fetaman.com

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

By

6 and…

,,,it don’t matter.

Tongues and assholes. Want the same piece of ass, leave it like this?

I am the one, on the left.

That’s you, too.

Want sum?

*abide*

By

This is how flying was invented.

Naked honesty.

When reflected upon and in a retroactive basis, is wild.

Beautiful and mesmerizing. Shanked by the sharpened edges of the social norm, restricted from being provided in the state of nature man was born into, for it would drag us back to the cave to be beaten.

Suffering fools, chained to the anomaly of convention sold as a bill of goods by the piper.

I wish that experience on so many, but alas – for a variety of reasons, and some within their control with others not so much so, they will never get to feel the rush of creating something so real and passionate that taking it down would be the sin, not posting it in the first place.

Sorry is the man that has never felt the rush of a solid sequence of syllables in a wave of emotion that brings him to tears, listening to the darkest of the memories tell him of the night hell broke loose and decided to bend your ear and hold your hand.

You held it back.
It was a wild night.
Do it again, I would.

Hollow is a life that is posted on a “timeline” and never reflected on again, wondering how the tree is worshipped and the memories that have made it so are forgotten to the fruits seen to be able to be harvested each year from a branch that would melt minds if it could reach into a garden of another kind.

But it can.
We can.
It does.

Gus does.

I am so unbelievably, fantastically, and cosmically stoked it is not even funny what a surreal trip this is. I am shaking with joy and emotion, at a level that is magical.

That is no lie.
That is alive.

That is fuck cancer, fuck cowards, wake up and live – alive.

No machine, no cubicle, no green grass only – orange grass.
Alive.

Where other’s see misery, and pain, and misfortune…I see opportunity.
To live, and be free from the thoughts and the illness, and ailments that want to consume me.

They shall not, but I offer them my soul and my life selflessly at the will of Abide.
If that is what it sees fit for me, then so be what I see fit for me.

To the ages of ages.

Reciprocity in piece, and being.

If you had made millions, and wanted to pursue a dream – would you?

Really?

Good, nice to meet you.

Me too.

*sip

Get ready, ’cause if you want the ticket I got one.

Enjoy the ride.

Υγεία, Φιλία kai θρησκεία
Egia, Filia kai Thriskia. 

“Health. Friendship. Faith.” is what many would get from a dictionary.

What I get out of that, well…it may not be as interesting as what Gus does.

The grass. It is orange.

*abide*

By

Doubt anyone else, but Feta.

Gus is raging.

The time is now.

The updates will be here, and the timing will be clear.

“The book” – is being published in the next 7-14 days. All ISBN information, and administrative functions have been cleared.

The “discussions” with other parties is no longer going to prevent me from completing my personal goal and intentions. Editors, publishers, agents…this is my arena, and I am tired of waiting to be told what and how to do it, sacrificed for the pittance of some time that needs to manifest itself on your calendar repeatedly to prove you have prestige in that position on the wheel.

You know where I am, the book will be out there.

Check, raise.

All in.

Fucking Gus. One “crazy” man who always believed the grass was orange, it was any colour he wanted it to be. He had a plan. It was all so simple, it seemed. Take the millions made, find new wealth and excess and create a magical marijuana operation. It was beyond criminal. It was life threatening, and life changing. The wild and drug fueled world of Gus and his associates, his family, his enemies – the life of a brother is lost, logical illusions crumble as paradox is crucified and marijuana is hung for treason while Gus reasons and has to fight to not only save his family, but in fact, himself and humanity.

This is no longer a testing pattern.

The grass is fucking orange.

Come play in it.

It won’t bite.

Promise.

*abide*

By

WordPress magic, and Blogger rabbits.

“Anyone who cannot cope with mathematics is not fully human. At best he is a tolerable subhuman who has learned to wear shoes, bathe and not make messes in the house.”

Lazarus Long, “Time Enough for Love”, (Robert A. Heinlein)

Amazing to be able to share a couple of thoughts with some folks that are real. Although there remain some that may be reluctant to reach out and actually connect beyond social media they are still considered  e-cquaintances in some capacities, because I have spent a fair share of time interacting with them during their “quality” time. So, when one of them that matters asks some thoughts on blogging/site sharing, you can smile a little and make the public reply a little more valuable than just a few DM’s back and forth.

How you doing?
*wave*

So I have a website with over 100,000 impressions. That does not make me an “expert” but it does lend some credibility to my sharing some thoughts on how that can happen for anyone who wants to remain dedicated to “creating content for free” – this is key, you have to be willing to give your thoughts, your words, your interactions away for free most of the time. An example of this working well again recently for me, is Twitter. My following was developed the way it was, and it came directly as a result of my initial 6 months, with over 80% of my interactions retweeting/sharing others more than my own content. Much of my content remained here, or in my creative writings and projects because I chose to leave it/them/me here/there for my own reasons.

So without getting into that side of the discussion, let’s assume you have something to say (*we all do, and respect for that is CRITICAL. This is different than having to honour the words or respect that thought. Be clear about that, because it goes hand in hand with this next principle.) and that is just as important as the medium that you want to use to say it. For example, if you are a complex writer and you do not want to try to “cloud” more of your interactions – unless that is your intent. If you are trying to get quick, comedic or commentary based posts up, with a little more detail then just a tweet, or a Facebook update (*puke, fucking Facebook, but a necessary evil in the publishing world – some, like me, will wait until their publisher puts a gun to their head to “re-activate” the interactions, but when they come, it will be a classic Soyuz hatch undertaking.) then you can keep a simple click and engage photo/media/content template in order very easily. Especially if you are a proven social networker able to build your following with content, interactions and the right tools and resources.

I believe when I thought about getting more into blogging, close to 8 years ago – it was a different world. Not talking about long form, or the watered down 500 word salvo’s that are “informative”, I am talking about technically speaking. I still look back at some of that content, and discovering some that was here and there. I had to “cut my chops” on some of the platforms that were clunky as fuck, and always fidgety. The clean and WYSIWYG (*What You See is What You Get) platforms today offer some unique enhancements and social aspects that one should consider somewhat before “diving in” to creating more of their content, or their own “gulch” of sorts if you dig the gig. *wink*

I am going to consider each of these like a geometric shape.

The most simple of which would be the circle, followed by a triangle, and then the square. Again, keeping it simple for this summary, as I am well aware of geometry and the multitude of shapes. Thanks.

The circle is going to be the simplest, because it is all within that circle. In one fluid motion, you can create a WYSIWYG blog, with great templates, widgets, SEO power (*search engine optimization – if you are looking to drive content for your art, creations, products, you are going to want to make sure you consider this) and a very easy and simple way of creating a post. Add your text, format a little (*if you can format in a Word document, you can do WYSIWYG) bring in a picture or media and boom.

My two favorites here for new start-ups/simple expressions/clean impressions are Blogger and Tumblr, as both integrate well with Twitter type social interactions. Blogger can be thought of more as the “micro-website” and can be customized with a purchased URL, to have it appear like a more legitimate website. For me, Tumblr is something that can expand a little on the “social networking scratch pad website” with a heavy reliance on images and short text posts. For those that “care” both Blogger and Tumblr may have a “stigma” attached to them from some folks, so if you are looking for mitigating that or controlling your image, you may need to bump up to the triangle.

*When you hit this stage, or the previous if you are a bit of a late adapter, you may even want to be considering something like the age old question – how to make money with Twitter? Tweetadder can help do that, on the side, as you go about doing what you are wanting to do anyway – whatever that is. Wealth is always relative, and I will be sharing the blessings from the Tweetadder journey soon enough, it has been a blessing in so many ways.

The super-star of the “free blogging” platforms is WordPress. Like all of the blogging sites, or most, it has a paid model that can be attached to it for enhancing the blog, but in fact, it is not what I would consider a “blog”. I consider it a website, straight up. For example, WordPress.org is different then the WordPress.com site. This is where the serious start to separate from the casual blogger/poster, and look to define and cultivate their own site – technical geeks can create masterpieces from this platform, and some of the world’s largest brands and service providers swear by WordPress. In my opinion, the support and the security, along with the resources makes this the real game changer with the right ISP/hosting.

A simple way to look at WordPress is in terms of “Twitter” development. When you first get into Twitter, it is all about interaction in the trenches. You do not know about tools, or resources that can help you weed out the spammers, or the weak poster, or the clique and bullshit fuqtards – you go about it the long way. You use tools that are there to make it easy, like WordPress.com as a complete package. WordPress.org begins to more fully develop when you see that other tools you control allow you to make more efficient use of your time. So you unfollow the deadheads, or the limited interactions. You can sort out content that is not appreciated, and even make sure to get your daily fix of the asshole that can write some mind melting stuff, and can be irritable enough he wants to make a statement about his own timeline and does not give a fuck if anyone is offended – I hear he is emphatic about this stance *wink*

WordPress as a platform will allow you to create, and customize what you want in any way you care to. The problem here for the initial blogger, especially with WordPress.org, is that it can get confusing fast. You may make some mistakes, a couple of which may cause you more grief than otherwise if you are not careful. Taking your time, and climbing slowly is the absolute ONLY way to dig the gig, but please, allow me to drop some invisible brown acid in that beer and clarify the two biggest issues – security and efficacy/efficiency.

When you try to build a model, because you like cars and want to build a really cool Model-T Ford, it is all about how old you are. If you are young, your parents are going to buy you a simple model, with maybe 5-10 parts. You glue them together, create a small car and paint it before the heavens rain down praise on your glorious model. This is an achievement for anyone, so don’t think I am knocking it. It is however, also relative. If you try to get the inexperienced builder a more complex model, not only may they get frustrated and not even be able to complete it, but if they did – it still could look like shit.

If you want your model to look good, you have to take your time. You are going to make mistakes, and you are going to have to learn how to use the simpler plug-ins, only after you have mastered the simple post. It is a game, a passion and purpose. If you like tinkering, and know you are a detail oriented person who demands to know how things work, and even more so, insists on building it all themselves? WordPress is a magical kingdom, but make sure you know someone who has “been there” – and I have said it before, will say it again, and some more folks are seeing it more and more – drop me a line or reach out, I am happy to help in a variety of capacities.

Trust me, it makes a difference not only in your confidence, but in the development of your readers, peers, associates and dare I use the word with no arrogant inferences, friends and fans.

Security in the traditional sense, and in the sense of reliability, remains the most important part of the WordPress undertaking. Do you know what you are doing with some of the programing, and are you aware you could be leaving some items on your site unsecure, and these may pose a risk to you if you are not aware? Having to include various plug-ins, protocals, updates, registrations from WordPress can make it MUCH MORE COMPLEX than it appears. The logic behind the registrations, and the information you provide to WordPress, as well as other 3rd Party Vendor/Service providers means unless you are a person that is VERY clear about how all of that works, you are going to want to work with someone at least as a peer/associate to help provide some advice on choices and options. If you are interested in some more advice, or want to ask a question, please know I am happy to address just drop me a line here at fetaman.com. If you are too paranoid to do that, then you are definitely not WordPress material, or likely going to flush out as a fly-by-nighter.

Reliability is just as important. With WordPress, you have to co-ordinate domain and site registrations, or have Control Panel interactions that can cause the site to go off-line. This is not a good thing, ever. Neither is having the site take more than 3 seconds, because of your structure not some fuqtard VIc 20, to fully load. If you know what you are doing with WordPress and you have cut some of your teeth, you can make sure you are always backed up, secured, on-line. If you do not know that much, but are a technical “geek” and want to leverage the WordPress paid services, they offer clean plans and nice solutions for all levels of entry.

The final layer, is a full blown “traditional” website consideration, with an ISP/hosting arrangement provided by a quality service team that can help keep the site going. I am not at this point, and not going to comment on it. I have no interest in letting my life get even more insane by expanding what is all ready a full-time job equivalent – and more.

*As a side note, I had a conversation with one of my most personable and real “friends” from Twitter about what it takes for them to get “trill traction yo” – it all boiled down to focus. On average, fetaman.com has consumed about 12 hours a day, with much of it in the locked sections that are available to only certain 3rd parties, for reasons only I truly know. They have their reasons for being there, and I have mine for allowing it.
I will end the suspense by pretty much declaring it is creative and team driven content. There are some folks that are interested, and have proven that they want to earn something from doing what they do. All of “us”, including Gus and not a single one is left out, begins with the concept of “thank you” as the largest payment. Recognition, some kind of pat on the back that something that was shared was more than just a flick of a wrist – it was a genuine desire to make sure we knew, something, however fucked it may seem or not, made a difference. That is why I do it. The money, and the fame – lmao – seriously?

*burp*

Simply put, unless you are a bit of a tech head – stick with the simple text/media/social platform template. The combinations of available widgets and creative content control allows you to use a directed/ghost URL, to actually create the website url/domain name you want, while keeping all the functionality of Blogger and the WYSIWYG backbone. Your best bet is going to be Blogger or Tumblr with a purchased URL.

Right now, I am conducting my own research and measuring some pretty interesting metrics, especially related to some tangent theories on the correlations between actual, and perceived friendships as opposes to interactions, as opposed to measured qualified sitings. Funny, some of the folks that I had “interacted” with earlier have either voluntarily left, or scurried away like cowards, maybe off parachuting or playing their games without frontiers, or just don’t like my stuff in some way shape or form – cool. Is what it is, some sweet lessons in there, as there are sweet lessons in the way you want to extend a hand.

Like this, when everyone is going to think it is fucked, or many will not even read it.

But if you want help, and I do not mean letting me control data or anything, you just want help to have someone add some thoughts, perhaps call them batting signals – well, trust me. I like to play, this is what life is about.

It has nothing to do with money.
It has everything to do with faith.

When you can help, and choose to ask for nothing in return – the return is greater than anything, except for respect for the time that was earned.

*abide*

By

Accordion Alleys.

There is no way anyone is going to be able to understand this without some context, so please allow me to take you on a bit of journey as to how, an incredible accordion had me dancing on a Friday, directly as a result of a path that had not been pre-determined whatsoever, but one that had been effectively caused to spin in an orbit that only folks that have been online can experience. Speaking about it, as the trip that it is – another thing entirely.

It really is an odd track, and perhaps some may want to adjust the RPM’s – no regard to the telling, I will merely wander through some reflections and come to a place that has me sitting in front of a regular website that I frequent, salient news information in a way that is digestible and well sourced. There are too many to list and of course failure to miss even one would cause some grief somewhere, so assume it was one that you had on the frequent flyer program, and this little Leer was about to cause some changes to the flight pattern.

A provocative title that mentioned philanthropy and porn had grabbed my attention.

Fuck off, it was amongst all of the regular “business” articles, and it struck me as odd that it had been placed there. It also had a set of the icons illustrating “fire” or how many social network feeds it had been connected to, and despite many of these being forged or not even acted upon (*which, for the record – fuck, the traffic is sick, and what – no one wants to be associated with linking to the site? I must admit, this is rather frustrating, but it will not stop me from doing what I have to do, and how I am going to do that is about what I do, not to whom and for what it is done.) I take them for some kind of measuring stick, not sure why, again, like asking a bunch of dung magicians to discuss quantum physics.

I guess there could be some kind of magical rocket scientist in that group, but I remain skeptical, having seen most of that kind able to pull shit out of a hat, but no rabbit.

It had a feed about porn being ethical, and all people being able to enjoy it or try it out in their own space, and it was a freedom of choice thing. I don’t want to detail it much more than that, as I truly hope you will look at the article as referenced in the original post here.

I was inspired.

Seldom one often to be drawn into the porn discussion realm, but having an interesting range of experiences with it online as of late has caused some dissections. Not of the kind you would normally fancy I am sure, but of the paranormal kind that only an honest and objective look at facts may qualify. I am a purest in that regard, finding that as facts shift or sway in the natural progression that one might argue all humans demand of their formed opinions, so to does my admiration of disdain for the twine qualified roast that is about to be consumed with some gravy and chitlins.

The narration was obscure, and real. Spoken from the man himself, a dedicated champion of a cause that can seem so disjointed in the simple terms of what it boils down to, and the champions of censorship and disgust may scream at the top of their lungs when they look at, but at least they will take action.

Many of you will simply look away.

Doing nothing.

Thinking that no action absolves you from tainted decisions that one side or the other is going to hurl at you, and that is frankly distasteful. You find the thought horrible, and it is compounded by the horrible thought you feel if you begin to associate with “them” or “that” crowd. Such animals, such creatures you think as the Kleenex brand tissue wipes the foul chic of a walking asshole.

Your lack of action is the action, it a voice that clearly states in its absence.

It does not agree.

I am sorry if that cuts to the chase, but it is true.

This is a fact of life, move on.

So fucking what.

You think I wondered if posting would be seen to be an endorsement, or if I would be viewed as some kind of “pervert” who wanted to look at this only to find a glimpse of an ass veiled by some smoke and the imagination? The locations familiar to the mind; one should not admit that for fear of being recognized as a swine, or a filth pig capable of rolling around in that mud.

We all track mud.
It is the combination of water and dirt.
We all walk the miles on this earth.
We all will have mud.
I don’t care what else you want to call it.
It is mud.
Oink, fuck.

It did not take long for the action.

It was swift.
I wrote, it came.
I moved on.

Stated as a guttural fact, respect is a harsh mistress.

I had an exchange that came from another artist, and I try to use this word with the respect from which I in the past had distinct regard for, this is truth. I defined an artist differently, guess I had to as all definitions will change in time and never remain truly static, do they? I had found artistry in a more commercial form, like an archer’s bow and some caviar at a museum or gala. I had appreciated it, as beauty. Today the regard for it as a word is seldom tossed around by me. I have to be discrete, it is a choice sanctioned by my self.

As such, only she will know who she is here.

*smirk*

I was thrilled to see some diversions.

These are the reasons I am here.

These are the reasons that allow me to wander into the stars.

Different stars.

Stars like you.

Shining brightly, hoping to be the focus of a remaining eye at the end of the trail. Along this edge though, not only the snail. The shadow of the fractal mind, looking for some kind of infinite simplicity where the colors and the shouts all melt into a simple cotton garment in the summer sun.

There, in the grass. Fascinating, and pure.

Truthful in the need to simply express, even the most obscure note.

The progression had nothing to do with anything more than a primal need to accomplish the removal of the act. Seemingly blissful and expansive, there had to be more.

Is this not what we ask, when we put it out there – when we find that chance encounter and reach out, at times to have the hand slapped back for fear of finding something to hold on to?

It did not want to be held, it simply wanted to be acknowledged.

The message that came back from the darkness may have been to some shallow and grave, to one who is aware of the cosmos and the beauty of the mysterious;

“The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and science. He to whom the emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand wrapped in awe, is as good as dead —his eyes are closed. The insight into the mystery of life, coupled though it be with fear, has also given rise to religion. To know what is impenetrable to us really exists, manifesting itself as the highest wisdom and the most radiant beauty, which our dull faculties can comprehend only in their most primitive forms—this knowledge, this feeling is at the centre of true religiousness.” – Einstein

Freedom is such a magical thing.

Is this what you really think?

So many different things can go through the mind of one, especially walking down the street. We have become enamel on the lens and dry in the sun. Curation for a nation has a new realm, and it is called dignity. What the nit is really digging for, I am not sure, nor do I care. I am asked to forgive him for his transgressions, as I ask to have my transgressions forgiven by others, so as this day, my daily bread can go to a hand that seeks a way up, with dignity. Do you have it? Then spare the dime, or some time. Life is the accordion, and some have a passion for it. Click the picture, open your mind. Feel life as the stave. They play as a force, these accordions. The wind is channeled through a mind. Yours. Dance, dance for Argentina – but do not cry. It is not foul, is merely the celebration of the decomposition, the structural, fractal analysis of the simple infinity that is composed anarchy. Touch the keys. Enjoy the moment, it may pass, but I remain thankful for it. I shall store it as such, thankful.

Wish it upon all, but know it is not anything you can have anything to do with.

Much like the tact you left at the doormat near the door that asked you to sign in. You had to be identified by the number, or the badge.

There had to be a brand behind that smile, and it had to be whole and clean before you got down and did the hand jive on that polish sir, yes sir.

Which.

Sounds so cunning and arrogant, like a question meant to be replied with the same demand it was brought forth with.

The black cape and the hat, have nothing to do with it.

The volley into a flame for the sake of performance, but to whom – the question of the sensor ship and the sensory evaluation, a form to be filled in and wrapped into a cannoli waiting for the ward to bring judgment on your worth to the machine.

No, it had nothing to do with that, and all to do with the choice.

See, it does make all the difference.

Which, is up to you.

Of course, and the I.

*abide*

By

A wild thing, choice.


The woe, a man kind, wore her golf suit and made mischief of many binds

and a bother

her mother called her “WILD THING!”
and Man said “I’LL BEAT YOU UP!”
so she sent her to bed without eating anything.

That very night in Man’s room a rave grew

and grew –

and grew until her ceiling hung with JBL chords
and the walls became the world’s woofers

and an ocean tumbled by with a private vowel for Man
and she sailed off staves through night and ray

and in and out of creeks
and almost over her tear
to where the wild things danced

And when she dug tattoo anchors ashore, where the wild things are
they scored their terrible roars with gnashed, lies and terrible feats

and pills rolled their terrible sighs and bowed to their terrible clause

till Man said “BE STILL!”
and tamed them with the magic click-click barber trick

of glaring into all cracked and mellow eyes without blinking once
and they were enlightened and called her the most wild thing of all

and made her king of all the lie things.

“And now,” cried Man, “let the parade-a-lumpus start!”

“Now drop!” Man said and sent the wild things off to the house lounge
without their water. And Man the king of all the lie things was bonely
and wanted to be where someone could loved her best of all.

Then all around from far away across this cold world
she smelled good things to eat
so she gave up being king of lies, and the wild things star.

“Guts,” the wild things cried, “please don’t go—
we must eat your up inside – we love you so!”
And Man said, “No!”

The lie things roared their terrible oars and thumped their terrible feats
and rolled their horrible aye’s and showered their cancerous applause
but Man stepped into his private boat and fishes waved good-bye

and sailed back through many a fear
and in and out of words she speaks
and view some hay

and into the sight of her very own room
where she found her happiness waiting for her

and it was still hot.

*an invisible brown acid re-write, of Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak.

By

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By

come4. Freedom.

To think how you want.

To be what you want.

To appreciate the life you have.

To not give a fuck about the judgement or the need to conform the requirements that others demand, but you are to be stripped of.

To find dignity in the cause, and doing the right thing.

Freedom – you have that right, of course.

*sip

To the men and women, regardless of their voice and their choice, who hold it high and fill the jar full of the fuq’s given…and all of those with open minds, and new frontiers, this is the world we live in, and the judgment is yours, mine is reserved for when I shake the cerebral joints, in the hands of the men and women who challenge convention with ethical, moral and logical anarchy to the degree of sum.

Two parts of an equation, from the come4.org website are quoted below and can be accessed by clicking on them, they are linked to the landing page;

“Sex” is the top word searched on Internet. With nearly 100 Billion of yearly revenues, the porn industry is one of the greatest markets online. Unfortunately, it is also one of the less ethical and transparent ones. Many people consuming free pornography think that the only risk they may run into is that of being discovered by others. This idea, however, is not just naïve, but also wrong, for the current model of consuming online sexual contents has many negative implications for all of us.”

“Provided no one is harmed and that everything is legal, is there any reason why part of these revenues cannot be used for better ends?”

THE LOVER from a group that launches belief grenades come4.org, an open mind organization

Stance has nothing to do with stand.

I have everything to do with place, and grace.

Of intellect, and of choice.

Respect of it, and the ubiquity that is allowed by it.

Freedom, to “allow” to exist is a criminal act, not an orange kite.

It is grand, there is no human that should not find joy without this freedom.

The wind prompts no harsh world, unless it holds its own.

The grass, it is orange.

It really is.

*abide*

 

By

Free beer.

1)    RT this post.
2)    Beer?

  • Farmer’s beer, entry
  • Canadian, or European – 2 entries for Canadian, and 3 entries for a European (*all entries once entered, have unlimited retweet/post entries for each separate post) + receive FREE the first “Orange Grass Abides” e-book at publishing + VIP* access to exclusive Gulch events and opportunities.

3)    Once posted live, you are entered to win a new 4GB iPod Shuffle *marijuana green
4)    Each additional RT, from the site – another chance(s) to get some abide.
5)    Winner/friend receives iPod shipped to their address/confirmation by end of this week, via UPS Tracked Package Delivery.*

It does not get any more complex than that.

If only I could be this elite, very productive game it appears. *fuqtarded by choice

Somehow we all wonder through, and seldom spend enough time with the feet on the ground and not six feet beneath it. The grass is orange, and today is your day to make a difference. This is more than just a “promotion” of the upcoming site, it is the assetized right to do right, for a just cause, a choice, like enlightenment, is universal. Warning is not an asset, it is an act. No catch – participate, get a chance to get a 4GB iPod Shuffle, in ganja green to celebrate 4/20, 2013 and to pass on a way of connecting. The “twitterverse” is just a knock, somewhere out there are some answers, orange stars. The grass is orange, it is any colour you want it to be.

Over the next 72 hours**, I will be giving away an iPod Shuffle, 3rd Generation, 4GB.

It is green.

Like grass, and money.
You believe in grass.
The orange grass?

Then just retweet this post – spread the word, and enter with a “farmer’s beer”, a “meagre” $3.00 beer, by using the pull down on the right side of the main page. (*or here if in another forum/post)

I don’t get “paid” to do this, and yes, it is a function of “branding” a writing style, and an approach to reach out to people of the same mind. What kind? Just a couple of thoughts, of the top of my “baked” head, you know, as a fuqtard myself;

  • 100% of this site is free. To date, the time allocated and upgrades have been all to ensure that there is something unique and appreciated out there on the site. It is a work in progress, and the stories are multi-media based. The “tales” are the invisible brown acid, the invisible paranoia that has been cropped, too close like the nail you just never imagined would be the degenerate that hangs on to skin torn off. No questions asked, no questions answered.
  • The person who is going to appreciate that 80% of my “tweets” are attributed to RT’s. I hit them hard, and have an affinity for not being able to “promote” when I smile, and hit that button. Those that will eventually sit at a table, will appreciate the travellers around them. The counsel is as sage as the company kept, and darkness may bring closed doors to some, but comfort to others. Never in perpetuity, for to promise so would be squandered asinine dust for the meek.
  • The “Favstar” crowd can self-promote, inflate their own accounts with KNOWN bullshit, and my hard work and effort in keeping it all clean, and involving folks that are interactive, is “outcast”? What the fuck, this high school? Fuck right off, there are folks that dig the gig, and happy to prove it, as I do to them. Have you been a frequent bar stool abider at the gulch table top, then shake my freaking hand man – the people that know me in life do, and I honor that.
  • Social media is a way of interacting, and this is my curtain call. I am getting the book out in weeks. Want to review it for free? Get involved right now. Want to be able to participate in a project, and some VIP/invited creative projects for collaborative writing, screenplay and movie production – financed, and looking for active, intelligent and creative people? Get involved right now. Have an urge to stand the fuck up, or need some help to do that discretely – a call, a note, some paper, a smile – anything is possible if you just ask. Like asking for a beer. It is a declaration of your thirst and desire for a beer, nothing more. If one wishes, I am happy to offer many more, and more, in return. Discretion is such a disconcerting continent for the weary traveller unsure of their path.

It don’t try, but I am kind of thirsty from all of the writing.

Interact, and each post you RT, from now until 4:20 p.m on Tuesday, April 24, 2013 (*Toronto time for all the GMT aficionados) will get you an entry to the giveaway. No bullshit. That simple, the draw will be a live video screenshot just in case some of the fuqranaut’s that read this think it is a scam. (**snap edit @ 9:24 p.m – per my discretion, may be extended for duration based on interest, but no later than the 26th of April, 2013. As at 11:00 a.m Sunday, April 21, 2013 looking like this is the case. I will update for end of day today, based on folks interacting on all steps. Getting the word out is hard in a place that sees millions of words flash in a second.)

No, those are perpetrated in other forms on Twitterwebs, like the path of the bridle that has many others hoping it will lead to a “special” canopy, and the assholes that participate get their due in karma, and in life. This is assured.

You RT this to “start” off your interest in wanting to participate, and for example RT another 5 (*make sure to do this from www.fetaman.com, and from each post separately, as that is how the counter is going to scrap entries. For the record, I am assuming this is not going to be a million hits, and I will be reviewing the list. Making sure you have at least been a follower, or followed, and/or on the list and “relevant”. I reserve the right to tell you to fuck right off if you are one of the “trill followback” tarts that think there be butter in this tart. Sure thing…clean, simple.) then that is going to get you the beer entries + 5 entries, in this example a FB is 5, CB is 7, and EB would be 8 entries.

Support Gus – he is thirsty as well.

Score him a European beer, or a shot of liquid smoke, “orange grass” – and not only receive entry, but provide your email address with the support of the effort to date, and get a copy of the forthcoming book, code named “Orange Grass Abides”.

If you have been following me, or have a “clue” about the last decades of Fetaman, you know that this has been a long road, and we are not quitting.

Your support is appreciated, in whatever capacity that may be – that even includes the lovely haters and folks that want to cast stones from imaginary houses, and under the guise of internet protectors and libertarians.

I wander through the badges, and smile.
The context of it, smirk or invitation?

How about this, let’s keep it real simple.

I can write, and willing to do that for a fee – anytime, any place.
Should be easy enough to contact me for “whatever” you need.
Any problems, will be none.
I am available.
What do you want?
Discretion is always assured.

I write here, and also on Twitter as @fuqtarded.

I am blessed to be in the good position to give away this new 4GB iPod Shuffle, 3rd Generation, and it will be shipped anywhere in the continental America’s.

Consider an old Greek tale that illustrates the same principle as on “Twitter”, as paraphrased; one hand washes the other, and both the face.

Clean, crisp, transparent honesty.

There has been nothing different in this “water”, except the pruned force of it, the reaction is, may be, will be a brine tsunami. It is coming friends, and soon, whether the site goes “code sub” as a whole, or in part, be assured, it will.

Get to high ground.
Not all gulches are by essence deep, perspective may cause logical illusions.
Hit the shit, share some shit.
Spread the word, and get in the gig.
You buy an app and discard it in days.
You buy a beer, and don’t even remember the conversation.
It had no impact.

Have I not made some kind of impact, some kind of appeal with the actions, to warrant a tiny hit from the sun?

Or is my time, under this sun, done?

Fucking hot in here, these pretzel’s have been making Gus thirsty.

*abide*

By

Forgive me. I have sinned.

Our Elites, are in tweet heaven, 
Holy is Their Name;
Their kingdom’s cum,
 your wills begets some,

on Favstar as it is in your “heaven.”
Elites, serve us this day your daily head,
and Big Mac us your puns, 
so we forgive the fuqtards who sin against us;
and lead me not in masturbation,
 but lever my meat cause I’m evil.
Amen.

I know you are cut of the cloth that has never done such things, oh wise monk of Twitter, with your sage drive-thru cloak and pontificated presence in the Elite Lords stewardship, but I stand here before you with one hope.

The abstinence that will be fed to purge my soul of the vile tribulations that you walked, and I know of the hardship that you had gone through – to have had to walk through the valley of the Chiseled Followback clan, and survived – all in a testament to the star piles left beside the camel dung of your sage words and creative sadness, lest not forget the monotonous tones of your identity and your characters in Jesus Christ, Superstarbang – a miracle. I can only be so blessed to know one day I may be able to tweet about what I ate, and inspire another to smile with my misery over the battery remote, please forgive me for what I am about to reveal.

Revile me.

I sought the Jezebel, a woman that Mary Mandolin had strummed singing sweet songs of memories pure and true, it was her message to me and I fell to her wails. I wanted to be like you oh great monk of the perish.

I had to kiss her, Tweetadder. Her twitter strategy…so…flawless. Fair. So just. So “elite”.

She was so lovely there. Glistening in the moonlight, the shadow that had been cast by your own forefathers. Perhaps even those of the renowned Twitteratti, slipping from character to character to replace the chalice from their library years, with a hope that no one can hear that stalk fall or the sirens calls heated by the glorious gasps of dragons I am assured you have tamed, now that you have left them out of those dungeons.

The forest is such a wild place for a wizard. You know, or at least one of your identities knows. Of this, be sure.

I should not have been tempted, but the link. It seemed so real. So true, it must have been a real person there, gifted in the craft they speak so much of being able to create. The bosoms were grand, they were everywhere – she had turned into a nipple Medusa. I was not able to escape her clever ways, and appealing musk. The site before me was horrific, I had thought, that yes, if I had made it to the mountain I would be well armed to move forward and avoid her calls.

But those nipples…below knee…baloney…delirious joy…freedom.

Oh but wise sage, those nipples, how they turned into aureole serpents of flesh tones promised with the taste of the positions to come. The format kingdom, for but a moment to see what she really had in store for me, not knowing it was just the gateway.

She leaned in, and whispered.

“See who is not following you.”

It was glorious.

Like something I had never seen before.

She was right.

It was the gateway.

And this, this is my satchel.

Each filled with a real story, and real experience.

Each letter, each stroke counted, known.

The money shots, the lucky shots, the buck shots, hot shots, shit shots, big shots, bot shots…

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the hord:
Tramps of vintage oak where the grapes of wrath are stored;
I have loosed the feta lightning of tsunami swift brine words:
Girthy souvlaki dong.

“Glory, glory, hallelujah!”

Yes, I had seen what her power was.

And the patterns all became so clear.

I was hooked.

It had all started with the one simple filter application.

Such sexy lingerie, such a ubiquitous smirk…how did you do it, how did you resist the temptation? Tell me.

You*: “Forefathers of the Chiseled Followback clan, the Favstar Genitalliarattii, had tried to survive in the world, and hoped they could hide in their secret world, but they had to mutate, and begin to preserve their word on the dried parchment of elk cock. It was a horrible time, but they survived. Merely on the bones and fluids of their own kind, shoving star, after star, after worthless star – no nutritional value in those virtual mitzvah’s. Some said it was Zeus himself that had no value, but we are not want here to decide if we should deconstruct the glorious essence of their choices, so much as to agree.”

Yes, forgive me, a dirty efficiency whore looking to be more effective in marketing my book about funny shit, and entertaining, never begging for sympathy despite a semi-private survival of cancer, or hoping that one would simply donate, but offering words in fair exchange for entertainment not constrained by Google ads and horrible pupil killing dissentry and disgusting cardboard entertainment about another cat being walked by a fictional owner, or another flat dissertation on the meaning of love and why it will kill all your dreams, so just listen to your Smith’s cassette and you will figure out now came sooner than you thought  – forgive m…

You*: “The fools you suffer on Twitter are of your own making. It is merely your imagination, and want for some kind of excitement, or a need to fill that void, with some kind of creativity. Some of the animals in the forest, are vile and nasty, and are still part of it. Some are whores and suckers of meat sticks their children and wives are oblivious to, but know this. They have a role, and so you can allow them to do what they wish, but protect yourself from them by using more tools. Being aware of who and what they are, before they can attempt to get into your mind. Do not be fearful of their lack of cackles, or their support. You do not need it. Please read the piece of paper you can take with you, and post of it on your website. Inform the people of the world, that they exist. Those that have whored themselves out for number, and with no creativity and action, but thinking they can now control you. Mankind, will never advance beyond the state of Twitter, if we do not stay the course.”

Sancte redemptor scriptor, fides vestra

Fides est nobis creativum winners,
Nunc et in miseria vestri, ad iustitiam.
Futuis iudicium vestrum, quod suus ‘valor est vilis mihi.
Mea vita est, intellectus meus.
Ego in harena quisquam.

*abide*

*please read this section out loud while reading it. If you do not read it, I will not be able to hear you. As such, please go back, and read it again loud, and I will get back to you when I can. If you don’t eat your meat, how do you expect to get any pudding? You can’t get any pudding, if you don’t eat the meat.

**contact is imminent as a matter of choice, not fate.