Bull. Phil Bircheff is a exculpturist, and he took his art seriously enough that he had a sculpture ongoing most of the time in camp. But he is professional.
And there are lots of other ways to spend down-time in the confines of the climbers' camps which don't require capital, just time, and which exercise one's artistic side. It's not all making pitons and drawing topos.
I guess the teeth are chiclets?
Credit: G I
First taste is free.
Credit: G I
Toothpick sculpture is basically the dirtbag's cheapest art milieu. Toothpicks are free. Glue is not. But it will get you high. Yuck! Imagine they found him in his tent, toothpicks in his eyes!
We should all be glad Werner's not too polite about a lot. Keeps it real. You have to be polite to the guy who's rescuing you, but he doesn't need your BS.
It is from Orfeo and Euridyce, one of my favorite operas, not much seen any longer, but which I primarily like because of "the Dance of the Blessed Spirits." Kathleen Ferrier is known for this role as Orfeo, one of the two she customarily sang, the other as Lucretia in Britten's The Rape of Lucretia, q.v.
We have all lost loved ones. It's an important part of life to keep on living when they leave. It's our turn sooner than we know. I love this song, because it's so comforting. Like a deathly lullaby. Makes me want it, but not just yet, Woody.
It's equally important not to forget the departed. We are doing well.
It's not too much to think there's only heaven, never hell.
Kathleen died at the height of her fame from cancer in 1951. Death is such a spoilsport.
^^^^^^^^
The Auckland Philharmonia Orchestra under the baton from Eckehard Stier performed Mussorgsky's Pictures at an exhibition and the highlights "Baba Yaga" and "The great door from Kiev" live at Auckland Town Hall in February 2010.
Hitting the road on the night before Christmas, Bevin's birthday.
Going to visit the CosmicCrags. Man, wife, parrots.
Hitt me, Kkrishna! With that rhythym schtickk!
So I'm goin' to the crags and I'm packin' my bags.
It's not Tierra del Fuego, but the climate's suitable for what I have to wear. I don't have anything to pack except Fires and Superlight bag. And some underwear and a book. And the ashtray. And the remote.
Electric Light Parrots. Ents, Leaves, Palms. Erb Light Panatela. Elbow Lever Punch. Elmo Loves ... Poor fuching Elmo, we'll leave it at that.
Only one parrot on his shoulder means he is not going to laugh at you in front of his friends, kemo sabe...--Taunt O, the Sherpa-Lumpa sidekick
Keith looks like he's dressed for Vegas in the "recital." Good jazz, you head of hop smoke and rock dust and parrot down. A real power trio you have up there. Like Buddy Holly and his Crickets.
Amigo to hell and back. Brothers in blues and reds and puke-greens. The Non-Emergency Red and Blue Cross Depression Emerging Crisis Intervention Squad (NERBCDECI Squad)* is on the way to help the afflicted VegasClimber get his bearings.
I have a feeling peer pressure alone will get his climbing jones going. We'll shame him like a miscreant of another race, we'll even throw pie in his ugly old face. We'll cajole him, rock/roll him, beguile him, but not heil him.
OMG, someone get me off of this overcrowded, stuffy, overheated, meandering-like-a-lost-cow commuter bus creeping along the Mass. Pike...please?????!--Lilabiene in the last sixty minutes
Calls for the NSD Squad are a dime a dozen, but this is "fue real" from the lady with Dolt's nose.
We need some help, here. Lady goin' to crack up here!
Snap out of it! Think odd thoughts of things like, oh, sealing wax. Boogers. Anything but commuting.
Alex commutes on the Nose. WTF. You commute where you are polluted.
Mick looks drunk, eh? I'm working on my escape from normal.
F*#k a nervous nellie, that woman's nothing like you, Lilabiene. You'll get your wings and fly once you've gone out on the Arete.
So there. You've been singed by de Flames. Feel intervened?
Are you on your diet? God forbid you have nothing to do...
O! ‘tis sad in Camp 4 when it begins to freeze and snow,
With the boulders buried ‘neath the last good blow,
And the dark nights dreary with the coyote’s cry,
And I thinking, thinking of the days gone by.
O! the happy Summers of the olden days,
When the brown bears through the garbage grazed,
And my frozen heart that I still eagerly embrace
Melts a little bit, warmed by your peaceful face.
Let us know!