Michal makes films in the name of helping women... Does he expect gratitude?
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A strong woman makes me feel strong. A strong woman takes the time and the effort to consider my needs as if they were her own. She listens to me. It's time I started listening to her. I'm proud to listen - even if I fail to meet someone else's needs I can be proud that I took the time to judge them important.
I'm learning how to listen to women - even when they say things that don't make sense. I want to give everyone a chance to do the same - and to benefit from it.
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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Queen Kong
Part 1: Protest, meaning Strange Women
A group of right-wing Polish Nationalist sympathizers assembles on the square near the Vagina Cafe and begins to protest the existence of feminists in the country, claiming among other things that feminists are Nazis.
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...
By the end of my first week in Europe in 2011, I had bought a car and out of the blue had met the woman who would join me on a 6,000 mile trek across the European continent, sharing the beat-up car that I had bought and the one small tent from Walmart that I had brought along with me on my flight.
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 an American passport. She didn't. And the fact that I was driving a car with Polish license plates gave her ample opportunity to point out the difference. It wasn't just police and border guards who ethnically profiled me. Regular folks did it too. One campsite owner didn't shake my hand until he realized I was an American. By that point, I had trained myself to use a simplified English, something that more closely resembled what passes for a lingua franca in Europe these days. Something Margo was trying very hard to master.
Margo and I spent over 40 days on the road. We started out as basically strangers, but in those 40 days we started listening to each other. We started teaching ourselves how to cooperate. Our journey across Europe may have ended, but our journey towards each other continues. No amount of fear, anger, sadness, disgust or anticipation can stop hope. Slowly but surely, we're learning how to beat the devils that abuse us.
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: Science Fiction Films
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 Science Fiction Films
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the words "science fiction films."
Video of me pronouncing "science fiction films."
Definition of Science Fiction Films
I have yet to publish the definition of Science Fiction Films.
I'm sure it won't take too long.
References for science fiction films
I have yet to find good references for Science Fiction Films
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 #49
bieber - that hologear you wanted for your birthday but couldnt find in stock. guess what. my husband got me one. you want to play.
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.
Terrorists were fascinated by cruelty. By the time Jesus regained most of what had lain in terrorist hands, he was already surprised by the number of torture chambers he had found, whose victims could not have possibly been of any strategic importance to terrorism. Nobody was going to make a sensation out of dead citizens whose heads had been decapitated, who had been skinned - no doubt alive - and then force-fed the flesh from their fingers. Nobody liked that except for terrorists, and nobody was going to run and hide who hadn't already done so after hearing that terrorists were even remotely in the neighborhood. It served no purpose but to appease a terrorist's curiosity. There was something extremely fascinating about force-feeding a man his bloody detached penis and testicles. It was great fun for those who considered such victims to be more than guilty for the American government's persecution of their families and their deliberate attempts to starve the nations of outer space.
One can only assume that your mother was not so idiotic as to miss completely the irony of her words. If Jesus, indeed, had been the ruthless man he was later perceived to be, he might have expressly stated that consciously avoiding the mirror all day long and obsessing over one's supposed ugliness was, in effect, a form of vanity. Jesus could've exploited what obviously was your mother's hapless exposure of her own foolishness. Instead, he faltered. Perhaps thanks to a combination of intuition and pity, Jesus immediately toned down his words and began justifying.
Most importantly, we gained a culture of wealth. Music, art and poetry must have a cost. The higher the cost, the better the art. After all, musicians need instruments, sculptors need rock, and poets need to travel. They must be well fed, and thus the Golden Age of each and every nation has been built on gold. Poeta nascitur, et fit. Alexander was made on the slopes of Mount Pangaion. Poland's Golden Age was built on grain, traveling by raft or barge - or even (in the case of a real entrepreneur) by skiff - down the great Vistula River, which took its golden rye by twists and turns and dangerous spring waters into the great city of Danzig. The great age of mercantilism it was! Renaissance of trade and culture! In Poland, safeguarded by the great magnates and latifundia: may they come to reign again! This time, with machines!
The Reserve Army division (whose general staff headquarters had been placed in Treblinka) was supposed to be preventing terrorists from joining up with their brethren in Poznan (to the north) or else from filtering through the southwestern Polish countryside towards the nearest spaceport around, located a few miles south of Warsaw. The Reserve Army, in the few weeks since Wroclaw had fallen under terrorist siege, had made several very important and surprising accomplishments: it had finally stopped favoring Germany and German interests; it had finally looked past the so-called 'Looney Triangle' of Hamburg, Bremen, and Berlin; it had finally considered the possibility that terrorists were being manipulated (or else directly controlled) by an agent or agents whose agendas had very little in common with terrorists' traditional goals of killing Americans and their allies - after all, what the hell were they doing on planet Earth? They had plenty of soft targets in outer space and especially in Earth's orbit - they were consciously neglecting them. That made no sense whatsoever. The Reserve Army finally deployed two divisions east. As an afterthought, one was sent down to Silesia, while the main contingent made a beeline to the capital. Thanks to them, Jesus found his way out.
The Brigade might've been relocated (or disbanded even, considering the Union army's expansion in those days) if not for the efforts made by northern districts in Wroclaw to lobby the President's office. Their local economies were intimately tied to the presence of a Polish army base and Handerek, belonging to the political party whose coalition was ruling Parliament (with single-digit support ratings in local polls), could not afford to lose a single district in the upcoming election. The bureaucratic mess in Warsaw helped, and, as long as Handerek made sure the soldiers of the Twenty-third didn't starve to death, Poland's defense minister was willing to look the other way. Without his support, no one, especially not the head of Section 1-A (the administrative section of Poland's general staff), was going to be convinced - by Lipski or any of his higher-placed friends - to do anything to change the god-awful status quo. Lipski was on his own - with a rising suicide rate, and no better method of upholding effectiveness other than harsh discipline and merciless drills.
A literature book narrated by a pair of siblings on either side of the Atlantic whose profoundly weird sexual experiences pose a serious challenge to their traditional understanding of mathematicians, marriage, gay young men and God.
But that's not all. You're not subject to your generation. You're not subject to your era: because you understand, for example, how modern technology shapes your opinion. You're conscious of things like that, and that nullifies the effect. You understand how these things keep controlling you; you're able to intuit what you don't know, and you can tell which part of the picture's missing. So when it comes to politics, you play your hand like everybody else. But you've been counting cards. And you know how every party is subject to weather. So you pick your battles - just like me. Except that I'm on the periphery, and you have to swing from one place to another, depending on which machine happens to be singing your tune.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 2, The Second Day, Part 1, Labor & Economic Reform, Section 11, Talking Politics, Paragraph 47, Clauses 10-20
Looking from beyond his tinted window, he spied upon the gathering crowds. He looked at every face, conscious of the possibility that she might be wearing different garments. How impossible, he thought. How purely impossible! There was a multitude! He was only looking in one direction: he was looking left. There was no time to look right. He would have to look on that side on the way back. But what if he missed her!
ANDY: Do you see what I'm saying? If two people can have sex without loving each other, and they can also love each other without having sex, then what exactly justifies that statement: that sex is the expression of love? As far as I can tell, there is nothing. There is only the reality that loving a person makes sex that much better; it doesn't make it necessary.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 5, The Fifth Day, Part 1, Greenery & Land Reform, Section 5, Surrendering the Debate, Paragraph 6, Clauses 1-2
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.
Junior admired golf. It took an amount of discipline he lacked in regard to women. He noticed similarities between the sports. In each case, though it was possible to play with teams, the goal remained essentially one of individual accomplishment. A man had to use his club to get the ball, or the contents of his ball, into the hole.
Luka took a short cut. He turned abruptly onto the Route du Point du Jour à Bagatelle. He reached the cul-de-sac. Long green lawns glimmered through the trees. He veered onto the Route de la Longue Queue. He would shadow the Reine north. He could reach the Boulevard. Avenue Charles de Gaulle would be a stone's throw away.
There she was. She was on the right side of the road, waiting to cross. Luka slowed. He stopped in front of her. He looked into the back. Nike was still unconscious.
When Shephard regained consciousness, he couldn't see. He was blindfolded. His hands were tied. He was in the back seat of a car. Shephard concentrated on the road. It had to be the desert highway. He was sure of it. No other road could be so smooth. His driver had made a point of mentioning it. The sun was to Shephard's right. It was sunset-no question about it. They were heading south. They turned west. They were heading towards town. Shephard heard vehicles. It was the traffic circle. They turned right. They were entering an Uyghur neighborhood.
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: What do you know about it, pig farmer?
GREY GOOSE: Raising hogs teaches respect for discipline. I know what you've been doing. You've been putting the moves on Luke's wife: shame on you.
FLETCHER: There's a good explanation for that.
GREY GOOSE: All you've learned around here is how to chase girls.
FLETCHER: As if you never chased.
GREY GOOSE: I stopped when I found one I wanted: a woman who loved me back. You're too stupid to do that, aren't you?
A story book full of short fiction stories. An interesting bedtime mystery. A fairy tale. Science fiction romance. Adult life. Uninspiring gay fiction. Horror.
The two men stared at each other. Orbitz said, "You're me."
The man nodded. He smiled and said, "I'm me."
"How did you get here?"
"A singularity," said Orbitz Número Dos. "Next to the gas giant in the corner of the Trapezium cluster."
"That's where I'm heading."
"I know," said Orbitz Número Dos. "I was just there."
The Amazon rushed into the interrogation room. He grabbed the shopkeeper's head and pulled it back. He stared into his eyes. He didn't have to ask the questions. He had already convinced himself. He let go of the man. He started pacing. His mind raced. The creature was a telepath of immense power. It went beyond distinguishing truth from falsehood. It could tell how far a man was willing to go. It could sense how much a man was willing to sacrifice. The Amazon started laughing. He turned to the shopkeeper and slapped his face with the back of his hand. The stupid fool couldn't see past the doors of his own shop. With a creature of such power a Amazon could conquer the universe. The shopkeeper looked up. His face was awash with blood. The Amazon grabbed him. He seethed with the impatience born of greed. He stared into his man's eyes and growled, "Where is it?"
"This is why I'm here," said Orbitz Nombre Trois. He looked at the clock. "The Alliance inspectors will be here soon. I'm going to take the body to my ship."
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.
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If you love women and art...
Michal's exporting art from Poland...is he meshugge?
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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