fetaman.com

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

By

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.
None.

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.

*iAbide*

By

albedo fingertips

if when were orange, and her smiles made the cold not sit with me
diffusion reflecting the tangerine skin, a mind covering the inside rind
reflecting only what is seen on the flash of the question asked, a glance away
a door shut, with a will that is not of the making from the harvest to be
fired blood orange, citrus sting of an appeal in the cornea of the mind
Fuch’s tears to be saved for an arid desert, a way that is far, a wind that is near
catchpoll servitude that was in debt, default in her eyes
her albedo fingertips tracing an understanding that beneath the skin is so much more
still, we shame in the white that sits, a ruse for the muse
cruel temptress, no choice but to be comforted in the exhileration
the simple orange, smiled to bid the cold away, she sat with me
an angel, and her albedo fingertips saved my soul.

*abide*

*circa 2001, fetascape:mediterrainian
**enhanced, edited 2011-03 d

By

Trick Baby

Masterfully done, up there with the ranks of Able.
Well done, very well played.

Entertaining for a 5 minute look at the generations, and the media that led us here, sittin’ in a gulch, listening to the waves of foreign lands lull us to sleep, with dreams of sugar daddies lacing dreams.

Procurer, bringing the light about White Folks, from Blue Howard.

Potential is an incredible advanture story, and a calm spell is much different than a con one.

*abide*