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


Happy Birthday to…

What an incredible odyssey.

It has been a year since the site officially became mine.

I had waited over 8 years to be able to get past all of this, and before that – you have no fucking clue.

You think I am not aware of what is “out there” – and what the “lines look like”…really?

Do you think a plan, that has been made for decades, even a lifetime if one considers it, is really just something that simply happens?

You have the sleuth ability to start to get hooked, and like the heroine town you may exist in, or the hero mind you do, you are addicted to taking it to the next level.

To finding out more, to getting past the reality of Survivor, and the fake fucking bandana’s and the bullshit positioning from Day 1 – “I am just here to make some friends, I am so naïve, I am so strong, I am so fucking smart, I am so fucking stupid…oh look, a tortoise with a hare on his back…do they even have hair…”

I know who the fuck fetaman is.

Pretty fucking proud of it as well, because I know it all – except for you.
You are the know it all I want to meet.
So does Gus.

He is interested in beginning to introduce himself over the next few weeks.
His biography is coming out.

Pretty fucking impressive, and having had the chance to not only interview him, but also having been given the chance to verify accounts, eyewitnesses and documented proof.

One of the strangest, oddest, brightest, most eccentric, gifted, smart, angry, loving, caring, compassionate, valiant abiders I have ever known.
If not the single greatest…

Gus runs on his own time.
So do I.

It is a birthday celebration and it is combined with a publishing. What more could anyone ask? I mean, seriously – what a long strange trip, and where are we still? Yes, just seeing some of the invisible brown acid come to life. A special K of sorts.

The biography, the story, of Gus…

Don’t expect synchronicity.

This is a delicate operation, and if you want to be part of it.

Welcome to it – you can either RT this link, direct with the question included, or you can #orangegrass it up, either is a chance to ask Gus, and I can assure you, he will answer.

Celebrate or don’t.
Trust me, this has nothing to do with hunching over anything – not a typewriter, not a water tray, not some village code, not a table of weed, not a set of bullets, not a conspiracy of shades that are something new…

I know.
Hard to believe.

Trust me.
I fucking know.

It doesn’t matter though.
Cause the clock, the watches – the story of Gus.

It becomes clearer with each passing day, and in the coming 30 days, how many and when are just beside the Fuqu Pyramid, just take a coat hanger and levitate near it.

There is a whole year to explore behind this, and there is much more for myself.

Being an interviewer, is one interesting experience.

Care to play?

fetaman/ _

*truly a wonderful, gracious humble bow today – humility asks for, and asks no excuses, for it too…*abides*

****this is where I insert my own happy birthday to fetaman.com – for the real fetaman, from the real fetaman, with a background heralded by associates. Go ahead, link from the site – fill in the question, I promise. I am pretty sure Gus would answer most honourable, logical and discretion sensitive inquiries. To the point of the dedicated box that is running the code – the rest, my…look…a shiny set of keys. Oh wait, it may be a text…did that arrive? No, must be a lonely time, grab the flash light…only 45 metres across the way…no, the...the way…

*************Yes, this is 13 of them, is that “code” also.

*******Gus thinks so.



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.




Feeling good

Birds flying high you know how I feel
Sun in the sky you know how I feel
Breeze driftin’ on by you know how I feel

It’s a new dawn
It’s a new day
It’s a new life
For me
And I’m feeling good

Fish in the sea you know how I feel
River running free you know how I feel
Blossom on the tree you know how I feel

Dragonfly out in the sun you know what I mean, don’t you know
Butterflies all havin’ fun you know what I mean
Sleep in peace when day is done
That’s what I mean

And this old world is a new world
And a bold world
For me

Stars when you shine you know how I feel
Scent of the pine you know how I feel
Oh freedom is mine
And I know how I feel

*Feeling Good, Nina Simone


Sitting around making sure, that the feeling of the good is all about what I am going to be getting out of the words that you may. Sitting here, feeling like all of those things, just opens up a dictionary of words and functions that will all blend into some kind of magical matrix that is to be instantly understood and read by all, like the light of day flashing on the pavement that is pounded on the way to the destination.

Whatever that may be for you.

For me, it involves having to get through another day of hardship, in my own way, no different than yours. Struggling to find the reasons why I need to stay on the right path, and do the right thing. Maintain the fluid flow of a bunch of lies that are painted to make other’s feel like I am well, so I do not have to startle them or make them feel any less at odds with the way I am feeling. I wonder, when I finally die, will there be a reflection on these words and some kind of somber sadness that comes with knowing those days could have been spent better, and not driving one away from the reflections, but embracing them with a smile like you would a lost brother.

Someone, that may have been the closest friend you ever had in the world, that really supported you through some of the worst times in the world, and now you stand with what you believe are but a handful.  A collection of three, or four that comes with the maternal love and friendship I can only hope you enjoyed as I did, despite the challenges that come with a mother that has her limitations. Like we all do. The limitations of how far you can take a friendship, or how many you can really hold.

How far, you will really hold on to the thoughts of yourself, before you allow another to force you into the conformity that will not allow you to really be? You do not want to spend your life alone, you must find someone, else you will be a failure. You will not have attracted a butterfly to carry your dust to another.

How far back, will you go into the family history, and question the madness of an alcoholic parent  hoping it is finally solved, will tomorrow be any different? Will I find love from his memory then, knowing it is finally exposed – or will the truth expose the lies and beget the questions of why another would still carry them forward in some kind of lies?

You choose, to occupy your mind with the many thoughts that  you do, that I do, that we do, for a reason. For the intention of coming to some kind of conclusion or decision, to make the day a better one. To flow with it, and keep it on the course of the pleasant and beautiful world. The surrounding of oneself with the glorious meadows and the fantastic streams, like the song. Above. In the link. Like the hundreds of links on the site, and in the writings, that I am sure many have not seen. Perhaps they can’t.

It is hard to see the forest from the trees.

Six degrees of separation on that one, and I can tell you I got at least a dozen of each that flashed through the mind prompting me to take another direction, and move to another stream of thought, of consciousness. Awareness. I really don’t know, I let the fingers type. Most of this, remains unfiltered. That is to say, it speaks of the questions and in the way I do. Not intended for the weak of spirit, because I am not weak of spirit. Not because it is meant as some kind of elitist thing that has me be better than anyone else.

I am not, I am convinced, I am an idiot.

This does not make me a fool, and neither does it facilitate me suffering them.

Unless I want to, like you do. Like you want to keep reading to find out that the rivers carry the shit and refuse of the mind as well. They are not all golden ponds. They are complete eco-systems of sorts, with a busy and passing glance seen to be so calm and tranquil, but in the deep recess, we are told in literature and alike, carved into the rocks the messages of the ages screams of the science behind it all, and still we see only the top of it.

We think the songs meaning have a different meaning than they may, when we really examine them.

Like asking, and expressing how I did earlier this week, to an “aunt”, a “thea” (thee-ah, Greek) that is a dear friend of my mom’s, in the Greeklish neighbourhood she lives in. I know, there is a lot of the Big Fat Greek Wedding imagery is going to be going through your mind. Rightfully so, there is a lot of it. I wish so often I had a perma-video camera going some of this stuff is just priceless so I write about it.

In our discussion, we spoke of a myriad of things, astrology, living with illness, the hardships of life, always such hard and life lesson discussions with the older Greek moms it seems, but there is great sunshine and love as well, not always somber in the depth, but can be, and we got into the discussion of how people will naturally choose to remember happier memories, and often, these will be associated with the happier people.

This does not mean we are not going to have bad memories, actually have some good parts within them, or contribute to the good in the learning of why bad must exist in an effort to not only magnify but more importantly allow people to realize. We will. But we will naturally gravitate away from reflecting on those as often as we may, when we think about the best friend, or the great girlfriend. Perhaps your spouse, or parent. A lost child.

If we have suffered a hardship in losing one of those types of relationships, at a time in our lives that is essentially the time to lose them, we will always remember those good times in the grief. It will be our selfish lust for the positive, and the emptiness that it occupies now alone, that causes us to feel the anguish.

My best friend, was tragically taken at a young age. In his late 20’s. A great man, a big part of my life and my learnings, and a frequent visitor to my biography at that time in my life, and even today. I miss the good laughs, and the genuine lust for life he had, and how he looked at it. Each day, a laugh, or a lesson is smirked at as I raise my fist to the sky, or smile and tell him to fuck off. More often than not, I look down and allude to him keeping the beer cold down there for us, and make sure mine is a redhead. He always knew I had the redheaded chick.

Every day.

My father, not the case. I tend to avoid thinking of him. When I do, it may be because of the reasons why I want to avoid going into the deep part of the river. It is cold, and shitty, and may have some predators that I am not aware of, or just do not want to deal with. Of course, there are times when you have to go.

Because you have to catch and kill that thing. It has been destroying the tranquility, it has caused the notes of the song to seem heavier, as opposed to a wonderful melody that may be the first dance. Just the two of you. You could only be on that beach, dancing with her, if you got to pass that part of the river. If you love her, you will pass it.

If you love your love yourself, your life, you will know that there is nothing you can do about that parts of the river. They are created by a greater being, or force, and you must accept that whatever that brings, you will adapt to it and follow the natural flow.

You will appreciate the lifecycle of the things we look at. We will buy a bag of unicorn shit to much on, hoping it will make life’s problems all seem solved and grand.

But we will not respect the statements of those that come to a wonderful place of comfort, and confidence in accepting the hardships.

Not as a welcome hardship, but as a reminder, a poke a prod to wake the fuck up and live. To realize that each day is a blessing, and that even if one chooses to spend those days writing, or discussing things that may seem so out of the ordinary for some, that it is still part of a larger system.

A larger whole, that in and of itself, creates their own holes.

Rabbit. Black. Fox. Ass.

Making of them, whatever you want.


Nope not miserable, not even going to try to pretend however, that I am filled with some kind of magical radiance either. It may be a good idea to try to project that, I hear it get’s some real “genuine” followers and friends on Twitter, or might get you a decent presentation at the peach festival in Phukit, Thailand.

Hey man, I am not judging.

Just commenting on another part of the system.

I refuse to pave my paradise with recycled dreams.

I will let it be.





“If you don’t know about pain and trouble, you’re in sad shape. They make you appreciate life.”

Evel Knievel


Pray she Said

So I did…




Sexcamelus Abidus and dirty water…

“Cucumbers, it is a know fact, that it turns women on.  Use Cucumber juice.”  *paraphrased, from Redemption Inc.

Sexcamelus Fetapoulos, Years ago, wrote a very wild piece on this concept, and have been batting it around for years, so now is the time to unleash some of it, and ensure that other pieces are given the chance to actually attract some more interest. you think it is just the acid in life that makes me keep changing from feta, to camel, to an abide monk. no, just life in and of itself being a trip.

She had to wonder. Would the camel’s magic cucumber help her find company. She was over joyed. It was a sexcamelus abidus on the horizon, filled with feta and joy. At long last, an oasis had company.

yeah, a sex camel sure to fuck don’t turn his nose up at dirty water. it is also known as the sexcamelus abidus, if it can have the girth and strength of extra storage for some cheese. usually a brine like cheese, creating powerful feta juices of great splendour when the days heat and arid rays seek salvation.

as long as it walks the way it should, it will all be all right.

always is.





What do you do in the arena?

I have taken great lengths to make sure I hold my head up high. Through all of the sick beats, beating the sick, and just being.

How do you cope with the insanity of the mental midgets? When you see this pleeb of a fuck annoying your space, do you crush, or walk away knowing this means nothing to you?

When there is direct harm, do you inflict death upon the lowly mosquito for trying to take your blood? It was instinct, and so, is the capital punishment based on the instinctual kind?

What do you say when the harm is unintentional? There was good always in spirit, but the path that was chosen is lacking the outcome you sought?

Do you cut the ties, and move on?

Do you hold on to be able to make that change, or cut that field to still get to the right destination?

Do you slowly, patiently wait for the chance to come back, and deliver the abide?

Yes, you do.

In each, the answer is yours and with that answer comes your path.

Follow it.

It is the right path.

Just walk long and hard.
But walk.

Some people call it running.
Others call it risk.


Both are four letter words.

Roll it of your tongue.
The way you say it, is the way it is.



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.



Shit talk

I sit here out of respect, and pray you learn.

Just a filtered foto filled with fuqit

I have all my life believed in free speech, and to a degree you do not believe.

However, in front of children…bad. Sri lankin, we are all.one people, and in front of children you strive to teach, and in front of families you have invested time and profit into, and you slur silent consonents about slaves and names.

I will wait in silence, just as this day was and my eyes saw the look of what men spoke of and – agreed, there is no place here for that hatred.

There is only will.

Where there is will there is way, and in silence you will see actions of madness.




Holiday Inn Bowl, That One Cooze, "never will ones life be the same after their wives were bigger tramps than known..."

Really, there is douche.

Age is not indicative of maturity, or surety.

Hockey Rink Mesh Nipples (*HRMN, enhanced by genetic upbringing north of Barrie) are great, but you need some fibre behind the mesh.

The word “like” is annoying as fuck.

Do not use teeth as jagged erection killers, they are meant to be like the wire fingers of a head scratcher over the Barney colored shield of Popcanus Multiplegiverus.

Feet – wash them, one day they may be the ruin of a great dive. Seriously, the distance is cut in half when down on knees, do you think they won’t stink?