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

By

12:24 *active

AWI – mission engaged.

“In the name of The Gathering…”

Never was about how thick

Never was about how thick Todd was, it always appeared as though he was able to take it. Sure, he got angry, and was eccentric, reclusive – but he was happy when he wrote, when he told tales of the Fan, or the Clauses, the windows. To that smell of all that is alive, regardless of the season, the reason or the treason. Act according to self, the dice merely are advisors of restricted mind.

Almost past Angry, comes right after a bullshit cousin, Depression – you know, Depression is the weak one, Anger comes along and tells him to fuck off pretty quick. Then the sequence of events for a ‘real man’ is the arrival of the next one, this one a brother – Motivation comes and smokes a doobie with Anger, and he chills out and turns into his alter ego – Inspiration.

What is messed up, is that some people have that family and relationship thing all wrong. They are not ones that have chosen Depression, they lived through a life with it as a brother, or sister…this is a shame.

The choice, is now their own, and they are either going to break away from the curses of the heritage, or they are going to finally break free and choose to turn those things into distant memories of a family life gone bad, or the misfortune of fate on their professional lives, or the lacking of a true love – yes, all challenges, and all things we have all come to face at one point in time or another, and often in pairs, if not in random chains of connection that further fragment the epicenter of our lives.

No, one is to rise to the challenge of the day ahead, and has to bear witness to the misery of a dark night, or worse yet, an eternity of them strung together in the minutes that ticked by without you being near ‘her’, or ‘loved’, or able to make that million ‘dollars’.

Fuck it.

What the hell are we waiting for? Some kind of meteorite shower of solar system minerals smashed together like a plunger of rock and shit?

Nope. Not anymore, the time is now, and the day is today.

We all know this, and then struggle to get free from the bonds of the social stigma that accompanies these gyrations of fate, but some of us, no longer want to bear the cross of this chant uttered by the masses at their pews of disdain, and harsh, bitter bite from the poisoned tinge of another apple that was infected with cubicalitus sporeboredomii, a rancid parasite of global proportion, so much so, it has become what the everyman seeks…or so some say…

There is good healing and rejuvenation in the spirit and in the mind, when one is able to harvest from these fields of desperation, the seeds of tomorrow. Wild abandon be gone, these seeds are being planted again, and I am going to make that a field to believe in. I am going to have to get through some mud to do that, but I am going to do it.

I just don’t know when.

I do know how, but somehow, the sum is not the same.
Silly.

I know.
But then again, so do you.

So I am making this call to action a loud one, and a definitive one.

101012N – The Gathering

*abide*

By

To relatives.

The entire series, was almost a decade ago. You expect me to sit here, and be passive as my name and effort is slandered – I watch my own parade sunshine, your escapades are for others to deem interest worthy, or note scurvy. I stand by what I write, how I write, and for whom. Anyone, questions always welcome. You stare at the cover and wonder what the words mean, but I can’t hear what you’re saying. Then again, more than likely, I could give a fuq to hear it. *jar rattles*

Enthusiasm is relative. Not a relative. Make the mistake of thinking that you are married to some kind of blood kin, that is supposed to come rushing out of you like unbridled enthusiasm, and deep breath – and you are cooked.

Some like to take things to a point, and then are willing to walk away from them, even when there is residual value in them, they have become so exasperated by the struggle, but the effort, by the cause that may or may not have been treated with the fair and right regal attention it deserved, but then again, that is what has allowed us today to capitalize on the failures of the past.

The lessons they learned, from succeeding to move the bar, or the ones that were failures inspiring a new line of thinking, all the way to the one’s that have allowed us to see man truly flying on his own. In the air, on a prayer.

For the thrill, for the purpose.

To not be away from it. To peer at the thrill of it all, and know that life is worth living only when the seize of insomnia ask for no permission they know will never be granted.

Life is precious, in any regard.
Wake the fuck up and live it.
Today.
Now.

You are in a position that is “close to the edge”?

This is where success, separates from “them” who stand on the edge and don’t jump for the thrill.

Fucking pussies.
I was there.
Once.

Many times actually, but that is a collective once now.

The Man in the Arena, “if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”

I will not stop daring.
I will not stop trying.
I will not allow someone to just smirk at the sand.
I will not abide.
I will not try.

(licks pin on brine grenade, filled with belief every morning upon awakening, I carry it on me at all times, and reloads are always near by)

Each particle, each fragment – united, it becomes a greater force. A clearer image, filled with the pixels of purpose and the thorns to be rested on the weary head that must shield their eyes, their orifices, their very souls from the cerebral tsunami before them.

That is ok sunshine, stay in the concrete tent.
That is where your God has asked to stay, serve the rebar.

If you mix your effort with cloak, it will go awry He said, and still you decided to press. Remove the caramel and sugar coated textile from the tin, and dance with the sure grin on the fluoride tainted taste provide by the Machine.

Follow at your own will, and under your prowess.

Blessings, once aboden, become surety.

Bounties on the soul, with actions and flaming fuqtardation to espouse matrimony with mental mavericks or midgets.

Listen, to the call of the loon.

Disturbance or peace, is a reflection which remains, and always shall be – relative.

To health, happiness and prosperity – the last of which, is fully defined by ourselves. The old chicken, has the juice.

What kind of side dish you want served with that corn bread, ma’am.

*abide*