Michal won't stop making films for women... Is he doomed to fail?
Posted:
When I first walked into the Vagina Cafe, I was pleased that somebody had taken the time and the risk to put the principle of female empowerment ahead of everything else. I want to honor that. I want to support it and to help it spread by helping others learn how to listen.
By getting past my preconceptions, and actually listening to women, I've become a better judge and a more helpful person. I want to give others a chance to do the same.
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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Janina: An Oral History of the Twentieth Century in Southern Poland
Chapter 35: Marlboro Cigarettes
Janina recalls her bold attempts to sell cigarettes while in Vienna and the large fruit she found there that reminded her of her home in Trembowla and her naughtiness as a young girl.
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...
On Monday, I arrived in Europe. By Wednesday I had bought a car. By Friday I had met the woman who a few months later would end up having travelling 6,000 miles across Europe with me.
Though as an artist I had been working on body acceptance since the start of my career, and as a one-time practicing figure model was used to being nude in a social setting, I had been left largely unexposed to the community of naturists and nudists working towards the same goal of promoting the human being. Visiting nude beaches and resorts along the East Coast and participating in events organized around New York by Young Naturists America, I was left hungry for more and had come to Europe to see things from their side of the pond. Margo was my introduction.
As an American, I was full of optimism and confidence bordering on recklessness. I was ready to run the wheels off the car I had just bought and eventually I would. As a European, she was cautious and mistrustful. She needed to make sure the air conditioner worked. Which it did. If you knew how to turn the broken knob in just the right way.
Do unto others as you would have done unto you. But how to judge what we would want done to us if we've never been in somebody else's shoes? If we've never been abandoned by our mother, how do we treat somebody who has? Somebody who seems to constantly suffer the repurcussions of it? Margo and I had 46 days and 6,000 miles to try on each other's shoes. We had one car and one tent in which to hear each other's words. We learned to cooperate. We started learning how to listen.
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: Adventure Stories
I fondly remember the Scholastic Book Club catalogs I got in elementary school when I was a kid. I was always looking forward to getting them. It was fun to read all the descriptions and figure out what types of literature interested me the most, although it was particularly upsetting if a world literature anthology I liked was too expensive to even think about buying. I had to make informed decisions. Otherwise it meant a trip to the library and the hope that somebody else wouldn't have checked out any of my books-to-read.
There was one book that was always at the library but that I never had the courage to check out. It wasn't science fiction. It was a book about sex. I was afraid to hold it. Opening it made my heart race. I was afraid to be seen standing in the aisle. I had to switch aisles. I was a long way from the children's section but this was the one place in my world where I could see what a naked girl my age looked like. In the photograph she was standing in a line of girls and women, each progressively taller, older, rounder, fuller. If I had been able to at the time, I would've given this book a nobel prize just for this photograph. I wanted to know what girls were hiding and this was the one book that had the courage to show me the truth. Just having the chance to see the truth was satisfying, not to mention the fact that I was fascinated by the changes represented in those bodies. That I had to hide myself in a corner of a public library in Lincoln, Nebraska in order to see this truth opened up many questions for me.
The last time I was in a library I saw a grown man sitting in front of a computer unashamedly clicking through pictures of large breasts in bikinis on Facebook. If this man were able to do it, I'm sure he would give Facebook a nobel prize for providing this type of literature. He and I are products of a culture that fetishizes the human body. All primitive cultures fetishize something. They give it a specific charge, either positive or negative. It's the "why" that drives a community. Cowboys drive a herd of cattle by negatively fetishizing the land on either side. Men are driven the same way. For us to build a truly free society, one marked not just by sophisticated technology but also by a sophisticated culture, we will have to destroy the fetishes that drive us.
It doesn't matter what types of literature you like. Whether you like reading science-fiction or sampling world literature of an adult nature, just keep in mind that your choice is a little nobel prize of its own. Your choice dictates what kind of writing takes place. If you want humanity to live like cattle, do nothing. If you want to be a cowboy like me, see the fetish for what it is. Destroy its power.
Pronunciation of Adventure Stories
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the words "adventure stories."
Video of me pronouncing "adventure stories."
Definition of Adventure Stories
I have yet to publish the definition of Adventure Stories.
I'm sure it won't take too long.
References for adventure stories
I have yet to find good references for Adventure Stories
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 #5291
i wish i had a toothbrush. im also getting low on toilet paper. i think its time somebody came to pick me up. ive had enough adventure.
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.
It was a mixture of jealousy and admiration that brought the boys into his gang, which was the most occasional of institutions: membership was never guaranteed; it was based on personal interest, and, perhaps, performance in Jesus's last group adventure - because Jesus didn't need a pack: he was the Lonely Planet, as the girls called him, and all the other boys were nothing next to his greatness - but sometimes, he would invite them along: what a great privilege it was! He would let them come into his lair and smoke his stolen tobacco - stolen from the old lady's attic, in case they didn't know, in the last group adventure. Jesus had his regulars, of course, but, more often than not, they were on their own - and, without him, they were leaderless: they were like a pirate crew without their captain, weak and ineffective.
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.
Strolling through the empty hall, I laughed at the mess of teasers on the floor and all around - various clubs advertising their many-storied attractions, bars with Wednesday drink specials, free coke with pizza. There was another kind of mess in Luke's apartment - the absolutely filthy kind. Modesty forbids me from describing it; I was compelled at the very least to throw the trash away and gather up the various personal effects.
Of course, my family disapproved of everything, even though my cousin succeeded so fabulously in making a fool of himself. He was too desperate for something beautiful, which she was, indeed; but our Stefan was not the first to notice, and he didn't know that she already had two children. It's an old story, Macy, but, unfortunately, the romantic versions are dead; they are buried in mounds of literature. Damsels are still in distress, but they are more often subject to their own greed than to the greed of their fathers. True love has lost its footing; it no longer waits by the windowsill: the tower has fallen down."
In reaching their conclusion they have given full deference to their egoism, and history must yield to a more fully developed understanding of the invidious quality of their absurdity - because I do not know how they can identify the privileges bestowed by the State on participants in a civic institution (marriage) as concrete reasons for that participation to be acknowledged as a civil right.
Like streams of consciousness converging, former thoughts and current questions began flooding my mind. My heart was in danger. I took a deep breath and I held it in my chest, as if to reinforce the floodgates cradling my heart. I had to protect her from being overwhelmed by my sick and moiling stomach, or the storm clouds of my mind. I began a deep and steady breathing, calmly pumping away the feeling with my diaphragm, blowing out my nose, trying to dissipate my thoughts. But my thoughts - even without the weight of feeling welling up against me, pressuring my soul, churning my stomach - these thoughts were not dissolvable. They would not go away, and how could I let them infuse my heart? that fountain of dangerous feeling? that chemical dynamo that would send them shooting to my throat - give them voice! - no! that would send them bursting through my mouth in sentences of self-destructing rancor - an explosive solution, one which I would not allow to break my stony face.
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.
A breeze puffed the woman's veil. An under-veil of white peeked out. The crown held them in place. The creases of a carefully wrapped linen wimple budged. The woman imperceptibly cocked her head. Imperceptibly, she squinted. She started holding her arms back as if preparing to run. My eyes fell to her pleated guimpe. It hung from her shoulders broad, firm, clear-finished-a serge from the fiber of a noble sheep. The chevron weave pointed down.
"I heard from somebody who talked to somebody who knew somebody who used to work here that most of their patrons aren't gay. What do you think of that?"
"I think it's stupid. Why would it be true?"
"Maybe homosexuals think transvestites are queer or something."
"If you want one of these people, why wouldn't you be gay for wanting them?"
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: I will go insane if I don't find out.
GREY GOOSE: It's all very simple. These two have been running a racket: a confidence game. Kokomo plays the prostitute, whose story is so ridiculous it must be true. Finding out for oneself is the challenge. If she's the best lay in the South Pacific, one should know the difference.
FLETCHER: Satisfaction guaranteed.
GREY GOOSE: Cash comes rolling in.
MS. JACKSON: I don't understand. What happens when-
FLETCHER: By the time they get to bed, they think she's a charity case.
GREY GOOSE: She vomits on them and that's it.
MS. JACKSON: Vomits?
FLETCHER: It turns me off.
MS. JACKSON: How?
– ACT II, lines 431-440
LUKE: What's the difference between the two?
MS. JACKSON: Bounty families are descendant from the original Bounty mutineers, who settled on Pitcairn Island-
FLETCHER: With their Tahitian consorts. I'm sorry. I meant their Tahitian wives. And their Tahitian slaves. I mean, their male Tahitian friends.
MS. JACKSON: The Pitcairner families are descendant-
FLETCHER: From three adventurers - to be more precise, from two ack-willy whalers and a soldier-of-fortune.
LUKE: That's a ridgy-didge pedigree. Too right!
FLETCHER: It gets better. Being a direct descendant of my namesake, Fletcher Christian, the illustrious chief of the mutiny on the Bounty, I am therefore descendant from the ancient rulers of the Isle of Man.
LUKE: A reg'lar Pommy!
FLETCHER: My father's mother was a Quintal. That means half of him is descendant from a drunken scoundrel who set his ship on fire, drove his wife to suicide, and threatened to kill the entire island population. That's not the side of the story we like to tell. We prefer the story of how John Jackson turned to Christianity and taught his children to read and write. Jackson, I'll have you know, was a Christian before he became a Jackson. He changed his name the moment the British rediscovered the island. My mother admires his cowardice so much, she did the same thing.
– ACT I, lines 93-101
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
FLETCHER: There was a girl who tried to kill me. She came after me with an axe. It reminded me of Susannah's story.
ALICE: What made you want to write a play about it?
FLETCHER: Mull.
ALICE: I'm sorry?
FLETCHER: Isn't that what you Australians like to call it?
ALICE: I guess.
FLETCHER: It's the modern artist's drug of choice.
ALICE: Even here on Norfolk?
FLETCHER: There was a time when every other artistically-inclined tourist I met asked me about it.
ALICE: Whether you had any?
– ACT II, lines 101-110
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.
A story book full of short fiction stories. An interesting bedtime mystery. A fairy tale. Science fiction romance. Adult life. Uninspiring gay fiction. Horror.
On the fourth day I read aloud again from Dostoyevsky's The Idiot. I was practicing my diction. After I got tired of reading I started thinking aloud. I was discussing with myself the imagery in the story. Relating it to my own situation. After amusing myself in this way I decided I was being silly. I sat in silence again. I thought about Barack and his twitching and the general ignorance of people.
I've never raped a woman. I would never want to. Not sexually. I told my wife once I wanted to rape her. That comment needs to be taken in context. We were at an art gallery. We were looking at a picture of the Sabine women.
I hate the English language. It's too curt. Rape. Suck. Lick. Bitch. Fuck. You. If the words had more syllables they wouldn't be so forceful. Deflowerment. Inhalation. Female Dog. Copulating. Those words don't inflame people's passions.
It's natural to hide dirty things. They're embarrassing. But we need to keep in mind that when we hide things that are difficult, we make them seem dirty when they're really something else entirely. And when we keep things that are easy in plain sight, we make them seem clean when they really aren't. That is dangerous.
Help support the "Adventure Stories" page...
If you love women and art...
Michal's importing art from Poland...is he meshuga?
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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