Help Prevent Rape 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...

On the second to last weekend of June, 2011, I had joined my fellow naturists at a gathering of the Naturist Society in rural Pennsylvania. The next day I left on a flight for Europe. By the end of the week I had unexpectedly met another naturist, a woman, who was destined to accompany me on a tour of Europe's great naturist resorts.

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.

I considered myself young and able, and being American I often convinced myself I was more than able. She didn't feel quite so young. Having grown up in Poland, what was and is still considered by many to be a poor country, she had the added burden of not only being disadvantaged but having it held against her. The difference became palpable when I realized I couldn't even properly translate into Polish the very American word, "opportunity." A chance? Sure. An occasion? Why not? An opportunity? Not in the book.

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 32**
8/20/2011
⛹ 1༜♊²⁵/₂₄♀
Camping Omaha Beach
Vierville Sur Mer, France
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 32**
8/20/2011
⛹ 1༜♊²⁵/₂₄♀
Camping Omaha Beach
Vierville Sur Mer, France
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.

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 #425

i went back to alhambra. i tagged the ex.wifes car. expedia's following the signal. if she goes anywhere near santa ana weve got the bastard.

Sprint "Iphone" Case

30 July, 10:35 AM

Frame #219

im at the coffee shop. i better get the straight talk. none of this territorial garbage. we dont need to be stepping on each others toes.

Sprint "Iphone" Case

28 July, 9:30 AM

Frame #46

jcpenney has yet to install the espn application on her phone.

Sprint "Iphone" Case

26 July, 11:46 AM

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.

"Fake" hand-tinted photographs were everywhere: a whole system of underground painters worked day and night to fake old painting. Most of the middle class had "fakes," but if you were a Capitalist - or from a Capitalist family - and you possessed a "fake," you were liable to be disgraced. Your grandmother once happened to find a "fake" in her collection; it caused a great scandal. It even made the front-page news on a day when thirty Union soldiers from France were killed in a terrorist attack on Bremen's Town Hall. The shame of the whole affair was tempered somewhat by the fact that your grandmother made the announcement herself, took full responsibility for the outrageous tragedy, and refused, out of sheer kindness, to identify the seller, who, being a rich and respectable and therefore presumably innocent young man, had been duped, according to Madame Panzer-Tank's English-language publicists, by some terribly ambitious (and yet, terribly talented) underground and (as yet) underappreciated artist.

– Verse 16 from the chapter called Childhood

Now as your grandfather has no doubt told you, Abrams Tank was the first Panzer-Tank on Mars. He brought with him a suit (of course) and a whole mining company. His mining company, Panzer-Tank Mining, started the very first successful iron mine on Mars. Abrams Tank was very successful. After his son took over the mine, he started a very successful glass factory: Glass Panzer-Tank Style. It made very good Martian glass. This led to a construction company: Panzer-Tank Construction. At the age of seventy-five, Abrams Tank built the Glass Pyramid which now marks the center of Centropolis. His son became the first governor of Mars.

– Verse 4 from the chapter called Childhood

For the longest time, I never shared my voices. But I shared them with your mother. She was kind to me. I loved her. FUCK MOTHER! Stop! Help me, child. You are like your mother. I know it. You are kind. You are loving. You are Zoe: life! Like your mother: your mother was life! Your grandfather didn't know that. He didn't know his daughter was life. He abandoned her. He left her on Earth. I left her on Earth. All of us did. We went to Mars. For what? For the spoils of war. No: not me - not us: not the brigade. No, the brigade was corrupt. The brigade was death. The knighthood: that was good. The knights: we went there for God. We killed men, but we killed them for God, not for ourselves. We were good men. Stalin: he was good. He was not a knight, but he was good. He was my cousin. He was your father's cousin. He is alive! You must find him. He is with Julius! At the volcano!

– Verse 7 from the chapter called Invocation

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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.

Four years ago (you shall remember) I was in Austria (the beloved Österreich! may she grow in peace!) visiting our mother's cousin, whose daughter was able to provide me with an almost constant companionship. One Sunday, we went drinking in a rather nice section of Vienna, one which I had not frequently visited, and to which we had come with the purpose of sight-seeing, only to be swayed from our plan by the coming dusk, and by a flyer we picked up advertising a particularly rewarding drink special.

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

The bathroom was much less filthy, and this, I thought, could only mean one thing: Luke probably had not been taking advantage of it - but I'm sure that you could think of other, equally plausible theories. Enough about Luke; I refrained from cleaning his bathroom - let's leave it at that. Letting the shower run, I washed out my mouth and sat down on the toilet.

– Title 1, Regarding Peaches and Bananas, Part 2, Section 2, Letting It Steam, Paragraph 2, Clauses 1-3

But I have reached this conclusion after years of deliberate thought; any emotion that otherwise might have affected my judgment has been virtually extinguished - from the very moment I began to tackle the problem philosophically.

– Title 1, Regarding Peaches and Bananas, Part 1, Section 1, Introduction, Paragraph 2, Clauses 5-6

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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.

Nike was close. I could feel him holding his breath, listening for footfalls.

– from “Paris Is For Rapists, Too,” a ghost story featuring a desperate man

"Good point. It's a freak show every way around. I'm waiting for the transmidgets to pop out."

"This guy found somebody."

"She's doesn't look too bad. I want to see the customer. I wanna make sure he deserves it."

"Is he gay?"

"He's the straightest man in the world."

"He wants ass."

"His wife doesn't treat him well."

"It's hard for guys who want a girl for anal."

"You need to know where to look."

"Where do you go?"

– from “Paris Is For Rapists, Too,” a ghost story featuring a drug-user

I decided, no matter what occurred-should the windows rattle, should the latches snap, should metal bend, should the doors twist off their hinges, I would not be afraid.

– from “Paris Is For Rapists, Too,” a ghost story featuring a cloak

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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: Are you saying you didn't squeal to the Aussies?

MS. JACKSON: I'm saying I didn't have to.

GREY GOOSE: Swear to me that you said nothing.

MS. JACKSON: I won't.

GREY GOOSE: Swear to it.

MS. JACKSON: No.

GREY GOOSE: Swear on the Holy Book.

MS. JACKSON: There will be no such swearing in my house.

GREY GOOSE: My house, woman! My house!

MS. JACKSON: Not anymore, you mangy, little womanizing can't-keep-his-hands-off-my-cook's-bottom descendent of a drunken, wife-beating man-whore!

– ACT I, lines 271-280

LESBIAN: The overcoat?

FLETCHER: The penis.

LESBIAN: I couldn't see. It was too dark.

FLETCHER: You mean you didn't look.

LESBIAN: I looked.

LUKE: You mean you didn't have a chance to taste it.

MS. JACKSON: Oh, my God!

FLETCHER: What?

MS. JACKSON: It's gone! My heirloom pincushion is gone!

– ACT I, lines 190-198

FLETCHER: I'm glad you liked it.

LESBIAN: We happened to see your father looking down on us the whole time from a cliff.

FLETCHER: What do you mean?

LESBIAN: He was staring at us the entire morning from a cliff. I thought he was going to jump.

FLETCHER: He was just standing there?

LESBIAN: He was just standing there.

LUKE: I went up to him. He was only watching us bathe.

ALICE: I hope he liked it.

FLETCHER: Don't mind him. My father's a bit crazy. One time, I woke up in the middle of the night. It was about three in the morning. I saw him standing in front of a pine tree, trying to decide whether or not he should chop it down. This was three in the morning. There was absolutely no reason for him to chop it down. It was really quite bizarre.

– ACT I, lines 55-63

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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.

I considered jumping off the balcony. The thought of Khalifa and the pain he suffered stopped me from doing it. A phone rang. I didn't realize it was mine. I thought it was a neighbor's. The hooligans had taken everything else. I picked it up just in time. It was the Education Ministry. They wanted me to report in person immediately.

– from “A Black Man in Moscow,” an inspirational story that represents the truth without being factual, since the details are my creation

China is full of noise these days. People everywhere. Doing everything. Anything they can to make it. I know there's a cost to the churning. Families split apart. Like the Limas. Ten kids all over the world. San Jose. New York. Vancouver. London. Paris. Tokyo. All born in Hong Kong. If the rich can't keep it together what hope is there for the poor. I've seen the peasant families on TV. Parents who see their children once a year. Until the kids run away from their grandparents and find work in a bar somewhere.

– from “Beautiful Branca,” a true story that has been slightly embellished as far as I can recall

I told my wife what happened. My mother was going for the laptop. In my lap. To find an imaginary email. I told her to wait until I was done browsing the internet. When I was done I tried to shut the laptop. Its my fathers laptop. Password protected.

– from “The Backed-Up Toilet,” a literature story based on somebody's real life, namely the author's