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

By

One small step…?

It is a small step?

It was a small undertaking, unimportant.

iGus peers from the shadows of “fiction”.

I abide.

Oh, how the truth does set one free.

Cowards need not apply, liars lay in thine grass.

No issue, I own my miles, in my gulch.

The grass is orange.

Fuck you cancer, we win…again.

μάνα, για πάντα στην καρδιά μου.

*abide*

02-16-2013 

By

The Muppets

Those funny, funny muppets. Just trying to tie their own rooms together, and share some appreciation for the gig and the league games. I mean these points do count right, towards some kind of marriage proposal of something?

A scene from the muppet movie, a walk into a strange theatre wondering, perhaps this is the wrong theatre? I wonder, if I say a few things to person beside me, are they of a sound mind? How exciting…how so very exciting. Hi Icarus, name is Fetaman, how you doing today?

Amazing, what the change of a little thing like syntax, or cowardly actions, strange behaviours from odd folks, that otherwise seem so kind and real, or perhaps such as others that care to put things out in the universe, as real, with no fear – to enjoy the show.

Cause after all, all the world is a stave.

That stave for me, right now, fully aware. is one giant bowling lane.
*context smirk*

It is yours, and you choose it.

Don’t blame me for the misery of the interpretations you make.

Some funny folks have been included below, as a way of sending a smile and wave. Not a fucking marriage proposal.

The secrets that you keep, may have something to do with your own trip, but hey, just worry about your own miles sunshine, no need to worry about mine.

I got those.

Enjoy the smiles, cause nothing says a man can laugh, like laughing at masturbating muppets.

*abide*

*per above link and YouTube reference, the original footage is from the Muppet Movie, and all rights and love go out to the creators and team that put it all together, making lessons and childhood a good experience. James Maury “Jim” Henson (September 24, 1936 – May 16, 1990) 

 

By

El Insecto

fetaman, fetaChops, fetaChop, brinesanity, iFeta, fetacabulary, raw, fuck liars

All pictures are a project, and hanging them, has very little to do with shame, and everything to do with how you choose to tie your own room together.

A door sliding open with the tender interest in allowing her to pass the cold steel with the blink of an eye, leaving it in her cloud of confidence, as she framed the single click of her heel seconds before the carpet captured her imprint as a cushion.

It was not possible to forget the red on the balance sheet did not seem so pleased to see, but she was able to begin to feel the sepia yellow that had been created by the silicon and the new lights the corporation had put up. It was almost unbearable on those other days, when she came here to stay, before.

The walk was a tempo, a calm union of a pearled brass circle that hummed with the touch of the brush. Long legs, and beautiful straps that were the call of many to their death at the boardroom table, or at the annual holiday events, assured themselves of the reasons they had been told to carry on.

The environment was clean, always is. That is why she racked up so many points, being away from the family. Her husband.

What a fucking asshole.

This was just one of the things she had to do, to keep the family together. It was all just part of the game.

There was never a chance of her being seen here. This was her special place, and she was able to freely touch any string she wanted to. Like the days she used to sing her own song, not having to wait for another to catch the same note. The tones were always right, and she was to tune the way she wanted to.

This was her symphony, and she was paid to take charge of mitigating the discomfort, and bringing in its stead, a calming glory that is understood only when the lines are drawn by hand.

She had time, and undressed. She would take a bath, and take advantage of the perks. Olive oil fusion, bringing the branch that would be held, and imagined as such, closer to his truncated fantasies. Scratching the window to an inner soul, hoping the mark is aural.

The rustling of the bushes of the bushes would never be heard over the trees. The forest was a place that was filled with all things natural, and it was natural to feel loved again. To feel wanted. To turn to the words of a stranger, and feel a love, and a closeness, different than any other kind you could even imagine, would mean having to perform, and she ached to perform.

It was her calling, and the audience that she had admitted to her seen, was no longer one that could satisfy her as a woman. A muse, that was capable of enchanting and thrilling.

Duration was always her focal point. Longevity, in life, in love, in lust, holding it to some kind of imaginary light, hoping to understand how long it would last, as she liked it, knowing that it was just like her own bit alias. It was her, who felt somewhat timid in trying to reach out to literal strangers, for direction and advice, but never having been a timid woman, she approached it with some discretion and a scalpel forged of caution.

Any limb catching anything that could cause harm to the body, was a severance gladly paid for a compensated reality, more blessed without it.

Mens. Fucking. Rea.

She sat and looked at the delicate rubber ducky, and thought of her child. This precious being that she had created, her forced smile came naturally. Intelligent conversation, and humor, is never a bother. Again, it is, just what was.

The door had been left open, and he knew it would be. It was nunca saldre de ella, he was in it. That was what made the experience such a dance.

He wanted the full GFE. There was little else there was time for, and somehow, it created the stir. A magic longing, for this creature, so small, so dirty, so indestructible, that you had to both despise and lust for it.

It was just natural.

Keeping it out in that kind of open, them, and watching people just pass by it all – kind of like a Coelhoen way, of being the way, that some write.

Maktub.

It is over, and somehow, never ends.

*abide*

By

Twitter Keg

WhiteDynomite @Markiverse
Million Dollar Idea: A lint roller made outta really sticky weed. Gets the cat hair off your coat & gets you high when you’re done with it.

Went to a wake last night. Someone I haven’t seen in 30yrs says to me “When u were a kid u loved french fries! Ya still like french fries??

@Markiverse hope you showed him the prototype lint brush. sniffed it. and then walked away smiling as you mutter “yeah, french fries.”

@fuqtarded You are a poet of a liquid language that falls tasteless on some peoples ears. And yet others are doing keg stands off the shit.

fetaman, iFeta, fetaChop, biographical, ghost feta, brinesanity, abide, fetacabulary, Dalai Feta, believe, #fuqcancer

A picture can say a thousand words. The story behind those words will likely take a thousand pages. These are but a few.

It would appear, from the title, the sequence of the tweets that have appeared before the picture, and the picture itself, you can predict that this piece will involve some kind of pre-meditated reflection of the days that go back decades, to a younger time, and one that had so much more fun, and partying, and the like.

I know how to party, and I am going to prove it.

Let me reflect on those days, with the arrow drawn from my pouch, as I prepare to leap over modern champions, with gay and exciting exclamations trumpeting loudly the trajectory of my digressions.

No.

I would like to get a couple of things stated early here. First, I love fun, and happy, and am referring to it as such, not that there is an issue, all are welcome, just not welcome to assume I am interested in any type of penis on penis or sword fight type action or wandering hands. Wandering hands, of the female persuasion, will be considered, and proper attention will be payed to the selected female candidates as they rank in the primary LIKIT groupings. (*Laughy, Intelligenter, Kute, Inspiringization Factor, Tits)

Second, I am going to more than likely just take this idea to another level, and create another piece, with some of the fictional characters, and what not, obviously linked, or referenced, or at the very least inspiring the other characters. Just a fact of fucking life when it comes to fiction, or writing. This is the reason, that any and all writers have to be true to themselves, and be willing to share some of that, and in fact most of it, freely, in order to get to the content and the context they are really looking at.

I see this as my own kind of Twitter Keg, and fuck, my “friend”, a newer following and follower in my “world” as the bit alias @fuqtarded, pointed out, some very kind words.

One of the finest things one can do for someone that really respects them, and their measurement. It should go without saying, but we are on the internet, so you better say it or express it somehow, else folks are going to fuck right off and just not read  your mind, folks are just to busy for that mind reading shit these days, and it is a dying, gypsy tradition like reading coffee grinds and rigour mortis tag.

It got me to thinking about the keg, and what that means to actually have to drink all  of that great, delicious beer, and have it be so overwhelming, all you can do is drink as fast as you can, and sing, and dance, and sing and dance, and laugh and drink, and sing and dance, and laugh, and keg stand – nope, another time, that one was bullshit, and sing and dance, and sing, and puke.

It is bound to happen. You are going to go through the phase of the keg stand process in your Twitter experience, and I am kind of documenting mine right now, in a way, that is going to be different than the other “elites”, and they can write whatever the fuck they want, and follow or take clues on format, or copy, or even just re-phrase some of the shit and then consider it is all their own.

Fuck, you kidding me.

Life is a remix.

The whole thing we are doing, is just one giant game of musical chairs, and all we are doing is changing the music, or returning the keg for another one, from another brewer, that is going to tap it, the same way you are going to want to tap that ass, regardless of the lingo, swag or the game you play.

You are not the first to have lived through keg stands, your experiences are not going to be “teaching” anyone about the brilliance of singing Ala-Zoomba-Zoomba-Zoomba, Ala-Zoomba-Zoomba-Warriooooooooooooooooor…yeah, sure I got the spelling wrong, or the sense of it off, but that is a skirt, and that is a pink poodle on it. Still part of the story right?

Yeah, it is. Trust me, I am the Fonz.

The shit that goes flying through the head, is just surreal. Blessed to still be able to remember it, and even more blessed to be able to have been prompted to think of it, by what?

A random interaction, with a guy that I have seen appear on the screen, with some funny shit, and a couple of shout outs between the REO Speedwagon slow song (*usually around the 40-60% stage of the party or the “dance” – this is the ideal stage to reach into the toaster, and see if you can turn that bagel toe around to get properly heated, because poppa has some creamed feta cheese and lambs wool locks for you Jena *yes, she was a public school crush ok, back when 45’s were not just the empty nested, divorced MILF code used in texts) and The Ice Cream Man by Van Halen (*seriously, if you thought of the Smith’s and having to adjust your broach, before going out and trying to bring a 747 into the dance floor gate, Air China styles, using the arms as your beacons of love, to the other ostrich over there in the corner – hey that’s cool, Max Fischer was a super achiever, I was the achiever, with the abide built in at the sub-atomic, bionic level) that you hear through the crowd, and see through the haze?

This has taken one hell of a wild set of turns, and as always, has inspired a whole lot of memories. That photo, is one truly priceless shot. You have no clue, but those two cats.

Wild.

So here is the small part of the announcement, some kind of social experiment of sorts, that had me collecting just hundreds of my favourite screenshots, of the funny and good tweeters. Some of the “wall of fame” stuff, that is really, to be considered maybe even Fetaman Museum quality.

Got to start somewhere, and what finer place than to begin a short list, of the folks that are the one’s deserving of mention…wait? Is that a list, like I can just make a list public on my profile, instead of here on the site? Why not just do that?

Firstly, because I don’t want to.

Secondly, because not everyone has Favstar, or the interest in “mining” through all of the pages, to get to the other good stuff. I am one good editor, all I have to do is consider the idea, and see where it leads.

Thirdly, because I am a pretty solid believer in karma, and when you make sure to bring some key folks to the forefront, to date based on the the sense of humour, writing, and interests, you have a better sense of the direction you are going, and have a keen sense of who and what you are going there with

I really will have no idea on who these people are, and what they will do, or how they will pan out in the longer run, I mean, I am back in the Twitter zone for but a couple of months here, and just starting to see how the cubes being Ruperted.

So I may not even proceed, I may just keep the list to myself still.

I am just one selfish keg hog I guess.

*abide*

 

Note: if you have taken the time to read that the magic word is “brinesanity”, and you tweet a S/O or #FF for me using that word, I will include you in the @fuqtarded list of profiles, and do a mock roast-profile. It is just an experiment to see how much interest there is, or if there will be more traffic to the site, but it’s worth a shot. Keep the dream alive, don’t drink and drive, smoke and abide. Also, loosen the fuck up with the RT’s and shit for fucks sake, they are not gold coins, they are shots you are offering up to folks. If they like ’em, cool. If not, more for those that do. What next, you are going to start eagerly waiting for a trophy to validate someone said something so good as to deserve the pixels?

*Hint: my first Top 10-ish list would have to include the likes of the folks listed on the @fuqtarded tab, on the site, right now.

By

Sunny, orange days

It is killing me.

Time.

Watching his mother with such fond abandon, he saw her bright side. She sat in her seat watching the day, and she came out of her anguish, to light for her children. She did not want it all, she wanted it for them, her sons. An only daughter, cause it had been burned into him.

So listen, to the song. Maybe you have seen some of it, in other cases, you might get it, those that can, understand speaking of the joy, watching a mother and her children share those special moments, on the train, as the traffic of time crawls never sawing a destiny call.

Shame little is done to see, in actuality, not the lies.

How it was. Never possible, but do come back like you do.

Accept this is the way it is, and the only thing you can do, is move forward. Day by day, with the love, and help of those in your life, left. Those that may or may not be there tomorrow.

Survival is for the timid, victory is a choice.

*abide*

Just hair, it causes migraines indicating some serious issues, seizures, and other of the "grooming" issues. Most solid abiders, will just go Feta Fu on Rizla Paper styles and smile right at people who stare. Right in the eyes. Never avoid the eyes.