To me, the vagina is a symbol of equality and acceptance. In our modern age, we may not all have passed through one, but the door is always open - to everything, for better or for worse. I want to protect that idea. I want others to open themselves up to the needs of others. I want them to listen.
I'm learning how to listen to women - even if sometimes they say terrible things. I'd like to give everyone a chance to do the same.
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 continue the fight for openness and equality, a fight that I'm taking 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 26: The "English" German
Janina describes the conflict between her brother, who had picked out a well-appointed farmhouse for the family to settle in, and the German proprietor whose chief interests lay in South Africa and who claimed English citizenship as a way to retain control over the property.
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...
In June of 2011 I arrived in Europe for what I hoped would be a great adventure; my only concrete plan, to visit Croatia. By September I had driven 6,000 miles and visited 12 different countries, all with a woman I met on the first Friday of my trip.
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.
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.
Do unto others as you would have done unto you. But how to judge what we would want done to us if we've never been in somebody else's shoes? If we've never been abandoned by our mother, how do we treat somebody who has? Somebody who seems to constantly suffer the repurcussions of it? Margo and I had 46 days and 6,000 miles to try on each other's shoes. We had one car and one tent in which to hear each other's words. We learned to cooperate. We started learning how to listen.
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: Deep Love Quotes
Love and hope. I say the words and I still wonder what it means.
I think of all the images, the poems, the quotes, the songs, the stories. The symbols.
I think of my own work, the Fiction Corpus, which I tested and analyzed because I too wanted to know what it was about. Sure enough, the words love and hope were two of the most frequent words I had used.
Clearly love and hope are a potent fuel. They've driven many a work of art. The've helped create many beautiful things. Maybe that's it.
Pronunciation of Deep Love Quotes
I have yet to publish a pronunciation for the words "deep love quotes."
Video of me pronouncing "deep love quotes."
Definition of Deep Love Quotes
I have yet to publish the definition of Deep Love Quotes.
I'm sure it won't take too long.
References for deep love quotes
I have yet to find good references for Deep Love Quotes
Use of Love in Michal's FictionCorpus
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 #4881
how do i deal with a girl like harley. shes afraid to be touched. she wont let me hold her hand. how can a man love a girl like that.
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.
Like the Americans in space - oh, you don't understand: my dearest child, you have been sheltered! Your grandfather has prepared you for greatness. He doesn't know how great you can be. He thinks you will rule Centropolis. But you are meant for glory, not riches. If you rule, you will rule terribly. But if you fight, you will gain glory! I am calling for war, my child! Your grandfather is a coward. He wants nothing more than for you to preserve the status quo - but you would place us all in danger. Julius would move against you. He waits for your grandfather's death. He knows that once your grandfather dies, he will have a chance to seize power, and, my child, if you do nothing, he will take it away from you. Preserve yourself! Not for your own sake, but for your beloved mother's.
None of this would have mattered, of course, if safety guidelines had been appropriate: there was no need for bottled air on Earth: all you needed was a face mask with a filter! But people were just stupid! They needed to wear fancy bottles like the rich people on Mars. They had to be just like the Martians! They convinced themselves it was necessary! The bottled air industry helped, of course, but people did it to themselves! They were maniacs! It was, by far, the worst case of collective craziness in history: far worse than Tulip Mania, which only lasted a generation! This mania kept going: passing from father to son, mother-in-law to daughter-in-law: each one equally convinced that air bottles were absolutely indispensable. Finally, someone had to make it law: somebody somewhere in some treaty made it international law: every mask had to be attached (on purchase) to a bottle by a licensed mask and bottle distributor - just like on Mars, where it actually mattered: where your life depended on it. What crazy person made that happen? What greed was behind it? Nobody knew, and few people cared. The only real solution to this problem was cleaner air.
When my parents were young, the government in Warsaw told everyone that Americans were dropping potato bugs onto Poland. Supposedly, they were dropping them from planes. Nobody believed it. People thought it was some kind of strange propaganda: why would Americans drop potato bugs on Poland? Nevertheless, the potato bugs were there. People admired their beautiful colors. "What beautiful eggs," they said. Then, the eggs hatched. People didn't realize these were potato bugs. Before long, the potatoes were gone; people blamed America. The government in Warsaw was safe.
When I close my eyes, my mind is spinning: revolving: eating itself. I see a giant pinwheel in space - FUX PINWHEEL. A galaxy! People spinning together; people spinning apart - the center: together; the edge: apart. People spinning away! People spinning together! The nation! A crucible! Fire of life! The blast furnace of war! The slag! Fumes! People in the fumes! People in the bloom! The bloom! Nation! Blessed nation!
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.
She was, and remains, a woman of modest beauty. Her soul's modesty flows naturally into her body and her mind. Therefore I never suspected her innocence; it is for this reason that I have come to love her. Indeed, the circumstances of this early acquaintance involved a strange kind of love; for in those days, I was uncommonly infatuated, not with her person, or her body for that matter, but strangely enough, with her hair. I simply envied it; from every angle, under every light, with every cut she ever possessed from short to long, I was keenly aware of its brilliance. I wish I could objectively say it was exceptional, but my excitement was largely due to my fascination with the color burgundy.
We were driving up the Allée du Bord de l'Eau, having turned, I presume, from Anatole Boulevard. Perhaps Nike was looking across the river at something - I don't know. At any rate, it was nighttime and very dark - there was no moon - and yet, I could see Nike's face very clearly. Perhaps a glare from the lights of the console: I couldn't see them from where I was, but, perhaps, owing to Nike's hunched-over position (which he would only relax when he was looking down his nose, at which point, he was leaning back in his chair - but only briefly, as then he would lean forward again), with his body thus contracted, the lights from the console may have been reflecting off his face, concentrating under his brow - but, I suppose, it may have been a reflection from the dashboard, angled as it was towards the driver, or maybe a combination thereof - regardless, there was a distinct glare on his face, and, hollowing out his features, he looked like the devil's minion, or, at least, someone trapped in hell: either a weary traveler misled, or a duty-bound man who was chafing against the fiber of his will.
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!
Sometimes I felt I was the only person he was really mocking. As long as he neglected me, of course he was not mine; he was unwilling to amuse me alone and this was the seed of my jealousy. When his stories would offer a sober judgment, breaking the spell of amusement, I would not distinguish his honesty, the proof that he was never simply pandering to taste, that he was perfectly aware of the things he was doing, the effect he had, the minds he swayed.
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.
Dorothea clenched her jaw. "Well?" she asked. "Do I have an answer?" Her son stared blankly. She continued, "I understand you have feelings for her. I'm not asking you never to see her again. I simply want you to give me your assurance that you won't marry her."
The man replied, "I shall, great father. I swear it by the Bhag Mithra." The champion of the west slew his king. He gathered the swords together. He lifted them. Turning to the people, he proclaimed, "I am Gog. Take the bodies of my family. Bury them in the banks of the Danu [i.e., the nearest river, probably the Dnieper]. Prepare for a long journey."
It wasn't a man. It was a woman with lizard's eyes. Her course, brown hair was cut short. Her lower lip was thick. Gog took another step. The woman jerked her small, round chin. She braced herself.
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.
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: (to LESBIAN) Would you like some tea?
LESBIAN: That would be lovely.
MS. JACKSON: Come with me. How about you, dear?
ALICE: No, thanks.
MS. JACKSON: Are you sure?
ALICE: I'm fine.
– ACT I, lines 433-438
LESBIAN: Why?
MS. JACKSON: My lips are on fire.
LESBIAN: Let me douse them.
MS. JACKSON: Not here: somebody could see us.
LESBIAN: Where?
MS. JACKSON: I know a place.
LESBIAN: What about the tea?
MS. JACKSON: Forget the tea.
LESBIAN: Adieu, sweet porcelain. I trade thee for a better cup.
MS. JACKSON: Come on!
– ACT I, lines 535-544
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.
A story book full of short fiction stories. An interesting bedtime mystery. A fairy tale. Science fiction romance. Adult life. Uninspiring gay fiction. Horror.
Orbitz Número Dos turned to Orbitz Number One. He ignored the look of confusion in his eyes. "I'm the reason I'm under surveillance," he said. "I've become a Wiki-en, haven't I?" He turned to Orbitz Nombre Trois. Orbitz Nombre Trois didn't react. "Have I fallen in love with the girl?" asked Orbitz Número Dos.
"Hungarians don't fast from meat on Christmas Eve," said Indiana. "It is the opposite. We take all day to make sausage - with garlic and paprika. The color is my favorite. It is like that wood - what do you call it?" She stroked the timber of the mantel. She whispered, "Darker than this." She turned towards the baseboard. She smiled. She reached to touch it. She didn't see the bucket of water. The cherry branch sticking out of it dropped to the floor. Grandmother gasped. Mother shook her head.
"I'm not sure I know the answer to that," said Orbitz Número Dos.
"What do you mean?"
"He means you should be asking me." It was a third Orbitz. He stepped through the hatch.
"Right on time," said Orbitz Número Dos. Orbitz Number One stared at the image of himself as an old man. His body looked tired and tested. His face had more scars on it than the other one.
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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Michal is exporting art from Poland...is he touched?
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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