Michal's HeadlinesHalloween Stories

Michal presents 4Occupy, an online art gallery and culture blog

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The answer to your needs...

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A miniature portrait of MichalMichal Recommends:

Fairleigh-Dickinson

Independent University in New Jersey

From the FDU website
A map showing FDU's campuses in New Jersey, Canada & England
FDU has campuses in NJ, England & Canada
Margo behind a tree

Halloween Stories, a cultural reference

Understanding the world from all angles...

Michal makes movies for women... Did he get permission? Filmy dla Kobiet poster

A businessman prides himself on being able to move something from one point to another in the fastest and most economical way possible. It doesn't necessarily pay to look pretty doing it. An artist's function is to express a beautiful idea. It doesn't come fast or cheap. Its value lies in its completeness. It takes time and sacrifice. It must be considered. I consider a woman to be a beautiful idea. That's why I keep teaching myself to listen to women, no matter what the cost.Pointer

Having gotten myself to start listening to women, and having gained immense benefit from it, I want to give others a chance to benefit the same way.

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.

If the clip has trouble playing please try a version with a lower resolution.

Janina: An Oral History of the Twentieth Century in Southern PolandPointer

Chapter 21: Exile

Janina recounts the circumstances under which her father moved his family west once it was clear that Trembowla and the surrounding territory would be annexed by Soviet Ukraine.

Help End Child Sexual Abuse With ArtOne of Margo's pictures from our trip across Europe.

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...Pointer

On the second to last weekend of June, 2011, I had joined my fellow naturists at a gathering of the Naturist Society in rural Pennsylvania. The next day I left on a flight for Europe. By the end of the week I had unexpectedly met another naturist, a woman, who was destined to accompany me on a tour of Europe's great naturist resorts.

I had come to Europe to experience European naturism, a movement whose philosophy matched my aesthetic of body acceptance and whose organizational structure and leadership I had thought almost exclusively restricted to the western half of the continent. I was shocked to learn that naturism had an official home in Poland, a country not especially known for its liberal culture. I was less shocked to discover that the home was owned by a Dutchman, but even more shocked to learn that it had been largely built by Margo.

I had grown up in America. Land of opportunity. I came of age in the booming 90s when everything was possible. She had grown up in Poland. She had come of age at a time when the Soviets were making sure that there wasn't even anything to eat in the country. I couldn't even properly translate the word "opportunity" into Polish.

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.

One of Margo's pictures from our trip across Europe.

6,000 miles across Europe with a complete stranger

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Day 16
8/4/2011
 15༛25/24

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Camping Club Léman

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Préverenges, Switzerland

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THE DISAPPEARING WOMAN, THE DISAPPEARING MAN...Pointer

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.

Michal's Dictionary:
Halloween 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 Halloween StoriesMargo on a trampoline

I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the words "halloween stories."

Video of me pronouncing "halloween stories."

Definition of Halloween StoriesMargo on a trampoline

I have yet to publish the definition of Halloween Stories.

I'm sure it won't take too long.

References for halloween storiesMargo on a trampoline

  • I have yet to find good references for Halloween Stories

     

Samples of Fiction from Michal's CorpusMargo on a trampoline

An image of young Michal sitting on a potty in front of a typewriter

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.

Bare Bottom ImprintBack 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 #2012

kohls pulled into the parking lot of a carpet store. the sign says closed but he went inside. theres a bunch of guys in there.

Sprint "Iphone" Case

17 August, 3:06 PM

Frame #673

i followed jayce to an electronics store. it looks like shes shopping. either that or goldman sachs got a job in sales.

Chase Credit

3 August, 9:38 AM

Frame #1500

pandora says she saw paypal. by the fireplace at storytime. picking up a man who was listening in. pandora thought perv so she paid attention.

Sprint "Iphone" Case

12 August, 8:19 PM

Frame #4588

according to the official story mcdonalds stabbed his guards and blew up a fuel tank. sounds scripted. like a big budget yahoo epic.

Sprint "Iphone" Case

5 October, 1:21 PM

Frame #3656

were on our way. jayce's looking for a hardware store. i need a drill with a grindstone.

Chase Credit

10 September, 4:42 PM

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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.

You don't understand - but you will understand, my child. Your father is far away, but he is close. He is with your mother in space. They are far away. They orbit the sun around Pluto. Their bodies are machines that never break. Their bodies are machines! Their heads have been transplanted! But their thoughts are with you: they are with you. They love you. God loves you. Zeus does not. He is terrible. Do not trust him. He took your mother's head. He destroyed your father's body! AAAAAAHHHH!!! Sometimes my mind spits bile: pure vomit. It feels like

Verse 8 from the chapter called Invocation

None of this mattered on Mars. There, on that planet, where anti-trust laws had absolutely no jurisdiction, Cheap Alaskan Air bottles were produced and sold as usual - with face masks - right until the Revolution.

Verse 80 from the chapter called Childhood

Oh, I'm tired. FUCK. When I'm tired, my voices come back. FUCK CHILD. Don't listen to them. They are stupid. They are vanity. They are meant to be ignored. I write them down only in the hopes that they will go away. If I share them, they will lose their power. They are meaningless, but I obsess: they bother me. And when they bother me, they win. I can't let them win. They are voices; they are meaningless. They are not me. My mind is sick. My mind says those things. I am not my mind. I am me. I don't say those things. My mind says them. It repeats them. No: I repeat them. No! My mind repeats them. My mind says what it wants to say. It has its own life. It has its own power. It controls me. Stop controlling me! I don't want to be obsessive.

Verse 6 from the chapter called Invocation

Twenty years! How quickly they have passed! I thought your grandfather would die before me. I thought I might have a chance to do something. But whom am I kidding? His generals would've killed me as soon as your grandfather were dead. I am hated. I am the most hated man on Mars. I am the Lonely Planet. I killed your father! I killed your mother and Your brother!

Verse 16 from the chapter called Invocation

Blaming America was difficult. For the simple-minded, it was easy, but most people were conflicted. America was a beautiful country; it had suffered much, but who hadn't? Besides, Americans were in space, in stations orbiting around the Earth; America was on the moon, racing China for the best pieces of real estate. Even though half their country was gone, they were still on top! They were in orbit around the Earth! American soil filled the stratosphere, casting its shadow across the globe: and they were above it! They couldn't care less. To them, the damage was done. Yellowstone exploded - thank you very much, now go and help yourself.

Verse 82 from the chapter called Childhood

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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.

NIKE: I'm workin' on it. This is definitely a two-pronged attack. The Internet is one market. But clubs and bars are another - not to mention stores and restaurants, of course. But all of them will have the choice to create their own meads: that's the beauty of it. And they can commission whatever kind of mead they want: I'll design it for them. It'll fit whatever theme they've got going - and: it'll taste good too.

– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 2, The Second Day, Part 1, Labor & Economic Reform, Section 15, Dealing with Grand Schemes, Paragraph 16

How could I see through that distorting steam that which I have since admitted with clarity of hindsight? I feared him.

– Title 1, Regarding Peaches and Bananas, Part 2, Section 2, Letting It Steam, Paragraph 4, Clauses 4-5

The Travelers' Club was hosting a lecture on William Hogarth that afternoon, and Christie, having limited interest in the history of English painting (having had to suffer it as a young girl for many years on account of her dear father's personal interest in both museums and his daughter's education) was inclined to thank the distinguished gentleman and sudden acquaintance, who had seen her work on the stage, and who had only good things to say about her performance, and who, inviting the gracious Christie to the Travelers' Club, had made a very distinctive impression on the young girl, who saw in him, in his manners and his maturity, and in the interest he took in Hogarth's paintings, the most chilling representation of her father she had ever seen, which made her blush politely, insisting that under no circumstances would she be able to excuse herself from a prior commitment, and that, however exciting such a lecture might be, she would have to wait, regrettably, for the next one.

– Title 2, Regarding the Romaniac, Part 1, Section 12, Private Clubs, Paragraph 3, Clause 1

I was aware of this development; I was aware that it marked a new stage in our relationship. But I didn't know what it meant, or where it was going. So I felt oddly unaccustomed. The piano looked different to me. I had a new relationship to it. I began wandering around the drawing room as if it were completely new to me, as if I were surveying the premises, looking for distinctive signs, drawing conclusions about status or history.

– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 6, The Drawing Room, Paragraph 1, Clauses 10-16

Meanwhile, I began fiddling with the radio. But Indiana was right: there was no reception. Unless I stood exactly five feet away to the northeast, which caused a sort of rhythmic droning, there was nothing but pure static across the band. So I had to paint in silence until Indiana's return. It was nerve-racking. But when she came back, she brought with her two CDs, and this explanation: "You know what? The music store was closed: the man who works there was out to lunch. Can you believe that? Good thing we are moving to London. But: I went to the consignment shop, and they have a lot of old CDs there. So I found you two CDs that are not opera, but very close. This one is by the Vienna State Opera Orchestra, and they are playing 'National Anthems of the World,' and this one is by nobody I know, but it's called 'Soap Opera's Favorite Wedding Music.' So there you go."

– Title 2, Regarding the Romaniac, Part 1, Section 32, Femme Fatale, Paragraph 49

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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 passenger turned. I recognized him. It was my friend, Nike. He stared at me with wide eyes. It was a challenge. I sank into my seat. The eyes stayed fixed above, as if I had only been blocking their view. The driver turned. It was the man Nike introduced to me as Luka, the Romanian who married his cousin. They stared for a moment. Together, they faced forward.

"Last time I was here," said Nike, "the road was empty. The Reine was on her last legs."

– from “Paris Is For Rapists, Too,” a ghost story featuring a drug-dealer

"From where?" The woman stopped tussling. She dropped her head.

"I'm sorry," said Nike. "I ask silly questions. Would you like a ride?"

The woman looked up. She glanced at the car. "No."

"I'll pay."

"For what?"

Nike smiled. "For the ride."

"What do you mean?"

– from “Paris Is For Rapists, Too,” a ghost story about a woman and a bunch of men

The light emitting diodes of the console spelled out the time. It was the middle of the night. The dashboard, awash in a dim glow, seemingly floated-a stage lit with miniature footlights. It was polyvinyl chloride. It was dark-like burgundy. Hard, smooth, horizontal, finite, it complemented the straight and endless road. It was: the cross of the crucifixion. I blinked. Was that right? Was the dashboard the beam? the road, the pole plunging headlong into earth? Whither did it will me go?

– from “Paris Is For Rapists, Too,” a ghost story featuring a half-naked nun

"These girls aren't bad."

"Look over there."

"Where? Nice. I give her a seven. The other one is ugly. I'll give her a two."

"Is that guy holding a snake?"

– from “Paris Is For Rapists, Too,” a ghost story featuring not-so-beautiful people

The woman whispered, "A thousand?"

Nike nodded.

She shook her head again. "I don't know."

"I'll give you half. You can walk away with it if you like." Nike held out the money.

– from “Paris Is For Rapists, Too,” a ghost story featuring a cloak

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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.

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

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

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

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: You thought Norfolk had a checkered past. Being a former prison colony's prison colony is nothing next to Pitcairn.

ALICE: I would never have imagined it was like that. I thought it was a paradise.

FLETCHER: I'm writing a play about it - specifically about the woman who chopped off that man's head. She's an ancestor of mine. Maybe later we can go over a few scenes.

ALICE: I'd love to.

FLETCHER: If your neck doesn't still hurt.

ALICE: I'm feeling much better now, thank you.

FLETCHER: If you strained it, you strained it. I have to say, you have surprisingly little tension.

ALICE: It's my honeymoon. I've been having lots of sex.

FLETCHER: You shouldn't have reminded me.

ALICE: Why not?

– ACT I, lines 626-635

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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.

I've never seen a woman as proud as my mother is. As dignified as she tries to be. Lose control of herself in such a disgusting way. She lunged for the computer. She tried to stick her hand between the screen and the keyboard to prevent me from shutting it. As if it were a cannon primed to fire. Aimed at me. And all she had to do was light the fuse.

– from “The Backed-Up Toilet,” a literature story based on real life, namely mine

My success is built not just on courage and understanding but the worst and most disgusting kind of fear and anger. I cannot separate the two. I keep reaching the same conclusion. That there must be some kind of good in evil. A conclusion which I immediately reject. And come back to. Again and again.

– from “A Black Man in Moscow,” an inspirational story that describes life on this planet despite whatever cornor we're hiding in

The day after my own mother attacked me she had the gall to complain to me that her wrists hurt. She told me she would never forget what I did. I wanted to laugh but my wife was there. That's how it got started.

– from “The Backed-Up Toilet,” a literature story based on something that happened, namely to the author

I'll never win with my wife. I used to support her all the time. Until she told me to stop. She said, "Don't coach me. I don't need a coach." So I stopped. I listen to my wife. When she apologizes I'll be there to hear it. I'll accept. That's what husbands do. They listen. They accept. God help them. They clog the toilet.

– from “The Backed-Up Toilet,” a literature story based on reality as I remember it

A finger up the bum was Steve O's favorite cure for a headache. It wasn't always like that. He used to enjoy digging his thumbs into the tops of his eyeballs. At least in the morning. By the afternoon it was all about the booze. A half bottle of wine did the trick. By night it was a decent wank. If he was sober.

– from “A Finger Up The Bum,” a gay fiction story that doesn't take itself seriously, but what you make of it is up to you

Love is the answer...

What are we waiting for? Let's accept it!

Are you a eunuch?

The art show that defies abuse

St. Sebastian

Wall art symbolizing strength and protest

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.

A miniature portrait of MichalMargo at the beach

Help me keep the "Halloween Stories" page up and running...

If you love women and art...

Michal's exporting Polish art...is he bats?

Michal's Sales Pitch
Lot 1: Silesian Handicrafts

  1. T-shirt fundraiser for sale

    Handcrafted t-shirt fundraiser for sale.

    Last T-Shirt with the logo that I designed. Pointer

    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.

  2. Felt handbag for sale

    Handcrafted felt handbag for sale.

    Felt bag by Dorota. Pointer

    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.

  3. Decorative collar for sale

    Handcrafted decorative collar for sale.

    Decorative collar by Zuzanna. Pointer

    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.

  4. Seamless handbag for sale

    Handcrafted seamless handbag for sale.

    Handbag by Sylwia. Pointer

    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.

  5. Patchwork quilt for sale

    Handcrafted patchwork quilt for sale.

    Patchwork quilt by Alicja. Pointer

    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.

  6. Nuno-felt shawl for sale

    Handcrafted nuno-felt shawl for sale.

    Shawl by Sylwia. Pointer

    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.

  7. Clara the doll for sale

    Handcrafted clara the doll for sale.

    Clara by Alicja. Pointer

    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.

  8. Noah the doll for sale

    Handcrafted noah the doll for sale.

    Noah by Alicja. Pointer

    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.

  9. Black suspenders for sale

    Handcrafted black suspenders for sale.

    Black suspenders by Zuzanna. Pointer

    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.

  10. Orange suspenders for sale

    Handcrafted orange suspenders for sale.

    Orange suspenders by Zuzanna. Pointer

    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.

  11. Green suspenders for sale

    Handcrafted green suspenders for sale.

    Green suspenders by Zuzanna. Pointer

    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.

  12. Felt earrings for sale

    Handcrafted felt earrings for sale.

    Felt earrings by Dorota. Pointer

    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.

  13. Round ceramic earrings for sale

    Handcrafted round ceramic earrings for sale.

    Round ceramic earrings by Dorota. Pointer

    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.

  14. Oblong ceramic earrings for sale

    Handcrafted oblong ceramic earrings for sale.

    Oblong ceramic earrings by Dorota. Pointer

    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.

  15. 'Coral' necklace for sale

    Handcrafted 'coral' necklace for sale.

    Corals by Sylwia. Pointer

    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.

Handcrafted t-shirt fundraiser
Handcrafted felt handbag
Handcrafted decorative collar
Handcrafted seamless handbag
Handcrafted patchwork quilt
Handcrafted nuno-felt shawl
Handcrafted clara the doll
Handcrafted noah the doll
Handcrafted black suspenders
Handcrafted orange suspenders
Handcrafted green suspenders
Handcrafted felt earrings
Handcrafted round ceramic earrings
Handcrafted oblong ceramic earrings
Handcrafted 'coral' necklace