Michal's HeadlinesLife Stories

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

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Fairleigh-Dickinson

Independent University in New Jersey

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FDU has campuses in NJ, England & Canada
Margo behind a tree

Life Stories, a cultural reference

Understanding the world from all angles...

Michal wants to name his film production company after a feminist cafe... What is he thinking?Filmy dla Kobiet poster

People have needs. We often fail to meet them. That can be painful and often tragic. I would also say unavoidable. What we can avoid is closing ourselves off from each other. When we listen to each other - when we consider another person's needs as if they were our own - we turn one person's failure into a measure of victory. We start to transform each individual sadness into a common joy.Pointer

Having learned to consider a woman's needs as if they were my own - no matter how ridiculous - I've given myself a chance to grow. I want to give that chance to others.

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 22: A Cold Wagon

Janina describes how their group built a roof to cover their open train wagon, contrasting their summer journey with the one faced by a teacher of hers earlier in the war, who was exiled to Siberia by Soviet forces and forced to travel in an unheated wagon in the dead of winter with an infant child.

Help End Asocial Behavior 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

My plane touched down in Poland on June 20th. A month later I was in Austria. Two days later, Slovenia. The next day, Croatia. A week later, Italy. The next day, Switzerland. The next day, France. The next day, Germany. The next day, Belgium. The next day, Holland. All with a woman I had met my first weekend on the Continent.

Though I felt fully formed as a writer, and had been trained in visual language, it was my first time with a professional camera in my hands. I was just learning the ins and outs and had come to Europe to find as diverse a selection of subject matter as possible, preferably something that fit my aesthetic devotion to promoting body acceptance. Enter 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.

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

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

6,000 miles across Europe with a complete stranger

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Day 18
8/6/2011
 17༛25/24

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Naturistenbun Rhein-Main

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Trebur, Germany

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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:
Life 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 Life StoriesMargo on a trampoline

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

Video of me pronouncing "life stories."

Definition of Life StoriesMargo on a trampoline

I have yet to publish the definition of Life Stories.

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

References for life storiesMargo on a trampoline

  • I have yet to find good references for Life 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.

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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 #6021

i risked my life for harley. i almost died for her. that changes something. i keep hearing how she cared for me. that cant just be gratitude.

Sprint "Iphone" Case

20 December, 7:27 PM

Frame #3388

thats the question. did twitter cost me ten mill or did he save my life. ill never know. he took away my chance. my one shot.

Chase Credit

5 September, 10:01 AM

Frame #5226

nothing in the traps. i wonder how much of the wildlife was swept away. probably a lot.

Sprint "Iphone" Case

11 November, 8:42 AM

Frame #5762

we keep passing little islands full of shadowy buildings. silent monuments of survival. testaments to a bygone life left behind.

Sprint "Iphone" Case

6 December, 5:27 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.

"That's right," said his uncle, giggling. "It's a shortcut." To a cheap watering hole! where men turned into whimpering dogs, keeling over and crying for their masters. They were worthless hounds, chained and beaten by devils, abandoned by the Devil himself, who cares for richer meat: not old men! Rotten men! Men with false teeth! Sucking on shotglass! Nursing their own beer mugs as if they were fat whores' teats! Breathing more smoke than air! Jesus blacked out! The next thing he knew, he was smelling his own vomit: dried vomit: putrid vomit: fresh, ethanol vomit - all of it caked onto his face and arms, his clothes, the convertible sofa, spilling onto the wet floor, in a puddle of red-orange puke. How many stages of vomit? Some of it was flaking off. Some of it was rolled into balls. (During the night, vomit crumbs had been collecting in his ass.) Most of it was half-dried. The rest of it was liquid. For a second, Jesus had no idea where he was. When he realized he was lying on his own sofa, he wondered how he had gotten there. The last thing he remembered was being cradled in his beloved uncle's arms. Why was he being cradled? He was drunk. But why was he being cradled? Had his uncle been whispering something? Lullabies? What the fuck! What kind of life is that? He rejected it.

Verse 375 from the chapter called Adolescence

"We survived how many regimes? Countless regimes from either side: we did it by sticking to our farms, Jesus, by keeping our heads up at the plough, by never letting go. That's how we survived. That's how the Old Republic lived on: in the hearts and minds of ploughmen. When you're in the hills, Jesus, men still use horses: machines would tip over. But those men are small farmers, Jesus - not big. Now what's happening? The climate's changed? All of a sudden, we can make it big on the world market? Sure, but let's not kill a way of life. Let's keep the good. You think these people around here want to be my friends? My neighbors? No: of course not! But: back in the day, we had business with each other: that's what makes for a community. And now what? There's no business: who could give a rat's ass what you do or who you are?

Verse 303 from the chapter called Adolescence

In the latest, it read, in a series of ethical dilemmas, Georgetown University has lost yet another controversial professor to the world of big business - this time to Yariba, the corporation responsible for the Olympus Mons Regeneration Center, the chief gear in a massive integrated power and irrigation system that forms the lifeblood of the planet Mars. Yariba Corporation, an energy and transportation conglomerate based in Japan, but with branch offices throughout the red planet, has become interested in Prof. Mae Mac's research in tissue-integrated robotics in conjunction with its so-called Jupiter Project, Yariba's expansion into information systems which hopes to place the management and operation of the Olympus Mons Regeneration Center into the hands of a so-called supercomputer. Prof. Mae Mac, who plans to relocate to Mars, has just returned from a six-month sabbatical in Poland. Back in her plush, three-story home in Alexandria, Virginia, which she shares with longtime companion...

Verse 751 from the chapter called Adolescence

"My mother's got the blues," your father would have to say, whenever anyone bothered to ask: "Hey, Jesus: where's your mother at?" It was never far from the truth: his mother was bedridden for most of her life. She was in fifty different sanitoriums as a child. Plagued by fatigue, there were days when she wouldn't even move: she would just lie there in the same position all day long, not moving a single muscle - not even to scratch. On the other hand, sometimes there were weeks or even months when she could work miracles. In those days, she could work all day long, cleaning houses for rich Jews in America, selling fancy rocks in the suburbs of Poland: "Flagstones! Get your flagstones!" I can imagine her yelling. I don't know, but I was told she would split those flags herself, loading them onto a truck she borrowed from a friend. What a strange and beautiful woman she was.

"Hey, Jesus: where's your mother at?"

Verses 45-46 from the chapter called Adolescence

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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.

Like a plantar wart on the sole of your foot, this feeling is a very common, and yet abnormal, proliferation of growth, caused by infection, which normally would be painless, and is, until it expands to a place of pressure, so that, with each step, it painfully flattens itself against the surface of your body and you can barely see it without careful examination.

– Title 2, Regarding the Romaniac, Part 1, Section 5, Warts, Paragraph 2, Clauses 3-4

She is to blame for my illness. But she is not alone. I blame her husband as well. I accuse the pair of them. They have both conspired against me. They are both responsible for the inflammation of my memory, for the dwarfing of my consciousness. In the face of recent events, I have been supremely humbled. First, I was invited, and then, I freely entered into something much larger than myself: a world, a life shared by these two. A marriage, a beautiful marriage, when it's healthy and complete, sanctified by Church and united by God himself, is not a safe place for a human observer: it is too large a corporation, too overwhelming - especially when one must witness its final destruction. Then the immensity of the affair is made apparent: for only in passing will such immensity be seen. Otherwise, it stays mostly invisible, like the great horizon.

– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 4, Self-image, Paragraph 3

But by describing this malaise, I do not mean to imply that these people are accustomed to death - that is a good thing if they have it; my suspicion is that many of these people - and not just in the hospital but outside as well - many of these people walking around are unaccustomed to life. I'm not sure what I mean - perhaps I mean that these people are too familiar with their pedestrian existence - but no matter what I mean, I do have the feeling that many of the patients here would know what I'm trying to describe - I'm sure those people have plenty of poetry to share - but they are not in this room with me, are they? They are not locked in a room with a sleeping dead man; nor do I think they are trying to give their sisters poetry. They are trying to survive, and that is plenty poetic for anyone.

– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 2, Poetics, Paragraph 6, Clauses 5-8

BERT: I know, but I don't want you to stop: I want you to keep playing the rest of your life - do you hear me? I want you to keep having fun - even when you're being serious - do you understand?

OLYMP: No.

BERT: Well, that's alright. You don't have to understand yet. All you have to do is take care of your sister - alright?

OLYMP: Alright.

BERT: Do you promise?

OLYMP: Yes.

BERT: Tell me that you promise me.

OLYMP: I promise.

BERT: To do what?

OLYMP: I promise to take care of my sister.

– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 4, The Fourth Day, Part 2, The Assembly & Government Reform, Section 7, Properly Taking One's Leave, Paragraphs 49-58

ANDY: My sister can claim whatever she wants. If she wants to claim that she has never been sexually attracted to anyone in her entire life, I am perfectly happy believing her. As for me, I've been attracted way too many times and by all sorts of people. But I'm not going to sit here and tell you that they've all been men, or women, or mostly men or mostly women since I don't care.

MACY: Why not? You don't think it's important?

– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 5, The Fifth Day, Part 1, Greenery & Land Reform, Section 4, Searching For Independence, Paragraphs 10-11

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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.

"I can tell. It's hard-under these circumstances. You don't have time to see every angle. A man's gotta be careful. That one I saw back there isn't gonna last long. By the time we circle around, she'll be gone."

"This rubbernecking is insane."

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

I was frightened. I wanted no harm to come to her. Nike troubled me. He was so unpredictable. What would he do? Would he hurt her? Would he make her do something she didn't want to do? This was my dream. I was helpless. I had no hands to hold back my friend-no body but that which was made of air.

I prayed.

– from “Paris Is For Rapists, Too,” a ghost story featuring a frank discussion of prostitution

The wisp of white moved. She quickened pace. Was she scared? Nikki stepped on a branch. I heard it crack. My heart leapt. I glanced at the figure. She wouldn't stop. Had she not heard? She knew how dangerous it was. Her ears had to be perked. I gasped. I thought maybe the sound was drowned out by the thumping of her heart.

– from “Paris Is For Rapists, Too,” a ghost story featuring the Bois the Boulogne

"Of course. That's for your own good. If you don't like it, you'll need to find a real junky. They can't afford to come here-to the forest? You'd have to go to Nation Place. You wouldn't like it. They're all about money-not like these girls."

"They are not what I call girls."

– from “Paris Is For Rapists, Too,” a ghost story featuring poverty of the body

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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: 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: 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

(GREY GOOSE exits. ALICE and FLETCHER enter with scripts in hand.)

FLETCHER: Thank you for doing this. I appreciate it immensely.

ALICE: It's my pleasure. I love supporting new plays and new playwrights. Is this a comedy or a tragedy?

FLETCHER: I suppose it's more of a romance.

ALICE: Which part am I playing?

FLETCHER: You are Tera-ura. I'm playing Thursday October: Fletcher Christian's son.

ALICE: Cute name.

FLETCHER: He was named after his birthday, despite the fact that he was born on the third day of the week. I guess Wednesday October would've sounded more like a girl's name.

ALICE: Am I a Tahitian woman?

FLETCHER: You're not just any Tahitian woman; you're my ancestor.

– ACT II, lines 31-39

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

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

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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 been to Hong Kong. I was in Macao once. I lost 25,000 dollars at the casino. I won it back later in Vegas but while I was in Macao and out of money I went for a walk. To clear my head. To get away from the tables. To my great amusement I stumbled upon a street named after Sir Lima. The street ran right into another street named Rebelo. There was a bank on the corner.

– from “Beautiful Branca,” a true story that changes certain facts if I even remember them correctly

I was glad I had the chocolates. I handed them out on the minibus. It was a good thing I had the towel too. It was pouring rain by the time the village headman took me to my room. It was a little cabin next to his barn. He had to run a cord from his house to run the refrigerator. The stove ran on gas bottles which the headman was willing to sell me. If it hadn't been raining, I wouldn't have known there was a leak right over my bed. At least not until I was sleeping in it.

– from “A Black Man in Moscow,” an inspirational story that describes life on this world no matter where you live

My friends kept telling me I was crazy. They said no matter how bad it is in the city at least I have friends. In the village I would have nobody. It was true. I didn't argue. I didn't want them to know what was on my mind. I was thinking what good are friends if they can't protect you. I knew it wasn't their fault.

– from “A Black Man in Moscow,” an inspirational story that describes life on this planet, though hopefully we can change

I'm not angry. My wife is a sensitive person. I understand that. I'm counting on it. Eventually my wife's sense of smell and her lust and perhaps even her sense of justice will overcome her sense of pride.

– from “The Backed-Up Toilet,” a literature story based on somebody's real life, namely the author's

Love is the answer...

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

Are you a eunuch?

The art show that defies abuse

Filth, Portraiture

Censorship says everything...as should modern wall art

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.

A miniature portrait of MichalMargo at the beach

Your purchases keep the "Life Stories" page alive...

If you love women and art...

Michal's exporting art from Poland...is he berserk?

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