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...
One week after arriving in Europe, I met a woman in the sauna on the ground floor of the large villa she shared with her ex-husband. Four weeks later she was sharing a small rain-soaked tent with me in Vienna, our little gas-fired stove barely capable of boiling a cup of water. It wasn't until we reached Croatia that we decided to invest in a large electric kettle. It was quite the luxury and it made me very happy.
Though as an artist I had been working on body acceptance since the start of my career, and as a one-time practicing figure model was used to being nude in a social setting, I had been left largely unexposed to the community of naturists and nudists working towards the same goal of promoting the human being. Visiting nude beaches and resorts along the East Coast and participating in events organized around New York by Young Naturists America, I was left hungry for more and had come to Europe to see things from their side of the pond. Margo was my introduction.
From America I brought with me the American can-do spirit. She saw the car that I had bought, the terrible camp stove I had borrowed, and my sundry canned goods and challenged me to make-do. In my optimism I assured her that if we lacked for anything I would make up the difference. She assured me that if she lacked for anything she would find her way to the nearest airport and fly home. Luckily that never happened.
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 Romance
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 Romance
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the words "science fiction romance."
Video of me pronouncing "science fiction romance."
Definition of Science Fiction Romance
I have yet to publish the definition of Science Fiction Romance.
I'm sure it won't take too long.
References for science fiction romance
I have yet to find good references for Science Fiction Romance
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 #7154
and we need pencils. special ones. dermatographic. for marking the skin. and a pair of extra.long mayo scissors. if i know what those are.
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.
I well remember how your father's mother struggled. Once in a while, her attacks were long and devastating, terrifying everybody else gathered around. Her skin would turn blue: she would look like a heavenly creature in hell, surrounded by devils, gasping for God's great air as if we lost mortals were choking her with our own breaths, bellowing out carbon oxides, unclean combinations of two otherwise beneficial elements: diamond air, which would form to cut through our hearts whenever we started feverishly running around to help her. We were dragons breathing smoke, as far as she was concerned. Give me air - she must have thought - not smoke! We would crowd around her unnecessarily; your father would look into her eyes, caress her face - but she wouldn't stop gasping. More than one innocent bystander must have jumped, as I often did, at the prospect of gallantly locking lips to give her air, only to sit back in self-conscious superfluity, cringing at the thought of one's potential motive.
Julia's boyfriend excused himself. I didn't bother to ask whither he was going. I didn't really care. Sitting there, I stared. Zoe Guderian stared back. What a strange-looking girl she was: beautiful, but not quite 'pretty' - ungainly even, but fascinating: sometimes cute, and sometimes gorgeous - never both at the same time - captivating and bewildering: strange - in a word, alien.
Meanwhile, as the battle escalated into the night, a small company of brave terrorists escaped by jumping from the windows of buildings. They were headed south and reappeared a few kilometers later at Kummersdorf, where Hitler Panzer-Tank the Third, your grandfather, owned and operated a spaceport. It was called 'Panzer-Tank Spaceport at Kummersdorf' - your grandfather had many spaceports, one of which was at Kummersdorf. The terrorists took over the spaceport and held it for two days. When it was recaptured by Panzer-Tank's own security forces (the Panzer-Tank Spaceport Police) they discovered that the terrorists had been preparing for a launch - in fact, the launch vehicle was moments away from lift-off when the control room was seized. People were fascinated by this news.
Going off on my own for a while, I encountered a medium-sized fly agaric. Its bright red-orange cap was fascinating and poisonous. Wondering what it was like to eat it, I pondered its colors for a brief time. Then I left. Continuing through the straight rows of wood, I passed another fly agaric, this time a smaller one. I didn't like it. I kept my eyes on it while I walked. When I turned my head, there was a spider's web right in front of me. I stopped. Turning left, there was another spider's web right in front of my eyes. Undaunted, but upset, I turned around and walked a few paces. There were spider's webs all around. Turning south, I went back to that small specimen of fly agaric. I stomped it into the ground. I crushed it, but I didn't kill it. I went south until I found that medium-sized fly agaric whose bright red-orange cap had fascinated my imagination. I kicked it, shooting it off into the distance, leaving it alone and uprooted for the elements to wear away, for the bugs and mean things to eat it, for the inevitable onset of decomposition and hastened death.
"It was very big news back then, I assure you - and I'm not surprised that they found it. You'll notice that Treblinka has at least one of everything. It makes you never want to leave: one theatre, one basilica, one convent, one rotunda, and one homo erectus archeological dig. Now, you might not be ready to believe this, but, in the campsite - the homo erectus campsite - they found rhinoceros bones - and, whether or not you choose to believe, as the scientists have already assumed, that primitive man hunted rhinoceros, I hope you come to accept the simple fact that, at some point, we even entertained a wild rhinoceros in our midst. Can you image hunting wild rhinoceros around here? With a pointy stick?"
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.
This is not to say that such a meticulous pattern of behavior, over such a lengthy period, must necessarily be a conscious effort. On the contrary, this effort, being slow and cautious, betrays a very deep-rooted desire, the kind of bearable craving that drives the very soul, but which, on the surface of consciousness, may only seem like a sort of innocuous nagging - indeed, if one feels anything at all, which isn't usually the case.
– Title 2, Regarding the Romaniac, Part 1, Section 5, Warts, Paragraph 2, Clauses 1-2
The surface of Thaïs is so brilliant, the tunes so seductive in every sense, that you can understand people not bothering to discover what lurks underneath. There is plenty there, not all of it comfortable in its dissection of the human condition, and that, combined with the opera's obvious and immediate attractions, accounts for its special fascination. Massenet's reputation sank to its lowest ebb after the Second World War' - blah, blah, blah - 'first complete recording' - blah, blah, blah. They don't say anything about the movies. Oh well.
– Title 3, Regarding a Dream, Chapter 1, The First Day, Part 1, Victory & Calendar Reform, Section 12, Opera, Paragraph 32, Clauses 10-15
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.
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.
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.
"I was getting to that. Scientists reconstructed her face from what were supposedly her bones. It was all over the news. The boys in there think I look like her."
Shephard smiled. He leaned in close. He inhaled. He whispered, "You don't smell so bad either." Pepsi giggled.
Neal was unconscious. Tatum wondered if he were breathing. She unscrewed his helmet. She put her face over his mouth. There was nothing. Tatum squeezed his nose. She formed a seal around his mouth with her lips. She breathed. She broke away. There was nothing. She did it again. Nothing. One more time. Tatum slapped the man in the face. She slapped him again and again. She slapped him as hard as she could.
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.
"This is truth," said the Astrazeneca.
Sara Lee was shown a picture of Captain Orbitz. She was asked if she had ever met the man. She squinted. She thought about it. She said, "Yes."
"I'm sorry," said Orbitz. "I must be mistaken." He turned to the door. The surveillance team watched him come outside. He looked left. He looked right. He crossed the street. There was a cheap hotel on the other side. Orbitz got himself a room on the second floor. The surveillance team pointed their little parabolic dishes. They heard nothing but breathing.
Orbitz Número Dos shook his head. "It's not different," he said. "I was hoping it would be. I've already heard myself saying these things."
"You were standing where I'm standing?" asked Orbitz Number One. Orbitz Número Dos stared blankly. "Are you saying there's no way to change the future or the past?"
Orbitz Número Dos came back to his senses. He said, "The present is everything. The rest is memory. I remember the past. I remember the future. I remember this moment."
"If I touch you," said Orbitz Number One, "will you disappear?"
By the time Captain Orbitz returned to Alliance headquarters in the Solar System two things had happened. First his DNA was found at a raided underground Wiki-en meeting place on Mars. Second and more importantly the longest-serving courier in Alliance history with a record 32 trips across branes was officially declared lost. He entered a singularity in the Cygnus Arm and two hundred fifty milliarc-seconds later his ship's quantum entangler had yet to respond. There were no sightings of him at any manned transit points in either Alliance or Alliance-friendly territory. No wreckage was found. The man like so many interstellar travelers before him had simply vanished into the two-dimensional fracas known as inter-brane space. This made Orbitz not technically the oldest man in the Orion Arm but its first born citizen. His long dead mother had given birth to him thousands of years ago. It made him a celebrity.
It's natural to hide dirty things. They're embarrassing. But we need to keep in mind that when we hide things that are difficult, we make them seem dirty when they're really something else entirely. And when we keep things that are easy in plain sight, we make them seem clean when they really aren't. That is dangerous.
Help maintain the "Science Fiction Romance" page alive...
If you love women and art...
Michal's importing art...is he gaga?
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.
Michal Recommends:
