fetaman.com

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

By

Crumble.

Imagine there was this class you went to, and you had to pick some folks.

There was venereal disease all about, and it was weird. Folks spoke about the shit around them in the glowing colors that had nothing to do with the canvas that lay in front of your eyes, but you had to play nice. This was going to be a “course” with a random, pay-as-you-go group of Stephanie Things (*when and as they showed up, some having to fight off the hoard of crabs that crept into the sheets with their purported spouse, but the lawnmower blade had nothing to do with it) – these were my judges.

One judge mattered though, with this flare of fear and hope – counting until the end of days that the fee would have been paid in full, and a digression counted on some parchment marked as an error. This was history, we must stay relevant – follow my bird.

It was not.

He knew full well, there would be a push.

Back.

So, here.
Grab the golf ball from the blow hole.

All bullshit right?

Some fucking things have rewards that are not judged by the character you choose to put on the page, but the one you choose not to.

Funny.

Other things also have the ability to not run out like a man having tasted the bull before the cow comes home with the fresh beans, but hell, I don’t conform.

The ivory keys, tell me that got the three lines.
Two vertical, one whore-ee.
Is that how I spell it, or was my grammar the hammer?
Like naked and baked?

Fuck off.

I spent no less than 2 hours, on each piece, some over 3.
That was 40 plus hours – BEFORE – the gig.
Notes – lines – thoughts.

Really?

Fuck off.
Fuck right off.

It will be changed.
Will changes all.

How it is measured – well…sunshine.

Start counting.

*abide*

By

Die. Cot. Ah, me.

The wonderful world of alliteration.

The pageantry of being able to see the defining moments of the world that is seen to be so clear, and crisp to some, but clouded to others.

Some by choice have had this path thrust upon them, as a reward for the vengeance that they sought to take on anything that was to control them. The parrot speaking to the wooden dummy, a host of the outcast misfortunes that led him along the seizure, a salted taste on the good days when there was a river of it on his tongue, hydrated for a moment as a man should be walking the piles.

Around we see the badges of accomplishment, flare that is presented to stress our importance and want for an acceptance or a call. We see people that will lie and cheat, not to preserve some kind of mental challenges they may face or the hardships of their lives, but more so to flee the horror of their own choices. Leaving a path of almost undetectable traces to the naked eh, to another – it is a clear presentation of the fraud that they presented, and in time they will get to enjoy the fruits of their labours.

Bitter or sweet is not only a sub routine of the season alone.

It is a parcel of the package that was delivered to the senses, and then tasted with the intent of the day.

My heart bleeds for the challenges here, and the reality is much different than anyone could imagine – unless they had walked a mile in my shoes. It would be a slow walk, for many reasons. I would hope we could pause a little, and gather some thoughts from the fields beside us. It is hard to believe, but I am going to prove that the grass is orange, and that is the truth.

Whether other’s want to see it or not, will not matter to those of us that do.

The site is not dedicated to selling anyone anything.

There is no beggar here that is pleading for some kind of hand out, or screaming that there is a way for you to make those lovely pumps shine with so much love if you lose 10 lbs. or wear this floral print propaganda.

I am more than happy to hoist an ale, or smoke a smile or two with you.

I really don’t care who you are, just know who you are.

Stand and take pride in that, regardless of the adversity that you made it through.

The complexity of philanthropy is not an easy one to understand for ourselves, let alone for others.

It is always your choice, and you can smile knowing you did what and how for a reason.

But that reason, is all mine.

These, are just the spilling syllables of the tales I tell, and the life I have lived.

Two spreadsheets and a microphone.

Listen, and you can hear the fuq’s given.

Understand if it was a fuck that was important enough to be saved, or one that was entered in the alliterative form of modern day gladiators entering their own arena of stupidity to do battle with the legions of the fucks that will pander to the machine for want of being accepted.

Stand tall, and know when one is proven to be real – not some fictional picture, or some false prophet on radio speaking the words of his kind.

Real – then you can get more than the nickel.

But those dollars you took, they have another toll that has to be paid.

If you listen closely to the complex symphony, the overture – you can hear the sound of the timpany drum in the forest.

Here it was, thinking that no one would listen.

No one cared enough.

It was not the cost of the beer, or the flavour of the weeds. It was not the gester that would be seen as anticipatory, earning one the right to get a pre-release of the book he was penning on that corner. He was a broken man, broke by the standards of the society that many thought were just to judge him. There his riches were of another kind, here the multiplied in force. In purpose, in a tense capacity moving naturally.

They had come from the heart, because they had been touched. Like walking around the corner and touching the pavement, anxious to see the man who had a story for every day.

Many days, there was no day without his stories. It was merely a stretch of the same composite construction of lame office humour and a desperate hiding spot until Ollie has had enough time to ponder his weak mule as an ox. It was a sad circus, and the man knew it. But he had to find something in his day that mattered, and so he came and listened. He thought no one else would.

You did, and that – has made all the difference.

*abide*

By

Fact: Equity in fraud pie is free.

It doesn’t matter why I got here, I am here. So accept it. It is a wonderful place. The grass. It is fucking orange man. Regards, Gus.

— Fetaman (@fuqtarded) April 23, 2013

  • Formation skydiving piece
  • Facts or fiction?

*the waiver is the fictional side of the clause, and what you want to make of it. This story has been included within “The Equation” with one intention in mind. To have you consider each of the following quotes, as the main “lessons” or discussion points as I am not a teacher, I am merely an observer and providing some “fiction” for you to consider as real or not.

What you do with it, and where you want to go with it – that will be the truth. Only that is going to set you free, like telling the truth from my perspective, and how some things just happened to be – so why not, a fictional take on what was a very lucid dream.

  • “Honest criticism means nothing: what one wants is unrestrained passion, fire for fire.” – Henry Miller
  • “Fame is a vapor, popularity is an accident, money takes wings, those who cheer you today may curse you tomorrow. The only thing that endures is character.” Horace Greeley
  • “Kites rise highest against the wind – not with it.” – Sir Winston Churchill
  • “Politics is the art of controlling your environment.” – Hunter S. Thompson
  • “I have feelings too. I am still human. All I want is to be loved, for myself and for my talent.” – Marilyn Monroe

So close, one would be able to almost touch it – if they dare.

No need to worry, their whole world was a silly series of clouds and manifestations of things that had one set of senses tingling, while another entirely went the way of the electronic transfers and where it goes from there – no body knows.

If you have been invited to review a copy of this subset equation, you have been given an invitation to extend a hand and help out. Provide more of a lending hand, and do some diligence yourself. This has a great deal of importance for any interested 3rd parties, and I suggest you consider some of the characters at a deeper point of brooding should you choose to extend the invitation more. As for professional interests, examined on a case by case basis.

People will automatically remove a foreign social atmosphere participant using tools to keep timelines and data clean, but will not take a little bit of time to “dismiss” the whole concept of what and why certain things have happened, and I sit here the humbled fool? Perhaps if I were busier, and did not care- I do care right?

Oh wait, you are under the impression – good place to be.

Perhaps my “wealth” is not what it once was thought of as such? One thing for certain – the methodology, and the manner by which these teams accomplish what they do is indeed a spectacle in and of itself, and should be applauded at the same as it is lauded.

This is the world that we are living in, and if the example cuts a little too close it is because you are in no way, shape or form able to form the real cognitive thought to see it for what it really is, and I ask for your forgiveness.

Whichever of the two pills you choose to take, is your own, and I shall not judge you for it.

Never mind the two foot tall rabbit, he is with Alice.

She is “elite”.

The whole scam and how it works, from tip to tail, and the way that certain tax loopholes and organizations will be set up to run this way, and allow people to make money in other ways.

It is only you, if you make it so.

You should leave the star if it matters, if it does not, it was not meant to stay.

Either way we can not all be responsible for everyone, we first must be true to ourselves. That is why you see me “avoid” certain people now.

Liars, gossip mongers – cowards…all of them fools. and I the greater for making the choice to pick up their book. So I choose not to.

That does not make me cruel, but rather prevents another cruelty – and that, that is the greater good.

 *abide*