I'm not a fool. I know that most people indulge their baser emotions. Wanting to feel dominant or submissive comes easy. Wanting to approach someone on an equal basis and reaping joy from that requires a high level of cooperation. It requires you to consider another person's needs as if they were your own.
Through hard work and perseverance, I've learned to start listening to women. I'd be proud to give everyone a chance to make that lesson stick for them.
I've decided to export fine art handcrafted by women in Poland to America. High quality handcrafted art produced by high quality women deserves to be shared. The more I can sell stateside to people who know the difference, the more I can buy from those whose worthy hands to continue the fight for openness and equality, a fight that I've taken to the world wide web.
Your support ensures that films for women will make a difference.
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Janina: An Oral History of the Twentieth Century in Southern Poland
Chapter 10: A Shared History
Janina tells an important story from the town of Trembowla's past and describes her encounter with the Ukrainian who now lives in the house she once called home.
Each successive pillar of culture is built upon the previous one. Just as you cannot have Saturday without Friday, you cannot have a strong military without successful children. You can't have successful children without good science. Proper science requires a strong and confident body politic to accept its conclusions. A strong body politic, a peaceful assembly, is made up of strong families. A family is built upon labor. Labor is guided by art.
Good art is a good idea well expressed. A victory over oblivion. Carry that thought down the line. Efficient labor sows the fruit of capitalism. The members of a loving family pray to each other. A just constitution keeps the assembly focused. Science studies movement. Education inspires children. Children grow strong and defend our freedom. Democracy thrives.
Our problem is not that we lack a strong army or smart teachers or scientists or political dialogue or money or prayer. Our probem is that nothing ties it together. Our culture is unraveling. We have business executives who only care about the bottom line. We have church leaders who only care about the good name of the church. We have politicians who only care about getting re-elected. We have artists who only care about their self-expression.
Our pillars of culture have climbed quite high. Yet there's nothing but hot air at the top. There's no roof over our heads. We're exposed. Either nobody taught the people at the top to listen to each other or the only way to get to the top is by not listening. Don't say nobody taught us how. Whenever people try we crucify them. That has to change. We need to accept the fact that we are building this church of Man together and it needs a roof.
We need to bridge the pillars of culture.
Pronunciation of The Christmas Story
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the words "the christmas story."
Video of me pronouncing "the christmas story."
Definition of The Christmas Story
I have yet to publish the definition of The Christmas Story.
I'm sure it won't take too long.
References for the christmas story
I have yet to find good references for The Christmas Story
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 #3984
were at the academy. the key word in the online review was safe. i didnt realize it was a christian academy. more girls in plaid skirts.
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 night, Jesus and Zoe almost made love. Getting into bed, Jesus kissed her on the mouth. Zoe went wild. Rolling around, they kissed, pushed, pulled, hugged and squeezed. Zoe removed Jesus's clothes. She saw the tattooed Christogram upon his chest. She was sitting astride Jesus's waist. Pulling up her shirt, Jesus brought her back to attention. She removed it: she removed her shirt! and her bra and pulled Jesus up against her chest. Squeezing tightly, Jesus smelled the beautiful strength upon her breasts and kissed them. He pushed her down to the side of the bed and she spread her legs. Jesus mounted her and he was ready to do it, but there was too much: too much whirling around in his head: too much at stake: his destiny, his word, Zeus on Mars, and this half-Martian, half-Japanese creature in his bed, waiting to be fucked! Something was wrong. Jesus wanted her. He wanted to love this woman but not now: not here: not like this. This would have to wait. Jesus was quickly losing steam. The thought that Zoe must have prepared for this - must be taking contraceptives (there was no way she was looking to conceive) - was the occasion that finally prompted Jesus to cease rubbing himself up and down your mother's wet and fully engorged vulva.
In thanksgiving for not having died from spoiled ketchup, Jesus tattooed a Christogram onto his chest. The rho came stretching up his breastbone. The chi was slashed across his breast. There was also an upside-down number tattooed alongside it: these were the coordinates to his mother's grave. Jesus showed his men his new tattoo.
The Pope liked my idea very much: a Knighthood to protect the faith (and the interests of the Church) on Mars was the best thing the Holy Father had heard in a very long time. Despite its militaristic attributes, the idea of a Knighthood was very spiritually appealing. It was the perfect instrument for a godless place like Mars, which would have to be first reclaimed from the revolutionary grip, and then claimed for Christ. It was a very dangerous place: this planet Mars. Its people were like the base parts left by a bad harvest, when the ground, after years of abuse, lies weak and exhausted. They would have to be baptized with fire. They would have to be burned by the love of Christ.
The most surprising thing of all was the number of hooligans that flagellation recalled for the benefit of Christ. At first, everything was good. Debts were absolved; enemies made peace. Even stolen property was returned; weapons, given up - everything with no questions asked. Broken windows were even replaced! Then, as more and more hooligans joined up, they began reverting to their old ways. Too many confraternities were competing for members. When two different processions accidentally bumped into each other, old rivalries flared up. "Skorupa rules! It's for hool's!" one side yelled. The other side said, "Lick my bloody sacrament!" Then they beat each other with whips. What a failure it was for the Holy Mother Church.
"I figured: if I'm going to be standing, I might as well take Communion in my hands. After all, the archbishop said, 'Alright.' So I went up and offered my cupped hands to the closest Eucharistic Minister. He hesitated, but he had to give it. The next week, my second target - this time, the concelebrant - also hesitated, but he too had to give it. The third week, I went to the main celebrant. You know what he did? He was expecting me. I approached him with my hands cupped. He said, 'The Body of Christ.' Just as I was about to say 'Amen,' that man stuffed it into my mouth. Can you believe that?
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.
We were in Austria for Christmas, and Mother found out that Indiana was in Hungary; she invited her over, and she and Albert came for Christmas - for a week.
After thanking her, I told Indiana I remembered giving Albert a CD for Christmas not so long ago. "Yes," she said, "the Rusalka. He really likes it. But I don't know where it is. I wish I had time to look for it." Sure enough, when I opened the carousel, there she was: Renée Fleming and the Czech Philharmonic. I cursed myself for not checking earlier. But then I had to brace myself, and prepare my fragile psyche to endure the back-to-back sounds of Dvořák, National Anthems of the World, and best of all, Soap Opera's Favorite Wedding Music - all in heavy rotation. By the end of that first day of painting, I was crazier than Indiana could ever be. I was singing to the moon, high up in the deep sky: mĕsíčku na nebi hlubokém, formez vos bataillons! marchons! marchons to the alter!
Now failing every other opportunity, a young maiden still had one last chance to see her future husband. Beginning on the thirteenth of December, on the feast day of Santa Lucia, the young woman could take one bite of an apple everyday, making sure that on Christmas Eve, she would take the very last bite, and then, with luck, she would see her future husband.
Grandmother told me that young maidens wanting to marry would place these cherry branches next to the fire, specifically on St. Barbara's Day, and if they bloomed on Christmas Eve, they would be married in the coming year. I, out of simple curiosity, was compelled to follow that tradition. But Grandmother's cherry tree was all but barren; I held very little hope for its blooming. Now, according to Mother, I specifically chose a dead branch, so that I could later have an excuse not to marry. On the other hand, Grandmother felt it was only appropriate, since marrying me would take a miracle. Now that is how they answered Indiana's question that night.
That Christmas Eve in Austria was very memorable, and Indiana had much to do with it. Though she had been fawning over Olympia for most of the conversation, when Grandmother began discussing Santa Lucia, she became conspicuously engaged. Grandmother was describing a most curious practice of apple consumption.
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.
"Do's not lucky."
"She's lucky to have you. Take her. Teach her about your Christ. She's not a child like Jing. She's smart. She'll listen."
Kwon thought about it. He realized it was a good idea. He asked Do to marry him.
"What?" she cried. "I'm pregnant with Hong's child. How can you stand to look at me?"
They weren't alone. Physical intimacy was the first order of business for almost everybody. Kung did it with Bei. Kong the ATM thief did it with Jing the lottery cheat. Even the old man got busy. Tae was surprised to learn he did it with Do. "What happened?" he asked Kwon. "I left you two alone. Why didn't you take advantage?"
"Genghis was kind. He served the Christian Mongols of my mother's tribe. As he grew in power, their jealousy overcame them. His blood brother abandoned him. The Christian chief refused to give his daughter in marriage. That was considered a great insult.
"Genghis defeated them. Though his blood brother had fought against him, he offered to reestablish their friendship. That is magnanimity. His brother refused out of pride. That is sin."
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.
KOKOMO: It is. I keep telling you that.
FLETCHER: Maybe for Catholics: you have thousands of years of ritual to fall back on: Popes and bishops to decide for you.
KOKOMO: That's not fair.
FLETCHER: I'm supposed to be my own priest.
KOKOMO: Maybe you should start praying.
FLETCHER: For what? For the will to become Catholic?
KOKOMO: You know what I am. You've taken the time to study what my faith requires. I'm overjoyed by that. I realize it angers you sometimes. You need to remember it isn't about priests or prayer or sacraments or the Bible or saints or miracles or doctrine or creed. It's not even about salvation. It's about sacrifice. If you, Fletcher Christian, are not willing to place yourself into the hands of God - to submit yourself to His Divine Mercy - then nothing else matters and there will never be any happiness between us.
FLETCHER: I see that.
KOKOMO: You don't see it.
FLETCHER: How can you tell?
– ACT I, lines 1342-1351
MS. JACKSON: Fletcher!
FLETCHER: That's right. You were a Jackson to begin with. Then you became a Christian. Now you're a Jackson again. My mistake.
ALICE: What was his old name?
FLETCHER: Alexander Smith.
LESBIAN: It's a good thing he changed it. There are plenty of Smiths.
FLETCHER: And not enough Christians.
LUKE: It must be tough havin' an island full of your rellies: bunch of stickybeaks.
LESBIAN: I suppose it came as a great relief when they named a New Zealander their prime suspect.
MS. JACKSON: It ended a frightening period for all of us. Everybody had been suspicious of everybody else.
FLETCHER: Some of us were firm believers that it had to be an outsider.
– ACT I, lines 102-111
MS. JACKSON: What in the name of Christ is going on?
KOKOMO: You didn't tell me we were doing it.
GREY GOOSE: He didn't tell me either.
FLETCHER: I thought you knew. I thought you started the whole thing.
GREY GOOSE: I made a mistake.
FLETCHER: I wasn't even informed about the dishwashing machine.
MS. JACKSON: Somebody please tell me what's going on!
GREY GOOSE: Alright.
FLETCHER: Calm down, Mother.
KOKOMO: Please, Ms. Jackson.
– ACT II, lines 421-430
LUKE: What's the difference between the two?
MS. JACKSON: Bounty families are descendant from the original Bounty mutineers, who settled on Pitcairn Island-
FLETCHER: With their Tahitian consorts. I'm sorry. I meant their Tahitian wives. And their Tahitian slaves. I mean, their male Tahitian friends.
MS. JACKSON: The Pitcairner families are descendant-
FLETCHER: From three adventurers - to be more precise, from two ack-willy whalers and a soldier-of-fortune.
LUKE: That's a ridgy-didge pedigree. Too right!
FLETCHER: It gets better. Being a direct descendant of my namesake, Fletcher Christian, the illustrious chief of the mutiny on the Bounty, I am therefore descendant from the ancient rulers of the Isle of Man.
LUKE: A reg'lar Pommy!
FLETCHER: My father's mother was a Quintal. That means half of him is descendant from a drunken scoundrel who set his ship on fire, drove his wife to suicide, and threatened to kill the entire island population. That's not the side of the story we like to tell. We prefer the story of how John Jackson turned to Christianity and taught his children to read and write. Jackson, I'll have you know, was a Christian before he became a Jackson. He changed his name the moment the British rediscovered the island. My mother admires his cowardice so much, she did the same thing.
– ACT I, lines 93-101
(ALICE exits.)
KOKOMO: Yet again, I'm left holding the wet, dirty towels. Not to worry. It's alright. I don't mind. In truth, if I could spend the rest of my life cleaning up after Fletcher Christian, I would be a very happy woman. Even if that is silly and backwards, that's how I feel. I would never phrase it like that to anybody; I'm not crazy. I'd make him take out the garbage and all that. Alice is right. It's high time I told him how much he makes my heart beat. I could turn it into a joke if it looks like he's uncomfortable. That would be dreadful. What kind of a joke would it be? I need a heart transplant? That's not funny. What am I going to do?
A story book full of short fiction stories. An interesting bedtime mystery. A fairy tale. Science fiction romance. Adult life. Uninspiring gay fiction. Horror.
Grandmother folded her hands. "St. Barbara was a beautiful Christian - a virgin. Surrounded by pagans, she rebuffed her suitors. Despite that, her father - who was also pagan - decided to lock her in a tower. He didn't want anybody to see her except for him.
Indiana came first with Olympia. She said Albert had to work. Mother was suspicious. "On Christmas Eve?" It was still early. When Albert arrived, he hardly spoke to his wife. I wonder if you noticed.
I wondered if she were right. Was it possible for there to be a difference between us? Were our generations so far apart? Were we not experiencing the same systems? Socialism, communism, capitalism, Christianity - were they not as powerful now as they ever were? Perhaps the influence was being overshadowed - by what? Our technologies were trite; our movements, nonexistent. What was my generation doing? Treading water? I took a puff of marijuana. It didn't matter. It was getting late.
We were in Austria. It was Christmas Eve. Olympia was in her baby bouncer. She was by the fireplace. She was having a great time. We were caressing her. I remember. It was Grandmother's house.
Grandmother shook her head. "There was yet another way. Do you see how desperate girls were when I was young? On the feast of St. Lucia, a girl could take a bite from an apple. If she took a bite every day, making sure she took the last one on Christmas Eve, she could see her future husband.
St. Sebastian was a member of the Roman Emperor's praetorian guard who had the audacity to teach Christian values while on the job. I think active duty American military men and women who don't vote or who don't publicly express a political opinion because of the uniform are either being idiotic or are being cowed by the threat of punishment from a superior. Either way, they're eunuchs. My purpose in creating the St. Sebastian Series is to put the flesh and face of the true soldier front and center. The good soldier puts his mission ahead of himself. He often ends up dead. The true soldier knows a bad mission when he sees one and he isn't afraid to say it. Saint Sebastian was not a cow, despite what clever people would have you believe. Saint Sebastian is a patron saint for all protestors who face the arrows of the mob for speaking out.
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Michal's exporting Polish art...is he brainsick?
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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