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

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*

By

Goats don’t like Feta.

I came back from an appointment, none of any one particular business, but of many – not yours. Suffice it to say, I was in the orange and digging the gig.

It was the subway.

I know, what a piece of shit. Such a lowlife, I had to use the public transit system. Please, focus more on the word ‘has’ and the context you want to insert, for I have not inferred anything but the utterance of it…oh…wait…you have to assume, from the appearance of the clothes and my choice of public I am a common man.

A working man.

Usually on a discrete seat, with my ass hanging off of it – smiling, or with a tear in my eye because I am watching “Doubt Me” on this machine that let’s me see things, and create things sometimes.

She looks at me, and sees the tear.

I can not watch the video, and not cry.

This is true, as it is factus lebowskius that strong men also cry, twice. After periods. Real men, have to have 3 periods before they cry, but let’s not go there – sure, you consider me a pussy for your own story. Fuck you for judging it. You don’t know why – figure out your own reason. Real men also cry.

Her eyebrows cross – they knit into a small pattern and I go sit beside her. She has had a bad day, I am not too sure why, nor do I care. She has not asked me for anything, other than some kind of recognition of answering her human concern of why, transmitted in a code that goes back to caves and fire.

I say no words, I don’t want to.

I smile, obviously my goat has her disarmed. On occasion, lamb, but as of late goat.

Sitting on her left, I give her my left ear bud to a set of Bose earphones. She has no idea they are Bose, not that it will do anything for her greater than to allow her to listen to the soundtrack, and I ask her if she doubts me.

There is not a word that is exchanged, and she watches. Reads, her eyes will dart to me when she thinks she can breath between the music, and.

She does not.

Her tear proves it, as does her email. Her name is Janet, and she is a wonderful lady in a wonderful world.

If you look closely at the video, you will see her.

She is one of the grains of sand.

As am I.

As are you.

Believe.

You got the magic, and if anyone ever doubts it – even me – you make sure you stand motherfucking tall, sip back the shot of fucking right, and nail the motherfucking goat with some cosmic energy.

*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*

By

In the throw of it all.

Bottom line – yes, the content as is all here, and more to be attending to, but in a reply to some of the “generic” emails and requests, I will be posting more in the next days – but sorry, really pushing hard to get the final edit of the first book done/ready for release.

That means the promotions, the incentives – yes, that includes some actual “one hand washes the other, and both the face” give-a-way stuff including iFeta/Apple gear, online merchandise gift cards, access to other offers including the book/e-books – are “released” all for being around, and sending out the shout out/support.

More details are coming but you pretty much can get a head start by T/RT’ing stuff from the site that got your attention – just a little busier in the Gulch, in a great way.

Thanks for all of said support, please keep sending in notes and reaching out, here or on Twitter – the world’s are all colliding in the Peaks soon enough – dig the gig.

In the meantime, here are a couple of cuaste* links that have not been “mentioned” enough or promoted to date/yet/recently and are worth the read and the travel through the linked content within the post.

“Crazy is asking them if there is time to lick the pin after they pull it out.” – Gus

One love, much of it.

*abide* 

 

The ultimate compliment.

Bytoine.

Mean culpa.

Concubine clauses.

Gus’s Overture.

All-incusive F.C. Lodge.

Context smirk.

Feeling good.

Mysogynistic windows.

How deep is your love?

*no order, just something to get you maybe wandering around the site a little more – might be the reason you are here, to say hello – start a new chain reaction in your life. go ahead, pull the pin – it’s just a belief grenade. don’t try.

By

Stapler, used to gather paper with a single bind.

“You would get sick of any stapler, any desk…any dream. You would, and if you haven’t, then you are not alive.”

Gus, it’s his biography. Just like the brineday, and the second period after the.

Catch up.

The videos tell some of the tale, the rest is in the head.

Whose, well…

that is to be seen…

or read.

But go ahead, ask yourself that question – if you could, would you? What if it was not really a long standing dream, so much as some kind of kick, from some ingested invisible brown acid?

What if that involved saying fuck it to that fucking piece of shit chow lung tool, near the faux walls and the artificial boundaries? Truly doing it past the bar stool, past the bullshit, pulling the trigger on something you only chirp about having the balls to do? What if that was just something that had to be done?

What if you knew, nothing then of what the real meaning of orange grass was?

Really, not as simple as it sounds…according to Gus, who has agreed to tell his tale.

The regularly scheduled episodes of life will proceed for myself, Fetaman – some form of them, is always around.

But I must admit, I am personally fascinated with Gus.

Not your typical Gus.

“You have never lost it in a Bored meeting, until you have shown them genitalia flesh tones.”

Gus fed me that one, I got to give him credit, I agree – what a difference a vowels stroke makes.

The conspiracy, and the tales.

As real as I have ever seen, but please, take that for what it is worth – hell, I am just a walking cheesy pseudonym man. Just a guy, rolling along the gig man.

The toll is the ignorance we pay, forgetting to live the moments so you can count the lines on the highway. How many lines in My Way? Frank’s and Gus’s seem to match up, mine.

Diluted in brine.

Own ’em, at your own pace. It’s not a race…is it…

*abide*