Brinesanity – an abide jar, filled with all the fuqs given.


Trick Baby

Masterfully done, up there with the ranks of Able.
Well done, very well played.

Entertaining for a 5 minute look at the generations, and the media that led us here, sittin’ in a gulch, listening to the waves of foreign lands lull us to sleep, with dreams of sugar daddies lacing dreams.

Procurer, bringing the light about White Folks, from Blue Howard.

Potential is an incredible advanture story, and a calm spell is much different than a con one.



Chong, M. Zidane

Chronic is not always about the good, it has to look at all aspects, and not just one to make weight.

It is about the wait, for the tide to come.

As it will, as willed.



Travels of a One Hitter

So what if it was saturday, and you were a walker that thought.

“Fuck what a great day”

Decide to take the one hitter out for that day and enjoy the sunshine, walk around and take photos of the shit you could catch on film…and in words…but it was caught.

You grab a bud, nice sorts and snap the button for a few…loaded for bear with the arrival home locked down as well.

Look at the sheen on that well crafted wood as if it had any other reason to live than to store the madness held within.

Oregano’d elixir of the earthen minutes passed under the rays that called for stretching to it, as a moth to a flame goes to the taco shack. House of burro, you waitress is a .jaxon, on the short side.

Aquarium Drunkard. How those fish swim so gloriously.

Man that was the day the wooden tractor was found. Pretty epic, it was a real favourite. I know he knows how much thought and love went into that one.

Just the way it is.



Evel’s Heaven

“Heaven is a place you can go and drink a lot of draft beer and it don’t make you fat. You can cheat on your wife and she don’t get mad. You get a beautiful female chauffeur with nice, hard tits — real ones. There are motorcycle jumps you never miss. You don’t need a tee time.”

Evel Knievel


Giving the Meow a Bath

oh my does this ever bring back some classic memories.

Salty Katnip



Parking lot PhD’s

“A word to the wise is infuriating.”

Hunter S. Thompson


Heart of Darkness

“It seems to me I am trying to tell you a dream–making a vain attempt, because no relation of a dream can convey the dream-sensation, that commingling of absurdity, surprise, and bewilderment in a tremor of struggling revolt, that notion of being captured by the incredible which is of the very essence of dreams…No, it is impossible; it is impossible to convey the life-sensation of any given epoch of one’s existence–that which makes its truth, its meaning–its subtle and penetrating essence. It is impossible. We live, as we dream-alone…”

Heart of Darkness
Joseph Conrad


Clowns to the left of me

Sounded so hollow when said into the echo of the eremite’s mind.

The light in the kitchen was still on, scented curry still floating in the air, and rice ready to chill on the shelf for tomottow’s reheating in a searing nuclear explosion.

The fair madness of daily life, demanded this picture not be an obscure one.

In fact, it would be common, in some form.

Life walked along a normal path for many, as the street scene sifted transmissions through a plate glass panel, you would think it was better than LSD.

Nothing gets better these days, says the mass.

I disagree. Life does.

As real as it fucking gets, is reading through this panel of words that have been thrown into the tangled web, with a small statement, a small reminder that you were here, that there were those that “hate” you and those that think “you are a tool”.

Judge not?

Easier said than done.

The small beaver inside my head keeps reminding me that I got a few trunks in this forest. The buzz of the teeth yet to define benign or malignant dams.

Hard to imagine, bring on the noise.

Let me hear the thud of stone, and airs of said stone.

Stoned airs.

Not on the grass says the stapler commando? Really?

You don’t think that the cubicle, or the small mound of space you are defending is a battle against another form of it?

<grabs white russian, sits on rug, sips and smiles>

As you wish buttercup, as you wish.



Over the Alps. Tine.

“The Edge… there is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who have gone over.”

Hunter S. Thompson


Cheap food? No, the 50% principle

So I feel like sharing how cheap I am, and had to have a laugh, when I had a quick evening beverage with a colleague in life, and he said how…I said watch. I got a pair of meals, at half price by offering a simple solution.

The place we met was a discrete, franchise, where the pints are cold, good and about 20% cheaper. So we wanted some fries, I told him we would order one, with no gravy, and each have our own plates. So I offered the server a proposition, bring the gravy he serves for free. And then I will give him 50% of that sum (*with tax) as a tip. Not on the bill.

So he brings the fries, and the one is ‘cold’ so he leaves them, comes back with two fresh plates. And the free gravies. Original fries paid, balance at 50%, and here is the beauty…no tax on gratis.

You bring manager over, commend server for attentive service, thus earning two free pints at $0 cost. Total tab. 15 bucks. Tip makes $25. Total intake 4 pints, two fries, gravies, and cheese bread. Bill with tip if real?


So def a win, and in fact, to the holier than though (*yes, in case too dense, I meant thou, with some sarcasm via text, but you are too busy smelling your finger) make sure you send the city a cheque for the parking time you got away with.

Survival of the fittest brothers and sisters, as long as the harm if anonymous…or is it?

Is this stealing? Doest thoughest casteth stoneth eh?
Then do so…afterall, this is thou Sparta.