identity, the superiority of his office, the remoteness of his character, and, most unnervingly of all, Jesus's growing detachment.
Standing outside in the alleyway, Jesus would stare at the sign on the opposite wall. It was disgusting: both alley and sign, but especially the sign, which dangled over its old, abandoned storefront like a dead monkey. One of its two chains had broken from its plastic D-ring and now the sign, suspended from only one of its steel chains, hung unevenly, twisting about in the strong, dusty wind. The sign, painted on wood, was left untouched presumably for its old-fashioned look, or else for its macabre character. It was a profile of a black dog with a long rat's tail: an old, emaciated bitch with three pendulous teats coming down from her meager gut. The vandals who had repeatedly done damage to the alleyway in the past had probably respected the powerful gruesomeness of the image. Perhaps the store had been some kind of curio shop or else some kind of witchcraft accessory store. That hungry bitch with a rat's tail had probably been somebody's favorite familiar, thought Jesus.
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.
We were standing in a nice corner. The walls around us were high and windowless. Concrete was crumbling and cracking itself. There was a lot of rusted metal. The ground was littered. "You know what I like about big cities? I like these kinds of places: the buttholes and the bellybuttons." There was even some neglected shrubbery around us. It was bordering the crumbling concrete steps upon which Luka was seated. I placed my foot beside his on the lowest one. I started balancing my leg. I thought of the stairs outside our old apartment. I thought of the opium dealer - as a character from a New Comedy, with Luka, the poor yeoman; Anicetus, the corrupted son of an equis; and me, Andreas: the lowly manservant, the torch-bearing slave.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 2, The Second Day, Part 1, Labor & Economic Reform, Section 14, Referencing the Past, Paragraph 16
ANDY: Yeah, I suppose - but it's not essential. I think I know enough general information. Besides, Mars will only be superficially similar to Iraq. I mean: they both have a lot of desert, right? And I'll be exploring other issues that have nothing to do with Iraq specifically: like technology and democracy, et cetera.
In their former state, my recent memories were indistinguishable from those of many years ago. But now, their form and shape has taken on so many abnormal characteristics: for instance, things are much larger now, as if they were blown up - and I can tell since the size of my consciousness has stayed the same.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 4, Self-image, Paragraph 1, Clauses 4-6
The face of the imagined person was always hidden, and, because I mostly have no idea what Nike's patrons look like, their physical characteristics would only change by type: all the young women that Nike knew, for example, would look the same: among their many attributes, they all had long blond hair, for instance - whereas all the middle-aged women would look like his aunt - which is to say, Indiana.
Weaving them all into long and masterfully composed narratives, Macy would begin with a deliberately subtle introduction: a thin smile and a whispering "Well, you know" exposition, which would lead to a mounting action, which, if successful, would culminate in a penetrating witticism: perhaps a skillful observation, one more or less encapsulating a common belief or sometimes a misconception, which would, if he were really on target, climax in a parody of character.
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.
"Exactly." Shephard gestured grandly. A square column stood in the middle of the intersection. Chairman Mao's portrait graced every side. White Han characters spelled out the first of many Mao quotations found in The Little Red Book. It was from his opening address to the first National People's Congress. It said, "The force at the core leading our cause forward is the Chinese Communist Party. The theoretical basis guiding our thinking is Marxism-Leninism." They were words the people here had to live by.
Tae fashioned posts to mark the edges of the realm. On each he carved two characters: a picture of a head poking through a robe, meaning "Bo," and a picture of another head over a foot in the crossroads, meaning "way."
Bo didn't like it. She thought it was overbearing. She told Tae to add the foot in the crossroads to the first character, making it mean "far." She told him the sign should read, "Farway."
Neither one would budge. His mother called the boy Lorenzo. Manfredo called him Lothario. Ferrari himself had been named after a character in Boccaccio's Il Decamerone, though his father had probably never read anything by Boccaccio, or by anyone at all for that matter. He had heard it from an erudite and completely accidental drinking partner. His usual associates were not the literary type.
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.
FLETCHER: I'm glad you liked it.
LESBIAN: We happened to see your father looking down on us the whole time from a cliff.
FLETCHER: What do you mean?
LESBIAN: He was staring at us the entire morning from a cliff. I thought he was going to jump.
FLETCHER: He was just standing there?
LESBIAN: He was just standing there.
LUKE: I went up to him. He was only watching us bathe.
ALICE: I hope he liked it.
FLETCHER: Don't mind him. My father's a bit crazy. One time, I woke up in the middle of the night. It was about three in the morning. I saw him standing in front of a pine tree, trying to decide whether or not he should chop it down. This was three in the morning. There was absolutely no reason for him to chop it down. It was really quite bizarre.
– ACT I, lines 55-63
FLETCHER: You assume I lied about that.
MS. JACKSON: I've never heard you accused of anything.
FLETCHER: No one's ever gossiped to you about me or what I do or whom I see?
MS. JACKSON: Why are you being so contrary?
FLETCHER: I'm just surprised you didn't hear anything about me and Mrs. Menzies making out behind St. Barnabas. I guess the McCoy brothers kept their end of the bargain. They extorted five hundred and fifty-two dollars from me in exchange for promising to keep quiet. Cash, by the way, is very hard to come by on this island. What could I do? I couldn't have the usual gossip substantiated by solid testimony from a pair of young, sweet, innocent-looking boys, could I?
A story book full of short fiction stories. An interesting bedtime mystery. A fairy tale. Science fiction romance. Adult life. Uninspiring gay fiction. Horror.
The wedding went forward. Steve O gave no objections. He drank at the reception. He danced. He saluted the happy couple. He boarded the plane for New York a changed man. He had learned a lesson. He had edified himself. He had strengthened his character. He was happy. Confident. Full of new-found respect and ready once again to womanize.
At some tender age Steve O had happened upon a backstage drama on TV. This was followed by a backstage musical. Then a backstage comedy. In each instance there was a character of an actor played by an attractive actor who despite having duties ostensibly onstage was preoccupied to the almost complete exclusion of everything else with an actress played by an attractive actress. This was Steve O's cue.
St. Sebastian was a member of the Roman Emperor's praetorian guard who had the audacity to teach Christian values while on the job. I think active duty American military men and women who don't vote or who don't publicly express a political opinion because of the uniform are either being idiotic or are being cowed by the threat of punishment from a superior. Either way, they're eunuchs. My purpose in creating the St. Sebastian Series is to put the flesh and face of the true soldier front and center. The good soldier puts his mission ahead of himself. He often ends up dead. The true soldier knows a bad mission when he sees one and he isn't afraid to say it. Saint Sebastian was not a cow, despite what clever people would have you believe. Saint Sebastian is a patron saint for all protestors who face the arrows of the mob for speaking out.
Your purchases keep the "Fictional Characters" page alive...
If you love women and art...
Michal is importing Polish art...is he certifiable?
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.
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