Michal makes films to help women... Does he think they need him?

Posted:⚒ 30༚♐²⁶/₂₄♀

I greatly enjoy the company of women. I enjoy the company of men in slighly different ways. I never considered myself a pervert. When I consider the popularity of violent and humiliating images of women, I start to wonder. Maybe I'm strange for not enjoying them. Maybe I'm the one whose not normal. In which case, I have to do something to change those norms.

I'm learning how to listen to women - even if they sometimes say horrible things. I want everyone to have the same opportunity.

I've decided to export fine art handcrafted by women in Poland to America. High quality handcrafted art produced by high quality women deserves to be shared. The more I can sell stateside to people who know the difference, the more I can buy from those whose worthy hands to continue the fight for openness and equality, a fight that I've taken to the world wide web.

Your support ensures that films for women will make a difference.

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Nie lubię jeść sam
Or, What Happened on 34th Street
The proprietor of the Vagina Cafe visits New York and decides to eat a meal on a bench across the street from Macy's, claiming later that she doesn't like to eat alone.

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Nie lubię jeść sam
Or, What Happened on 34th Street
The proprietor of the Vagina Cafe visits New York and decides to eat a meal on a bench across the street from Macy's, claiming later that she doesn't like to eat alone.

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 #93

yo - if anyone has a problem with the new espn system let me know. im great with short massaging.

Justin Bieber

26 July, 4:10 PM

Frame #7174

lowes's calling our spyhunt .operation identification. its a mouthful. i prefer .operation find.the.bastards. or just bastard for short.

Sprint "Iphone" Case

24 December, 12:49 AM

Frame #4259

im on the other side of the gallery. theres a short flight of stairs wrapping around the corner. a guard is patrolling the hallway up top.

Sprint "Iphone" Case

30 September, 2:37 AM

Frame #659

harley did drop a hint. i wonder if she meant to. she said she wants a job at the hawaiian gardens casino. shes looking for a shorter commute.

Justin Bieber

2 August, 7:41 PM

Frame #2768

okay. im in norco. thats short for north corona. as in about 20 miles away from where i started. im not even a quarter of the way there.

Twitter Hashtag

26 August, 11:41 AM

Back to Samples of Fiction: Table of Contents

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.

Jesus's mother was so mad. She found him sitting on her father's front porch, which was narrow, slightly wider than the door itself, and covered on either side. Two short benches on either side faced each other. Jesus was sitting on one of them. He wasn't hiding; he had sat there on purpose so his mother would find him there suddenly and be compelled to sit down in front of him, rather than shout at him from a distance. He wanted her first question to be: "Why did you lock us inside?" It was perfect: just as he planned. In as few words as possible, Jesus explained the injustice done to him by the girl's father and the insult of second prize. Jesus's mother weakened: with less anger, she explained how poor his family was, how they spent everything on keeping him in the United States, and how they couldn't spend money on stupid prizes. The pencil sharpener, whether he liked it or not, was his prize no matter what: even if he had won the race, he still would've gotten it. Now Jesus was mad both for losing the race and for being poor. He was sentenced to his room till evening.

– Verse 152 from the chapter called Childhood

Meanwhile, the Martian Governor-general was facing deep-seeded unrest. Constant and often violent opposition was coming from every single direction. Autocracy and corruption had so destroyed the Martian economy that massive inflation, shortages, and worst of all, separatism plagued Centropolis. Rich Martians blamed the Governor for doing nothing. Therefore, while the United Nations were busy with Sadatmo, the Governor-general's personal security service entered the historically-restive region of Elysium and forcibly evicted both protestors agitating for separation and the loyalist reformers who were willing to cooperate with Centropolis from the government offices that they had occupied. There was significant bloodshed.

– Verse 128 from the chapter called Childhood

With quickened pace, I went south by southwest. I stumbled onto a beautiful thing: a boletus with a brown cap, brown and white striations along its entire length, a fairly long stem with a short and stubby chunk at the bottom. It was tender - seemingly tough but delicate, seemingly rough but soft. Nicknamed 'Cossack,' like the free men who dwelt in the East, like the peasants who escaped from serfdom, she was endangered: she was covered by a hideous fly agaric. The beast had grown up right next to her, casting his cold, inescapable shadow on top of that lonely Cossack with his bright red-orange poisonous cap. I went to take her away, but I was careless: I ripped her cap. Lifting her up, I carefully cleaned her foot. Putting her into my bag, I let the fly agaric live. Blessed was he for sheltering my Cossack. Looking up, in the distance, I saw the wretched beast's accursed father: the largest fly agaric I had ever seen. He was seated on a hill, enormous and disgustingly proud. I threw a rock and crushed it.

– Verse 15 from the chapter called Bohemia

She was there. Standing in the field, she was wearing a short jacket, a skirt extending below the knee and trousers. She was standing next to her monkey. She was short and extremely isolated. She was absurd and pitiable. She was beautiful. I was overjoyed. I didn't show it. I hardly felt it. I knew it was there, but the feeling was blanketed with an iron will. My happiness was unimportant.

– Verse 533 from the chapter called Bohemia

"Look at me," she whined. "I'm the most misproportioned woman on the planet. I've got huge Martian feet; short, stubby Japanese legs; a gigantic forehead; no chin."

– Verse 794 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 Luka's beard is interesting by itself, and for a very specific reason: it reminds me of the man who sold opium to me and Nike when we were sophomores. He, too, was short and portly, with dark curly hair - even a similar complexion: because Luke, as you know, is relatively light-skinned, but Luka is just a bit darker - and so was the man who sold to us. Wearing his beard, Luka looks just like that man. Otherwise, there would be no connection: the beard is what makes them similar - their faces have nothing in common. Isn't that strange of me? Their beards have nothing in common either: there's nothing distinctive about them - not color, texture, trimming - nothing: they are absolutely run-of-the-mill ordinary. So why do they stand out?

– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 2, The Second Day, Part 1, Labor & Economic Reform, Section 5, A Man's Features, Paragraph 4

For a moment, I wondered why. Maybe I thought they were applauding my courage. But then, instinct was more powerful, and I was the first to rip my hand away and start clapping. I was looking out the corner of my eye. It took Indiana quite a long time to start clapping. I took note of that. But immediately after the applause, without looking directly at Indiana (throwing my head in her direction but stopping short, looking obliquely, at the back of someone's chair in the preceding row), I quietly excused myself and ran to the restroom - for no purpose: I didn't have to do anything. So I got a drink of water instead.

– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 13, Apprehension, Paragraph 7

LUKA: How old is your sister?

ANDY: She's my age; we're twins.

LUKA: Oh, really? What is that like?

ANDY: It's fine.

LUKA: I know, but -

ANDY: It's fascinating.

LUKA: What's her name?

NIKE: Her name's Jo.

LUKA: Jo?

ANDY: Yeah, it's short for A. Jo Ann.

– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 2, The Second Day, Part 1, Labor & Economic Reform, Section 8, Affording Private Health Care, Paragraphs 79-88

"Keep your eyes open, Luka - and look for that woman! I have to find her no matter what it takes." Nike took a long, deep drag. His lungs held it for a while, for a very good, long while. "Marc. Oh, man. Luka: please park in a good place," Nike said, exhaling. "We have to find her." But Luka said nothing. Rothko was now smoking, so Nike looked out the window at the freak show. How disgusting, he thought. And then he took another drag of opium: a short one. Then Rothko had one more drag, and they were done, the rest being left for Luka, the unfortunate chauffeur. His passengers were already relaxing, but he was still looking for a good place to park, and finally, stopping in a good spot, he turned around and took the pipe.

– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 2, The Second Day, Part 1, Labor & Economic Reform, Section 23, The Effects of Poverty, Paragraph 5

I was too exhausted to be angry; but Barbara's relief was short-lived: pretty soon she was completely unhinged, bawling like a child with a broken home. I told her she had gotten more money than anyone else, but this only made her cry more. She was very sorry that she had dragged me down all the way from Jersey just for this to happen.

– Title 2, Regarding the Romaniac, Part 1, Section 7, Dating a Woman with Dogs, Paragraph 11, Clauses 1-3

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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.

The headlights dimmed. Were they paying her homage? Were they apologizing for blinding her? The engine stalled. The car came to a creaking halt. Nike whispered to himself, "Now, now, Luka. Let's not be so obvious."

– from “Paris Is For Rapists, Too,” a ghost story featuring a frank discussion of the beautiful people of France

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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.

ALICE: Did somebody die?

FLETCHER: Don't ask.

ALICE: Yes.

FLETCHER: Even if your husband had died?

ALICE: It would.

FLETCHER: I've been wanting to confess this for so long. The island makes it hard. Who would have understood me if I had spoken? My mother? I pay my penance every time I hear her cry. She has no idea what part I played in that fire. I can't help feeling that, if I had stopped it, this family would never have had the problems it's had. Nobody died in that fire except for me. It was my own soul burning. As far as the house is concerned, restitution's been made. As for me, who would not find my weakness and ignore it? for the sake of convenience if not for shame. Who would restore my strength from the ashes?

ALICE: Let it be me. I will restore you.

FLETCHER: This is why I've been pursuing you. I knew you'd never give in to me. I saw your strength the moment you arrived: its grace: its beauty. I fell in love with it. I desired it - not for myself, but for its ability to release me from this guilt.

ALICE: Let me release you, Fletcher Christian. I will make you whole again.

FLETCHER: You will forgive me my crime?

– ACT II, lines 184-193

FLETCHER: That's a good story.

MS. JACKSON: From what could be gathered.

LESBIAN: I was taken advantage of once. I was at the Kammermusiksaal one day - actually, it was the night: the evening. It was fall: late fall: October. I had just attended a concert - a very good one - chamber music: it's my favorite. Anyway, this was Berlin and everything is very neat there - at least in that part of the city: the cultural part with the museums and everything. I didn't think it dangerous just to cross the street: Tiergartenstraße - to take a stroll in the park - Tiergartenpark. It's not like it was that late or anything. It was October. Naturally, the days were short.

FLETCHER: And the nights were very long-winded.

MS. JACKSON: Fletcher!

LESBIAN: I'm sorry. I don't think it's going to be very good.

MS. JACKSON: Please continue, Homo.

LESBIAN: This man came up to me in an overcoat and exposed himself. Can you believe that?

FLETCHER: Nice.

ALICE: How big was it?

– ACT I, lines 180-189

GREY GOOSE: Open your eyes. Do you know what I was trying to do here? Look at this place. It's a god-damn mess.

FLETCHER: You were only trying to help.

GREY GOOSE: I wasn't. I was trying to please Kokomo. That dishwasher wasn't a gift for your mother. It was a gift for her.

FLETCHER: Don't expect me to believe Mother's story that all this time you've been chasing after the cook.

GREY GOOSE: Things changed the moment your mother convinced herself that she's falling in love with that Kiwi.

FLETCHER: Lesbian is not going to stay here. I doubt Mother would just pack up and leave. All we have to do is be patient. We have to ride this thing out without losing our heads and without letting anybody catch the two of them going at it - whatever the hell it is they do together, which can't be much. They probably just kiss and talk about running off to get married in Spain. Regardless, we can't afford to take any chances - not with our reputation as low as it is.

GREY GOOSE: I argued with her today - not because it was necessary - because I desired it. I shouted what I should never murmur without her permission.

FLETCHER: What are you talking about?

GREY GOOSE: I called her a whore - not because I was roping Luke -because she turned me on. It made me angry to feel so helpless. I argued with Kokomo so that I could be close to her: so that I could breathe in her scent. That's all this stupid dishwasher business was about. Did I say it was a gift? It wasn't a gift. It was a ploy.

FLETCHER: Stay away from her.

– ACT I, lines 1237-1246

FLETCHER: Good. My mother's been trying to stop her. I don't blame her for that. I feel sorry for the poor girl. Her story is a sad one. Kokomo's grandmother was raped by the Japanese while they were occupying the island of Upolu in Western Samoa. That's where Kokomo was born. Her mother was the product of that horrendous crime. Though they were the victims, both mother and child were ostracized by their tribe. Even after her mother had grown up, only the Catholic priest would take pity on them. Kokomo was the product of that pity. Eventually, she went to American Samoa to work as a prostitute for the tuna canners. One day, she came home with fifty thousand dollars and a baby. It turned out her pimp had threatened to kill her if she didn't have an abortion. Unfortunately, Kokomo made the ill-advised decision, once the baby came, to run away with the pimp's money. He ended up tracking her down. When he showed up at the mother's hut, Kokomo, in a state of pure shock, burned the money. The guy flipped out, killed her mother, slit the baby's throat, burned down the hut and forced her onto his boat. On their way to Pago Pago, they were hijacked by a bunch of pirates from Fiji. They killed the pimp and then realized he didn't have anything worthwhile except for the girl. While they stood around, trying to decide what to do, Kokomo offered them the greatest sex they would ever have in their entire lives: on the condition that they release her. They figured: why not? They could do whatever they wanted with her no matter what happened. Kokomo blew their minds. They were so satisfied, they stuck to the deal. They let her go in Fiji, where they begged her to stay and work as a prostitute. Kokomo agreed to do it, but only until she made up the fifty thousand dollars that she burned: the money that killed her mother and her newborn baby.

– ACT I, line 770

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

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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.

The third day at the school I heard somebody approaching the door. I expected a student or somebody but nobody went inside. There was only the sound of gently crushing grass. I thought it might be a cat. When I looked outside I saw it was an old man. He was walking along the side of the schoolhouse. He ignored my greeting and avoided my eyes. I went back inside. I heard the old man circling around. I decided to start reading aloud from Tolstoi. The man shuffled off.

– from “A Black Man in Moscow,” an inspirational story that describes reality as we have inherited it no matter who you are