Help Treat Antisocial Personality Disorder With Art

Strength and dignity are her clothing...

Proverbs 31:25

Author's Note: I have been enjoined from sharing the details of my true romance adventure until such time that the other party is prepared to present her perspective on the affair arrangement...

Europe, the summer of 2011. Twelve countries. 46 days. One car. One tent. One man. One woman he's just met.

As an artist, from the beginning of my adult career, my work had been devoted to the problem of body acceptance, a goal that I would later learn was shared by a whole community of people called naturists, a humble portion of which I discovered residing in Poland, a country whose cultural conservatism does not lend itself readily to forward thinking. One of those forward-thinking Polish naturists happened to be Margo.

Though I was born in Europe, I had been brought up from a young age in America, living in states as diverse as Nebraska, Ohio and Connecticut. I was taught American values and saw reality from an American perspective. She was born and raised in a village in Poland. She went to work in the nearest town. The nearest city seemed like the center of the world. The American perspective was not something she was ever planning to see.

There were times during our trip when I thought there might not be a happy ending. There were times when disaster was close and I wondered whether I hadn't made a mistake. I wondered whether fear, anger or sadness might triumph and one of us would have to finished the journey alone. Though I dangled from the cliffs of Normady I was saved. Though the lights went out I rode on. Though I ran the tires down to the wire I was okay. We drove home in one piece. We came home happy. We had started the process of learning how to listen and the sound of it was beautiful. We could be sure that we were ready to conquer the devils that abuse us no matter how long it would take.

One of Margo's pictures from our trip across Europe. — 6,000 miles across Europe with a complete stranger
**Day 12**
7/31/2011
⚔ 11༛♊²⁵/₂₄♀
Camping Trenta
Trenta, Slovenia
THE DISAPPEARING WOMAN, THE DISAPPEARING MAN...
a collection of modern art prints and posters
During our trip across Europe, Margo very bravely opened up to me and to the camera. It was a difficult thing to do considering the scars that she carries. I wanted to share with the world her often joyful, often sad, often angry but always liberating experience except that the Internet is full of pictures of naked women and men and full of trolls who abuse them.
I realized that what I really need to point out is not the openness that Margo and I cultivated between ourselves, but the darkness that continues to surround us. When I censor nudity, I do so in a way that does not compromise the integrity of the human body. In censoring the photographs that Margo and I took during our trip, I was quick to notice that in those pictures where Margo was at her most open, at her most unguarded and most relaxed, in a word, when she was herself and basking in the sun I was forced to blacken her completely.
Why does our society drive people into darkness? Why can we not accept ourselves as we are? Why can we not accept our bodies? Have we truly become eunuchs? Or are we capable of defying the sickness that pits us against each other? Together we could conquer the devils that abuse us.
Whether you enjoy being nude or not, whether you've been photographed nude or not, but especially if, for you, like for Margo, it's something you never thought you would do, consider submitting your own photograph to be published in a censored manner as a form of protest against the ubiquitous presence of the human body on the internet, naked or not, that is published and duplicated ad infinitum without context and without regard for the identity or the needs of the individual being depicted.

Previous Image — 6,000 miles across Europe with a complete stranger
**Day 12**
7/31/2011
⚔ 11༛♊²⁵/₂₄♀
Camping Trenta
Trenta, Slovenia
THE DISAPPEARING WOMAN, THE DISAPPEARING MAN...
a collection of modern art prints and posters
During our trip across Europe, Margo very bravely opened up to me and to the camera. It was a difficult thing to do considering the scars that she carries. I wanted to share with the world her often joyful, often sad, often angry but always liberating experience except that the Internet is full of pictures of naked women and men and full of trolls who abuse them.
I realized that what I really need to point out is not the openness that Margo and I cultivated between ourselves, but the darkness that continues to surround us. When I censor nudity, I do so in a way that does not compromise the integrity of the human body. In censoring the photographs that Margo and I took during our trip, I was quick to notice that in those pictures where Margo was at her most open, at her most unguarded and most relaxed, in a word, when she was herself and basking in the sun I was forced to blacken her completely.
Why does our society drive people into darkness? Why can we not accept ourselves as we are? Why can we not accept our bodies? Have we truly become eunuchs? Or are we capable of defying the sickness that pits us against each other? Together we could conquer the devils that abuse us.
Whether you enjoy being nude or not, whether you've been photographed nude or not, but especially if, for you, like for Margo, it's something you never thought you would do, consider submitting your own photograph to be published in a censored manner as a form of protest against the ubiquitous presence of the human body on the internet, naked or not, that is published and duplicated ad infinitum without context and without regard for the identity or the needs of the individual being depicted.

Definition of Fiction And Nonfiction

I have yet to publish the definition of Fiction And Nonfiction.

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

References for fiction and nonfiction

I have yet to find good references for Fiction And Nonfiction

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.

If you're wondering...

How do I use this?

Just click on a title to see examples of "fiction" from a particular work. You'll stay on the same spot on the page, only the Table of Contents will disappear. To get back to the Table of Contents just click next to the image of the Bare Bottom imprint where it says "Back to Samples of Fiction: Table of Contents."“And...?”

In the case of common words, a Table of Frequency and a Table of Collocation provide numerical information about how many times a word appears in its original or modified form and with which words. It can help to give you an idea of how common words are used and in what contexts. Find them in the "Common Words of English" part of the Education section.“Ok.”

Why a Fiction Corpus?

The popular understanding of the word "fiction" and its complement "non-fiction" is a reflection of the cultural influence of a classification system. The Dewey Decimal System is responsible for separating "fiction" from all other work and categorizing it by author's name. This has influenced the popular idea of fiction as a narrative that tends to be "untrue" and the product of an individual's fantasy, a bias compounded by modern art's century-long obsession with abstraction, surrealism and self-expression.“So...?”

My idea of fiction rests on the idea that art doesn't have to be factual to be a true reflection of our existence. Adam and Eve didn't have to exist as two individuals 700 generations ago for them to be true portraits of two human beings trying to work together.“And...?”

The Bible is a Fiction Corpus. It is a body of writing that isn't overly concerned with facts and yet its words carry weight. It was written by many different authors living in different places with different audiences in mind, yet everyone gleans something from it.“Right...”

In preparing my fiction corpus, I have striven to see the world through the eyes of others. Through the eyes of my Adams and Eves I hope that you too will glean some truth about our existence. At the very least you will learn some more about how one man can use the English language.“Ok.”

Who are you, Michal?

I'm just a guy who makes art. And if you're interested in making a solid investment in an aesthetic that supports our present and future welfare, then I will help you look for something that you can buy.“How...?”

Everybody makes. Everybody sells. Some people know how to protect their interests. Some better than others. Few people know how to listen. Listening to somebody means considering their interests as if they were your own. Going out and doing something to satisfy another person's interest is how we build a strong economy. Without a strong economy, democracy collapses.“And...?”

Buying 4Occupy is buying for democracy. Don't give your money to somebody who's ruining it. There's no such thing as cheap democracy, quick democracy, or easy democracy. There's good, solid, complete democracy and the tyranny of feudalism. Let's not mix the two. Let's not buy everything on the cheap. Let's not create another tyrant and enslave ourselves because it was easier not to think about what we were doing. Let's protect our interests. Let's listen.“Ok.”

Who's really behind this site?

Have you ever been to one of those post-it-yourself retail websites where there's a really attractive top-seller ready to give you tips on how you can be a top-seller too?“Uh...”

Have you ever been to a "job" interview where you sit in a line, walk through one door, get hired as a contractor and walk out another door, so that the other applicants don't realize that everyone's getting "hired" to work in the same market?“Maybe...”

The internet is full of people who are ready to exploit your ignorance. They are people who want to make money at the expense of our economy. They are cheats.“And...?”

I, Michal, am behind this site. Not some fat plutocrat exploiting my image. I like to do things the right way. I like to work with people who take the time to do things right.“Why...?”

I used to work for a company that didn't do things the right way. My labor was exploited because of mismanagement. That company was the United States Postal Service, an independent agency of the United States Government that is ultimately controlled by Congress. I'm mad because if the Federal Government can exploit labor, who is going to stop every other cheat from doing it?“Labor Unions...?”

Don't say labor unions. I went to my labor union and they did nothing. They ignored me because labor unions aren't democracies. Holding a free and fair election for a "representative" once in a blue moon does not equal people ruling. Democracy means open government. It means we the public need to accept the hard work. It's the only way to secure liberty and equality.“Ok.”

What's the difference between use and usage?

Definition-wise, not much. But the -age suffix is ultimately French in origin and with most things French, at least in American eyes, the immediate thought is that of something precious and arcane whose value should be judged very carefully. This is in contrast to the word France, which is associated with a beautiful place. Thus people in France or from France are beautiful, warm, kind people. Generous even. Unlike French people who suck. Unless you're frenching, in which case you're only sometimes sucking.“And...?”

Along those lines, usage means you're in bed. Use means you're just heavy petting. Also notice that common people, like common words, get used...whereas "proper" things make "appearances." Whether or not you are being exploited is a different story. Exploitation is what happens when somebody uses you or your property without listening to you. Listening is what happens when you consider another person's needs as if they were your own. You don't have to satisfy those needs. All you need to do is consider them. So many of us can't even do that.“So...?”

Help stop exploitation. Buy 4occupy. Buy a better world. Whether or not you feel you can afford to buy art, consider joining my protest. I want to guarantee every working man and every working mother on this planet a 15-day universal holiday. But I can't. Only we can do that. We have to work together. We have to accept the idea that everyone deserves time for himself and we need to build that time into a new kind of calendar. We have to give peace it's own day. We have to make love something you can't avoid. We have to make even the most miserly cold-hearted capitalist among us say that he cashed his check on Love Your Neighbor Day. There won't be any other way to say it once the Acceptance Calendar is widely adopted.“Ok.”

Back to Samples of Fiction: Table of Contents

Samples of Fiction from Death to McDonalds

An aerial view of Dodger Stadium in the foreground, with an imaginary partially submerged Los Angeles behind — A story bible for a comic book series set in a post climate-change California narrated by eight characters who live through a natural disaster that sinks Los Angeles and triggers a war with an expansionist Mexican government covertly supported by China.

Frame #538

lesley is a nice guy. which means hes probably an asshole. like chase. jenny had a thing for him too. until i showed her the pictures.

Sprint "Iphone" Case

31 July, 8:12 PM

Frame #298

jayce - i called the number. its definitely not a telemarketer. a man i could understand picked up. well have expedia trace it tomorrow.

Sprint "Iphone" Case

28 July, 6:40 PM

Frame #399

that stupid franchisee. he registers his prepaid numbers before he sells them. he obviously works for the mob.

Sprint "Iphone" Case

29 July, 4:49 PM

Back to Samples of Story Writing: Table of Contents

Samples of Story Writing from The Gospel of Jesus H.

A picture of the planet Mars — An experimental science fiction Christology that makes Jesus the hard boiled narrator of his own early years on a bizarro earth made dark by volcanic ash and informally ruled by a man from Mars who sells bottled air.

Personal design was key. A Capitalist would spend, at most, an hour for grooming, but his or her family might take an average of three hours for an average occasion, never less than two, and five at most (although seven was not unheard of - especially if Guderians were involved). The way you could tell was by counting the difference between a Capitalist's arrival and his or her family's. No Capitalist would ever wait for his or her family, no matter how quick they be and even if that family were his or her greatest pride. It was a great sign of disrespect among Capitalists if one of their kind were suddenly to arrive with his or her family. What would they do? Talk business? Look stupid? It was inconceivable. Families were always late in coming.

– Verse 20 from the chapter called Childhood

Perhaps someday that city will grow to the very edges of the Hellas plain, measuring the whole two thousand kilometers of the basin's diameter. It would be the greatest city in the solar system. Or, perhaps, the city will be completely abandoned, once the hydrosphere threatens it with flooding. It may depend on what you choose to do, my child. The future of Centropolis hangs in the balance - there is no doubt about it. The city's founders never imagined a day when the atmosphere would reach one thousand millibars, and yet, your great-great-grandfather, Hitler Panzer-Tank, was the first governor to go outside in the light of day without his suit and breathe normally with an oxygen tank.

– Verse 10 from the chapter called Childhood

The jackets were white; the trousers, blood red. Cosmonauts of St. Benedict wore a yellow papal sash, but even this was conservative. Cyan, yellow, and magenta were the colors of the day - owing to their use in color photography, of course - not a nineteenth century invention, but close enough.

– Verse 14 from the chapter called Childhood

Back to Samples of Story Writing: Table of Contents

Samples of Story Writing from Sex for Children

A drawing of a man between a woman's legs in front of another man in a hospital bed — A literature book narrated by a pair of siblings on either side of the Atlantic whose profoundly weird sexual experiences pose a serious challenge to their traditional understanding of mathematicians, marriage, gay young men and God.

I asked her to bring this up casually in conversation, so that I could elaborate on the compliment, ever so innocently - but she was afraid to do it, owing to her quality of English, which was still not very good; but she agreed and after a bit of rehearsal we met with Macy on the weekend. Once we were settled down at a certain restaurant, I learned that Macy was from Boston, that he was acquainted with you, having met you our freshman year, and that he was here in Austria for the summer for no other reason but that he wanted some culture - that, and the fact that his parents had met here in Vienna in nineteen seventy-two and had fallen madly in love.

– Title 1, Regarding Peaches and Bananas, Part 2, Section 4, Meeting a Man in Austria, Paragraph 3

When I left the bathroom and dressed, a bizarre experience (that clearly should have given me forewarning) was not enough to break this innocent trance. Luke was late, and my hair still wet. I could not find a hairdryer, so I went down the hall to the next wing, looking for a students' bathroom, hoping I could find something to use. All I found was a hand dryer wall unit - not the most suitable device for drying one's hair. But I had to use it.

– Title 1, Regarding Peaches and Bananas, Part 2, Section 3, Ambushing a Man, Paragraph 1

I know that I've always been playful, which is something that a modest person does not usually reveal until well acquainted with another. Perhaps it was the misguided intimacy - the forceful breach of inhibition - that tightened and then relaxed our excited bodies. I suppose not everyone enjoys being playful, but I believe that boy was thrilled, and perhaps he, thinking me a student, sincerely hoped for another, less ephemeral encounter. But I knew it would not happen, and he, poor fool, may have dreamt of it last night. I certainly have had dreams on less hopeful prospects. How odd it is, how strangely odd, that the basis for romance and friendship must seem so fantastically random, and the requirements which permit these things to blossom, the structure of tastes and considerations, being so irrationally determined, or else so deliberately particular, how odd indeed that any relationship take strong root and thrive at all.

– Title 1, Regarding Peaches and Bananas, Part 2, Section 3, Ambushing a Man, Paragraph 3

Back to Samples of Story Writing: Table of Contents

Samples of Story Writing from Tsiga Tsiga Tsiga

Bullets whizzing by a statue of Nikola Tesla — A collection of stories featuring a sexy Parisian ghost, a spooky Moon base full of vagina-faced aliens, a policeman with an Irish name, a truck full of watermelons, a flautist, and a man who has to see another man about a diseased horse.

She was alone-in the Bois de Boulogne-at night-why? Walking with purpose-where was she going? For what? If a prostitute, why here? Was she lost? Her first night on the job? Ridiculous. On a midnight stroll, why the wimple? A nun? Heaven forbid.

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

"What's it like? Do people watch?"

"Not necessarily, but most of the time."

"I don't think I could take it."

"It's not for everybody. I wonder where else to send you. Don't go to one of those American bars: they'll rip your pants off. They make you buy champagne. You end up shitting money for nothing."

"What about the street?"

– from “Paris Is For Rapists, Too,” a ghost story featuring not-so-beautiful people

"How does that happen?"

"I'm not sure. It was sexy. She must be a hooker."

"Dressed like a nun?"

"I have to go."

"What do I do?"

– from “Paris Is For Rapists, Too,” a ghost story featuring an interesting ode to human anatomy

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Samples of Story Writing from Sorry Ms. Jackson

Chiseled letters from an ancient stone tablet hanging on a wall — A real play. With drama in it. Talk fast. It takes two hours. Set in a guest house. In a small community. After a murder. Lots of suspicion. The characters learn to listen to each other. It's funny.

GREY GOOSE: Look, woman: I'm giving you one last chance. Did you rat me out to the cops or not?

MS. JACKSON: I won't say.

GREY GOOSE: I deserve to be answered.

MS. JACKSON: A man deserves only three things: honesty, gratitude, and remorse. He does not deserve to be answered.

GREY GOOSE: This is the thanks I get after all these years of marriage?

MS. JACKSON: It was your pleasure to be my husband.

GREY GOOSE: The worst of penalties was once reserved for such obstinacy.

MS. JACKSON: Not for treason?

GREY GOOSE: There are worse things than being hanged.

MS. JACKSON: Such as?

– ACT I, lines 311-320

(GREY GOOSE enters unseen.)

KOKOMO: The CIA? It was probably Fletcher: naughty boy. As if my heart were not enough, he had to go and steal himself another pincushion. Has he tired of needling mine? Has it grown so soft? Am I a red guava rotting on the stem? Oh, pick me, Fletcher Christian! Pick me! Before I start pouring out my insides!

– ACT I, lines 226-226

(KOKOMO exits.)

GREY GOOSE: Excellent! The day of reckoning has come at last. For too long now, the crimes of my distant past have tarried and o'er me their shadows cast. Restitution's been made, Heavenly King! Grant that my wife be open to forgive a reformed man, who only wants to live in his own home - not like a fugitive on an island full of gossiping cows, who whisper lies, make innuendo, roll their eyes and giggle nonsense, and yet dole out their judgments as if they were a whole judge and jury. Let them bear witness that no woman will run me out of my own home - even if I have to burn it down!

– ACT I, lines 251-251

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Samples of Story Writing from Miscellaneous Dingbats

The title of the book at the end of a string of miscellaneous dingbats — A story book full of short fiction stories. An interesting bedtime mystery. A fairy tale. Science fiction romance. Adult life. Uninspiring gay fiction. Horror.

The day was bright when I left Moscow. I was in such a cheerful mood I had to stop myself from smiling. People were always telling me always to smile. People who never smile themselves. As if there's nothing wrong with a black man who's smiling. A black man who's always smiling looks like a fool like anybody else. I was foolish enough just doing what I was doing. I had to keep my face quiet. The entire bus ride I stared at my reflection in the window. I wanted to look confident without seeming too proud.

– from “A Black Man in Moscow,” an inspirational story that describes life as we know it, though hopefully it can change

I saw Barack the other day. He looked like he was doing better. The last time I saw him his body was twitching so badly he couldn't walk. His body is still twitching but not as much. He can get around with a cane. His speech is still slurred.

– from “A Black Man in Moscow,” an inspirational story that isn't factual and yet is true, since the details are fictional

I stayed at the dacha until spring. I kept myself busy with Tolstoi and a translation I was working on. I tried without success to get a job in St. Petersburg. A friend of mine had a contact at the Education Ministry. I told him I was willing to go anywhere.

– from “A Black Man in Moscow,” an inspirational story inspired by somebody's real life, though the details are fictional