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


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.




Stupidity, knot cot…

“In a closed society where everybody’s guilty, the only crime is getting caught. In a world of thieves, the only final sin is stupidity.”

Hunter S. Thompson



The Kleenex Directive

“You are the master of your own ship, pal. There are lots of people who fall into troubled waters and don’t have the guts or the knowledge or the ability to make it to shore. They have nobody to blame but themselves.”

Evel Knievel


Chong, M. Zidane

Chronic is not always about the good, it has to look at all aspects, and not just one to make weight.

It is about the wait, for the tide to come.

As it will, as willed.



Evel’s Heaven

“Heaven is a place you can go and drink a lot of draft beer and it don’t make you fat. You can cheat on your wife and she don’t get mad. You get a beautiful female chauffeur with nice, hard tits — real ones. There are motorcycle jumps you never miss. You don’t need a tee time.”

Evel Knievel


Sweet Buttertart


April 5, 2012 – fetaman candle Picasso mix


Shiny floors under your smooth pastry like heels

Clicking and clacking along the P.A.T.H

If only you knew how luscious your butter made me feel

Oh sweet buttertart, you make my heart do skipped beat math


I sought some air in the garden of concrete shadows and haste

Your scent tickled the nostrils and sent flatulent corporate dogs to bay

I wanted to leave creamy dragon paste on your face

Run along now little butter tart, this wolf will not bite you today


Sugary hips, gliding over the rack you dangle you hair off of

Internal filling, crème du fuqqin’ loveleh, so du fuqqin’ yummy song

Wanna have your poodle see the love dove?

Now there sexy buttertart, come see the magic chong…




Asshole for Rent

Never fucking easy being a hired gun.

People don’t give a shit – they know you are taking them for the most amount of money, because you know, you are handing your life and your reputation to them on the line – well, with one exception.

You are brought in to kill – them, or it – but kill.


Thought so.

You walk in this motherfuckin’ way, you do what you say.
Then there comes the day, time to make some hay.
You got nothing to say.
Old man, on your way.
Grab the towels from the floor.
Yeah, you got a floor.