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

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Andagram.

Kerouac said, “Great things are not accomplished by those who yield to trends and fads and popular opinion.” Although likely a great remix of thought from the past, his ability to bring it forward in a real way impacted many roads, for many miles, and many more to come. Truth is, he was smirking, and remains so in his grave, knowing of those who wish to start their own trend or fad, or be part of another one under another name for the sake of fame and glory, and some kind of worldly need. To be part of a machine, known or not – as oppressed as it sounds, I wonder if Animal Farm would agree?

Orwell argued, in his fantastic treatise that great things would only be accomplished through trends, and fads and fabrics that united the causes. Was he suggesting that this was contrary to what we believe as individuals is what make our jobs, and our pens whole, but in reality, we graze on the meadows of houndstooth walls and metallic lumber implanted with copper veins? Is the juice, that precious juice that travels with the nutrients fed back to the leaves that fall in the forest, and if so, does the NSA hear when they fall? Will my voice be heard, in the roar of all those united to occupy the malcontent of the minds and the masses before the Happy Hour at the ATM? Quick, trade the shirt for libations of conformity, but knock thrice – you won’t get in without the hair on the chin, unless o’er da ‘air a doig, um.

Syntax is supposed to be about pleasing another, and not the fury of your own mind. Correct it, move on. Enjoy, life is short. Of course, learn how long that life is based on the need to approve. They approve grammar now also, in most cases, unknowingly to lead the recipient to believe that logic can be induced from a non-comatose state, or a walking parish state. Prey.

Trust sharpened to the edge of a taint sickle. There once was a day I had more trust for the world that lay behind these screens, now filled with just another killer of time, with stars and search histories that will dictate what your divorce proceedings will look like. Fear not, divorces are like bad knees. We all get them, just in some cases, later or in different parts of our bodies. This is what age does, or creates. Like money and rust, it too never sleeps. I prefer time of the three but that is not something we can cook in a stew and sit around some Yorkshire pudding speaking of the great days your facade was not well masked, but few can know that. Keep me on the outside, I will only promise to look in when it is time for the knod. You will know. The tap will be faint, but the cards will not fade. They have been aware of the night as long as the days alchemy. Brother. Such a taint sickle.

Africa. The land of the madness, some kind of wild frontier. A land, where people have little of anything, and are grateful for it. I have a sense of calling there, perhaps as a final wish, it will be there I give myself over to helping in the only way that may seem just for a person who is of the cut I am. The line has taken a different angle, and the light dances in a new way, so I remain in a place to allow my hands to be but tools of a greater, selfless calling. Philanthropy does not require a black tie, or a tiny cocktail that has evaporated water. The water would have been consumed before it was given a chance to boil.

Nourishment. A small cafe you had to walk into hoping for the hamburger, or the fine salad. Looking to be able to satisfy the craving for the quick meal, something to pay over hunger with until the paving company came in to make it a more permanent mental decision. Then it becomes autonomous, like the lies. The proliferation of the manifestations that seem the entire dress together. Gown on a clown, send ’em in. We got to the show on the road. The left stage will enter first tonight, we have a Guyanese diplomat in the front row with a row of dates hoping he smiles at one of them. A diamond crusted box of McNugget’s is available for the winner, and she can choose whatever sauce of her fancy. The condition is easy. Sip or drip from the right box or straw, or keep your mind and remain a pauper in excise.

Tried, tested and laid to rest. Yes, I like that. It allows me the ability to sit like a modern Platonion. Layers peeling back the ability for you understand the context, the whole story, as I profess to but I have the right boards and can cast the magic spells with the cats, and the scammers and the delights. Yes, listen closely, or don’t listen and then come here one day, and see the “code” was just writing on the wall. The book. That is the tell all. That is where the real magic happens. It goes without saying, I have to thank all of those that have participated so far. The story is shaping up as nicely as the other houses, I just think my cards are little bit thicker, and I am well aware of math and origami. May I have the last brownie?

I really wonder what Umbrellahead is doing right now. Gus grabbed ’em. Fuck.

Nutella they said. It would stop the sun. You could blend in, look like a tourist that had moved there 17 years ago at least, trying to adopt to the island ways. It sounded like a good idea, and having read the book Black Like Me in grade 3, in French. Strangest part of the French classes were the curry smelling recorders we had to play. They floated in front of the curtain and you had to grab them quick, there was only one usually though. If more came they tended to taste and smell like socks. Odd. I was never good at the recorder. Hated it. Like having to put the Nutella back on every 5 minutes AND it has sand in it. Unless you are rich. I guess.

Oblectation. The enjoyment, the pleasure that came – was it worth it? Walk with a smirk. Bread. Wine. Fish fingers. Hear the lamentations of your weak geometry calculations before me. Clutch in. Grin. This is the path you take along the route of the festering cobblestone to profess a romantic love for the scratching, the plague and the dire times that seem so much better. Filled with the romance and flooded ways of the canals that are to bring the professed oars that break glass. Hydrogen twice, oxygen nice but puppy dog tails are not meant to be for amusement of spoiled or unattended domesticated apes.

*abide*

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The ultimate compliment

It will be the one that comes in the simplest form, and in fact is made that with the affirmation that you have enriched someones life.

You have left them better than you found them, and the heart of the matter this is that this simple present is not mine to have discovered, but rather the one I uncovered in my life and it was but a grain on the beach you all were part of.

It may sound like one fucked equation, but the integers, they were there with me, and the four years almost I have been around her, I have seen many that are part of the half the number of the Beast that is.

It was a small gift that did this today, and this is my gift to the ones that abiden even in the chastisicity that can be a board, you have been part of this.

So I thank you, and welcome you with open arms, only tenticles until you have been part of the ink.

My one real hope, is you all really give no shit about the haters, or the one’s in the gulch.

Do you not see all of them?

Them in the other gulch?

Wave, and stand tall, if you have made your life any better…do not be the cunt that eats two gyros for lunch and order water to flush out the garlic you just consumed in whatever the fuck you ate…your ass is that fat, and blaming the bag of honey roasted, sugar dripped peanuts you just ate is as futile as wondering how the fuck the corn in your life got chock full of corn…it just is, and you made it so.

The best part is that I appreciate the good, the bad, and the ugly cause the flickers on the screen are different unless all three parts appear.

So to you who have appeared, in all of you glory.

Welcome to the “whole”.

Not so bad if you are a fox in it, and you can find joy in being in it.

This is a taint grenade.
Pull the pin, grin.
Sin.

It is only such if you are a contrarian.

Me, I am the Greek boy who had dinner with his mom, to tell her how much she means to me on this, a glorious day in my year.

My saints day was the 21st, but then again, I have nothing to hide about failing to meet the qualifications of say’nt so.

It was Heleni that bore him, raised him and shaped him to what he is today.

It was really her that allowed me to become a man in this world, and for that, I am beyond pleased.

Thanks Joe, it was a great part of the day, a great part of the year. A great part of life. Yalc, blessings…ltb?

Just about how you look at it.

May our lives be richer for it all, but only if we are open to it.

I am.
That is why I have the smoking gun in my hand.

Look for the number of the beast halved, just add the fourth dimension because it be no digit, it be your dimension.

So walk it.

Smile with, fuck off with, kill…but enjoy it, cause that is what being human is all about…of course I would not know.

Afterall, I am just a piece of stinky cheese.

*abide*