madafact

[madafact]

for the worms..

i have been to the other side, and it is muddy.

so a year is creeping up on us and what a year it has been. like crusty, iron stained sheets from conceiving with a virgin, a future lays somewhere in the mix. surely a few cumstains to paint the picture, and eventually a divorce, a new Instagram account, and a change of hair color... WHY NOT?

sorry...

ill get off my literary masturbation station and get to stepping with a catch up. today is may 4th, I am in my van In San Diego. here is how and why I got here..

losing Anthony only began the intertia of losing most of what I call people. friends, family, familiarity. its all gone into the cultural soup ripe with cyanide and other long sleep inducing ingredients.

terrie is barely hanging on. her 93rd birthday is on June 8th and that's when she is choosing to call the reaper. her party of all the years is coming, and you're not invited...don't worry, neither am I.

i asked Gregg to kick out the renters, to me its inappropriate that they live in the house of a dying old woman. but again, I was told to get the fuck out..lol. having strangers by your dying bedside is the stain on the bone china that just keeps giving.

gregg is a fucking wreck, an absolute lost aimless, swinging at air screaming at clouds, blaming his son kind of wreck. jaws of life have no purpose here, there will be no grateful set of lungs retrieved from this mess.

i cashed out my retirement to be able to survive, after spending nearly $7,000 on getting Anthony's things back from New York and the subsequent sheep dog guarding of his memory. but money is not the crucifix. love and support are the nails putting me up against this cross.

all I wanted ever was a place to call home. the feeling of not having to fight to feel welcome, a willing invitation is literally the call of the wolves, signaling a meal is slowing down its escape. I can't explain to you how promoting love in the halls of despair only causes the inhabitants to slam their doors shut, locking each subsequent lock with more force than the last. a small way to show you a massive fuck off, you're not welcome.

terrie used to have a house filled to the ceiling with shit. each room a pyre of UNOPENED letters, coupons to closed stores, and I'm willing to bet the skeleton of some poor creature who was mistaken thinking it was a shelter. Anthony and I literally tackled this monolyth over many years, slowly digging our personalities out from the weight of shame. why else would you bury your feelings, and physical body?

so long story short, I have a massive landing spot for trauma and anxiety and it comes in the form of cluttered areas, UNOPENED letters and trash. gregg chose to move all of his trash, failed correspondence and hopes and dreams right into that spot. essentially telling the child inside of me, YOU ARE NOT SAFE.

so sitting in my van in San Diego I find myself baffled. I lost my brother to careless menial people and now alcohol is targeting what ever is left. no invitations to Costa Rica, no notions of bar grand openings. I wonder what Anthony thinks of his "friend group" now?

i feel farther from Anthony when put next to these people. I feel like Anthony gave less than two fucks about me. now with all this familial self immolation its been proven. poor Anthony was just an object, even to his own father. an idea. a cause. not a person screaming out for love.

so, before I start my next verbal litter box, I'll tell you the end.

terries dying,

gregg has prostate cancer and drinks daily.

the house in oceanside is in jeopardy more than its ever been.

and I'm in my van by the side of the freeway in san Diego.

as Anthony drifts farther and farther into the ether...

love you

miss you

forever.

[madafact]

post addendum

something drew me here, morning fog, or merely just a lonesome flame. a notion to provide end point context for just how awful this book was.

ive said it before, and written it plenty, at some point I would publish a book (or a few) throw it on the ground and piss on the burning pages. well kids here are. I'm whipping out my dick because the first few pages have the licks of flame, the spine is cracking and I'm full of abv.

how am I? how is anything? how does a forest feel when getting clear cut? how does a river feel once the water is collected calm under the shadow of a dam. I feel like that. I feel pain but on the time scale of evolution, I feel like an app that keeps crashing. for those of you who are allergic to pollen. my charging ports are all loose from being casually tossed onto the bed, after the magic wears thin.

i deleted my Instagram, for myself, for anthony, and for all those who thought they were going to get a free ticket to watch my demise. not today satan, not today. subsequently I haven't heard from the wind. the grapevine requires an internet connection, and a two factor authentication. but you're still not real...

i think I came here to say I'm okay. I'm okay with the weight of the past and the people in the shoes making the weight, let them wander into their other realms. the masters brothers became an idea, a time in place, and mostly just another appetizer for the hoarding fat cultural vampires currently conducting the show. if love is real, it finds a way, a place, a person, an idea, a cause. and these days I wonder where love resides. not with me, not with Instagram, not with the past.

somewhere over those bleeding hills. or rainbow, I guess its all a matter of perspective.

heres a good joke

you want to get in touch?

b r e n d o n m a s t e r s @ g m a I l . c o m

[madafact]

kid drawings

coming here feels weird. like this room i dont like attending, or even knowing it exists. in this strange digital pasture, there are a bunch of strange shapes. weird figures, and it seems someone scratched into the thick air.... a whole lifetime of sorrow. it just floats there. unaffected by wind, or dust. rain or snow, it holds on to what it knows. the weight of the knowledge, life is perpetual struggle. chosen or given. you will get the notice.

my phone is as quiet as it has ever been, i deleted my instagram for good. the weight of all these new eyes strangely forced me into dance monkey dance! even passed that, i dont hear from many people. people i thought were friends, people i knew i didnt like. people i havent talked to in real life. they all keep the same distance i suppose nurtured by my instacide. well, the truth is i am okay with it. until humans can see why this would could operate in a different manner. ill leave them their social media. i think i want to be left alone for the rest of what ever this ride will entail.

from here on out i think ill pick up the pen, and give this pecking sensation a rest. it feels nice when im raging intoxicated but the healing nature eludes my muscle memory.

i miss my brother. nothing will ever take his place. the rest of my life will be stuck on the shores of a massive black or maybe blue hole, with the ever growing curiosity of where it goes.

mulch love <3

[madafact]

...but why are you here?

today was a day. a long day filled with lifetimes, and the whole kit and kaboodle.. the divorce, the child, the innocent victim and the disillusioned hero seeking soft revenge. a truly fucked up day.

the kind of time where the future comes and spends time, and is kind. providing a optimistic, helpful curious insight...

and then the past comes

im drunk, and that sentence just whirled my whole keyboard sight.

like i might puke on this computer.

today hurt, thats all...

[madafact]

sunrise text

colors can be signs that bleeding can be unique. bleeding into someone, or something. an idea already established but maybe needing a little something. bleeding into, bleeding ontop of, bleeding right next to. our little bandages and our little wraps, attempting to stop the bleed. the process of my life, sifting into yours, sometimes overtaking, sometimes complimenting, sometimes unnoticed.

my colors spread out and tie dye the next person, staining them with color, painting them with blood, hashtagging them into relevance for the social pool of blood. rivers and rivers and tributaries of blood. for drinking, for the sinking, and obviously for you to spread on your toast.

iron, iron, and more iron. clotting like butter before your very lips. hemoglobin and platelets, plasma and donations. replacements, and synthetics. heart rate over heart race.

[madafact]

soft eyes

my dog looks at me with gentle notions. cautious critiques and proximity that always reminds me criticism can be comfort. a world bent to the wind of love, leaning into the dependable air flow coming off the sea. or the back side of mountains. sometimes up the valley but always keeping its shape. love and the hillsides. desire and the sunrise, escape and the moonset.

san diego has a tropical storm approaching, and...who knows. interesting times for certain. maybe it anthony coming to tidy up a bit, dust the shelves and maybe sweep up a little. some morning coffee and a beautiful day has begun to put its shoes on.

me though? im here, swatting mosquitos. scratching my bites to blood, watching the winds pick up, and the clouds roll in. my world is still wrapped in plastic, preserved without lime. somehow we ended up in the bargain store, our value claiming a higher price structure but also settling into my new sale. the character, the action figure, the leaf pressed between two pages. something of the sort, and somewhere in the middle.

fleshing out ideas like a background swell from five thousand miles south. soft approach, low risk, easy sight and a friendly reminder that motion is your first love. the joy of motion.

the discipline to flex, tense and relax muscles along a time schedule that people say will end posthumously. going for a walk can be a presidential race, kissing babies, empty promises and 'we'll find out' banner trailing behind a sessna. time to roll up the windows, close the fans, check the wind, and relax.

anthony, i love you, although i dont feel you lately. :(

[madafact]

network television

my life feels like a rerun, my reality seems to be after the late late show. the time where the infomercials, and products start crawling down the walls. the loneliest phone numbers that never ring sag across the screen inviting me to feel once more. a chance to swat the dawn like a intrusive winged thing. a moment to worship the quiet that preceeds profits, board meetings, and a half tank of fuel. the impatience that gives the next green light to the next preacher texting me about salvation.

i might just pick up the phone and join the revolution.

[madafact]

guest dj

i feel like i went on stage after the lights went on,

the crowd got their fill, the girls got their eye fucks, and the friends are lining up the next toast. bound, gagged, and due for gravity.

bubbles, burps, googely eyes, and let fucking do this all over again...

tomorrow.

[madafact]

variable winds

there comes a point that blustery winds take on the feeling of a forver hug. a forever nudge. a sign from the times that motion and movement surely can produce new sights.

i used to talk to myself, but these days i talk to anthony. hes right next to me all the time, hes in the other room, a state over, a jobsite in some foreign hot sticky place. he never left. kind of like how people say jesus is with them. he never was, but he always will be.

my poor dad is still so stunned, dazed, confused, lost, sad, crying, he like a skeleton with no collarbone to support his frame, and his shoulders just race to the floor, competing against the tears leaving his eyes.

just pure disolution. life takes action in lieu of a human making choices. and i cant see my life ever going back to those choices.

the same people, the same dedication to creating a neat place for the next weary traveler. or the next bandit on the run. you choose.

ill be here fighting against the shivers on a full sun summers days. keeping the flame lit for those who cannot.

love you anthony, im trying to make right by you.

<3

[madafact]

just keep spilling

my favorite act of terrorism is asking for help.

the distinct cry out, welp, or surprised scream.. a sound most...if not all the people around me have never experienced. is it a bullhorn, or a bullfrog? or is it bullshit?

my howl retracted, my ask turned to dust. my runway for kindness fully plowed and covered to hide any trace. i was never here. i never really said i needed and ill return back to the forest, smarter, but not wise. fatter but not fed. walking in and out of the shadows.

[madafact]

four or less. more or less.

these days my life feels like the scene in jurrasic park where jeff goldblum hides in the outhouse from the t rex in the pouring rain. all my walls fell away and theres a dinosaur of a lifetime staring at me ready to fucking devour me. well here...we...go.

i deleted my instagram which for some reason was always a very elusive act for me. i would wax and wane, talk shit and complain, get wrapped up in social movements or whatever. but i truly have no dog in the fight, shes sleeping at my feet asking me to go outside again. another river day please.

i discovered 'silence notifications' as well. i guess thats a step removed from deleting this iteration of my phone number, but all things with time. all good things with time. the rest of the time shit is flying at you. right in the face. my fountains of suspicion just keep flowing and somehow, candles have been lit too... i didnt spark them but the message needs light to be seen. it reads. "fuck your friends"

i have always been such a reclusive person for the sheer fact that friendships based on self sacrifice never suited me, and i could never see the bonding in getting your brains scrambled... compromising talent, dreams and easily a child or two in the future. give the minstrel a flute and away they go, give the jack a card and he'll make you laugh. eat scrambled brains for breakfast and we'll call it even.

if, when, where, how, why, though i may find acceptance for this situation i will transcend onto 4 legs and a slobbery kiss.

anthony, i had the best time surfing cardiff with you today. i love you.

[madafact]

is it safe?

so we are here, past july 23rd, the day that was to mark the end of the sprinting portion of this experience. now comes the ice bath water treading. i am brendon masters, a male, i have brown hair, and a heart and two arms. i have been a brother, a son, a grandson, but never a nephew. i must have done evil deeds in the past to harvest such a life reputation. soft crimes, amounting to piles of distress and not scarred, but scared people. i have to say out loud anthony has died to remind myself that i dont feel an inch. a piece. a glimpse. nothing. pure shadow from nowhere.

i still dislike tumblr. its most digested shit in the bowl, but to be honest, more photos on this journey would do the reader some kindness. what i have in return from anthonys passing is a giant yacht aiming to be docked in a small craft harbor. i have such a small life with such small goals, and small measurements. being handed anthonys plate is an insurmountable pile of food. and im still not hungry after my own life buffet eyes.

i guess i am still sighing. be it, alone. lala is next to me, but i am at brutal highpressue noon sunshine with no shelter, day 2 is worse than the first, because you realize what you're up against. my little van is a godsend to the amount of heat coming from the sky. the ground is starting to bake, and my dog is praying the seasons change soon. so am i. but i keep getting lost at what to do. i know i need to leave, but in what fashion? a bank robber? a one night stand? another tall can?

the music is almost over and i am not even eyeing a chair right now. im so preoccupied with how to put glass back together. expensive broken bongs purchased paycheck to paycheck that decided to travel ahead 15 years and give me something to fret about.

i should tell you about the 23rd. i cant call it a memorial because it just didnt have a tone of memory. no pun intended, i still plan on using that word in lieu of his scent. terrie came, cried and got to dip a toe in the world that came to pay their respects. my dad was his shell shocked self. i dont know what to say about that, although when tough times show their face, it illuminates a persons complete complexion. and my dad has gone AWOL. i think its spelled.

anyway about the memorial. friends came and gathered and told stories of the frustratingly amazing person anthony could be. a paddle out was had in the raging river that is summertime current in ocean beach san francisco. to be honest, i shouldnt throw an ounce of shade or even has a malaise in my tone.....again...not going to stop.

so many people worked their ass off to give my family a sense of comfort and joy that i just need to stay in that energy and say a huge thank you to all that attended, helped plan, worked, did anything. it truly was a beautiful display of why making friends can change your life and others in the process..

thank you anthony i love you.

[madafact]

headed to press

my tribute would be a few hours on social media.

a couple heart break emojis and a couple of plain heart emojis.

a couple of "i cant believe it, this is a tragedy"

and a couple of " ......."

we can see these things coming, but we can do nothing about them. our electric bloodlines are spreading the virus of our isolation.

i should publish this blog and get it over with. half finished, half baked, fully unedited. just the way i was born.

if it is so to be the one who has to bear the burden of living on, i guess thats me. i couldnt bare to think about the reverse, anthony losing me. id like to think he would be fine but i think he would be like me.

lost, hopeless, over it, ill prepared, and alone .

love you anthony, i think you were my dad in a past life.

[madafact]

boring

i have a feeling my life will be a story of movement. not staying put and being know for atleast leaving the bed made and tidy. i cant help it, i have been shown that the world exists after you leave the front door.

nothing to find behind walls except secrets, motives, and past trauma. out in the wide open space can secrets find no harbor.

picked up by the wind or carried off by water. sun baked into forever or just a seasonal idea that will have its time, but also its impending demise.

my nuclear fallout is starting to assimilate into the fabric of my wildlife. no three eyed creatures, or swamp creations but merely just a radioactive trace in our blood that will keep our time on this earth a seasonal idea.

i love you anthony. i miss you every moment.

[madafact]

my brother is gone?

the mundane is guaranteed to follow grief. for me it's notes are too much for my taste. i might still be suspended above the idea that anthony is actually not coming back. i kind of feel like a puppet who just got pulled from the stage and now my life is suspended and i just stare at the floor.

my small little life in my small little stage, but my creator walked off. the hands that moved me found another hobby.

i have always thought my family experience has been the harbinger for literally the rest of humanity.

terrie with her 1951 single mother status was a sure a little canary. my dad to repeat her example and this time bring two more into the mix.

now anthony an early/ ontime?/perfect timing?/who knows.

and then theres my dad, terrie and i. surely humanity has peaked with anthonys aquarius auroa. now its all reversion to the mean..spirited.

this fact makes me beyond curious about how i end. because surely without sounding too self affirming, i am humanity.

or maybe its gregg, or maybe its terrie. well then, you can see where we stand...

i love you anthony i think you stuck the landing perfectly

[madafact]

hang in there

i hate being told everything will be okay, when it is clearly heading in the opposite direction. further instilling in me that my whole family was created in the wrong. from terrie to gregg to lynne to anthony and I. we are all supposed to be culled for the right direction to be revealed. we are the wrong direction and i am so fullly aware that the masters are an invasive species. we make nice house plants, but when it comes down to it, invasive species must be culled for the balance to be restored.

and that means my spine starts degrading now. my insides diseased, and most likely a massive brain tumor spinning cells to end my lifelong headache.

i can ask nicely, please.

[madafact]

lol

gregg will sit there and say "you guys never let me in your life, you didnt tell me anything, and you never blah blah blah"

never understanding it was his role to create that space. to which his sons felt safe enough to let him in.

which he never did. and today will still cast and lob stones at myself and my brother saying we didnt do enough, thats why hes so sad.

what a fucking joke...