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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Topic Author's Reply - Aug 9, 2017 - 05:27pm PT
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Ahoy there say, Cappy!
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feralfae
Boulder climber
in the midst of a metaphysical mystery
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Oh, Moue!
Total Hoot!
German with a Roman accent. Bravo! I am still laughing!
Hey, Flames!
Good to see the tradition continues.
My project is entirely too much fun. I am in these awesome conversations about some truly interesting stuff.
I have this most definite sense of being on the opening walk-in of a new adventure. It feels as though I am approaching some mountain, and this is the sacred walk to the place where I will walk within its shadow. Where it makes its mark for all living things to feel. And we inhale the cooler, moister air. We see the changes in vegetation when we enter that arc of shadow, that place where the sun reaches only at noon some few days of the year. Different flowers grow there, where snow lingers longest. Then we get to climb, of course, but the walk-in is also sacred.
I hope to be back soon.
But totally immersed and enjoying the thinking.
ff
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Topic Author's Reply - Aug 10, 2017 - 03:53am PT
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Dateline: Merced, 1980s
A friend’s grandpa, a retired SJ Valley farmer clad in faded but starched dungarees, used to stand at the kitchen sink staring out the window into his grandson’s front yard while eating chilled ripe cantaloupes from Raley’s with his hands.
He was noisy, because he hadn’t a good fit on his dentures and mostly never bothered with putting them in place. And there were flies, too, but it’s expected in melon season.
It wasn’t messy, though: as the rinds piled up in the garbage pail, he would carefully wipe his mouth with a handkerchief from one of his pockets, then slice up another few sections of melon and start slupping and gumming them from one end of the slice to the other, juice flowing over his stubble into the sink.
He might go through a whole cantaloupe in one go like this. Mike, my friend, wouldn’t let the old boy put his rinds into the garbage disposal because it clogged too easily. Mike liked wearing dungarees, too. He was mechanically inclined, like his grandpa, but hated farming, himself.
As this old gent’s grandson’s roommate, and seeing this behavior daily, I often used to wonder what he would think about when staring out that window. What did he see out there? His old place in Livingston? The approaching end of a set of furrows? Good times? Bad times? I expect he’d had his share, having farmed his life away.
I know what was really out there, and it cost me like thirty dollars in fines for parking it there, and that was Coz's old Chevy beater that Werner gave me for free because it was just sitting there and so on. I got rid of that POS soon after I got the ticket.
I was just now eating a chilled peach that I bought the other day. It came from Mexico by way of some how or other. I had purchased two, but one spoiled. This one was perfect, though, and the hairs washed off easily under the faucet, which was less of a mess than having to peel it. I had to wipe my face and hands several times enjoying that yellow beauty and listening to some old Charlie Pride LP.
And the peach was followed by four fat and creamy mission figs grown by my friend the waitress. They were not chilled, but at a perfect early-morning temperature, which promoted their succulence. The honey-like flavor was otherwise indescribable.
I was standing at my own sink while eating this fruit, naked but for a t-shirt, while thoughts of Mike’s grandpa and his melons ran through my head as I stared out the non-existent dooryard window in the wall of my kitchenette, thirty years after the old man passed.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Topic Author's Reply - Aug 10, 2017 - 08:16am PT
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Bushman
climber
The state of quantum flux
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Aug 10, 2017 - 01:22pm PT
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Private Pie-d-hole
I just happened along lingering here for a spell
I only came for the popcorn but stayed for the film
For as long as I've been here the clowns were in power
Though nothing is likely to change when I'm gone
Where it's not quite like heaven and clearly not hell
Regardless what wizards are here at the helm
No matter the topic and no matter the hour
This Taco keeps trucking when I have trucked on
-bushman
08/09/2017
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zBrown
Ice climber
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Aug 10, 2017 - 02:46pm PT
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There once was mouse from Merced. This ain't him.
Natty, eh?
Hairmasters, Stonemasters, Masters of War
You talkin' Impalas, SA?
[Click to View YouTube Video]
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zBrown
Ice climber
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Aug 10, 2017 - 02:52pm PT
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My friend Mike (25 years worth) passed away last Friday.
We used to talk about "stuff", sorta like the Flames with no ac·cou·tre·mentZ
He was a good man, still is. Pancreatic cancer been berhy berhy bad to him.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Topic Author's Reply - Aug 10, 2017 - 03:14pm PT
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God rest him, amigo.
A toast to Mike.
Su amigo es mi amigo.Thou art collectively condoled.
[Click to View YouTube Video]
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Topic Author's Reply - Aug 10, 2017 - 03:29pm PT
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Here comes the story of the Hurricane
The man the authorities came to blame
For something that he never done
Put him in a prison cell but one time he could-a been
The champion of the world.
"The people in my songs are all me."--Bob Dylan
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Topic Author's Reply - Aug 10, 2017 - 03:51pm PT
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Bushman
climber
The state of quantum flux
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Aug 10, 2017 - 05:17pm PT
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fer twenny won yeers
For 21 years I thought I was dying
Turns out the grim reaper
Was wrong and was lying
Didn't want to see me
For a few decades or more
He gave me some more time
Oh gave me more time
To even up the score
Paid most of my debtors
And collected a few
Got mad and got lucky
Didn't know what else to do
Pissed off Saint Peter when I said,
"I don't believe in you!"
Now I've got to stay the date
From Saint Peter's gate
Now I'm living for free
On my mischief and grief
Some say I've been reckless
Some say I've been a thief
Stealing those hours
Those weeks and days
Don't believe in the hereafter
So I've gotta stay away
I was getting kind of gripped
Oh a few years ago
When my neighbors done me wrong
In a costly row
They tried to rob and steal
From the good folk nearby
By worshipping false prophets
And telling their lies
We had to put our foot down
And they finally acquiesced
The attorneys ran away
With a hefty war chest
Now I vowed to myself
I'd outlive the whole lot
One just kicked the bucket
Now there's two left to rot
Now the world has gone crazy
And it's totally lost its cool
They've elected an idiot
Full of piss and full of drool
And I swore I'd outlive
That moron too
If they keep getting more stupid
I don't know what I'll do
Can't bargain with the devil
To live a hundred long years
If I thought he was even real
Then I'm sure he'd be all ears
With all these deals and bargains
I've made with my own soul
I'll probably croak tomorrow
While I'm shoveling coal
So here I'm stuck in paradise
And my own private hell
I dug myself way down here
And it's all just as well
60 years I thought I was dying
Then thought the grim reaper was wrong
It was me who was wrong and was lying
And singing my sad song
So if you bargain with the future
And use the currency of the past
Your gonna run out of it sometime
For it surely won't last
You have to have lived here at least as long
As you happen to be right now
But I've been living somewhere else in my head
And I don't know how
I just opened my front door
And who did I see there?
Mr Grimmy Grim Grimster
With his dreadful grinning stare
As he held out his hand
I heard a mournful sound
Now I'm running for my life today
I'm nowhere to be found
Nowhere to be found
This dreadful fool has flown the coop
From soup to nuts
And aw nuts to soup
What a terrible mistake I've made
I always thought I was dying
The jig might be up soon
Could be I wasn't lying...
(Last verse same as the first?)
-bushman
08/09/2017
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Topic Author's Reply - Aug 10, 2017 - 05:34pm PT
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Sartorial splendor in the great outdoors.
Who needs Patagucci and Vuarnets anyhow?
I came across this entry in the Mt. Starr King registers by Donnie Reed y Nita Chiquita:
Sept. 22, 1980
Don Reid
Nita Torres
NE Crack. Nice place to watch the moon.
Also included in the link, some comments on objective hazards by Miss Torres:
"Somewhere during the first two miles, I stepped on a ground hornets' nest and the little bastards stung me in a couple of places. Ouch! One of the hornets flew under my Vuarnet sunglasses and I thought I was going to get stung in the eye. I was screaming like a girly girl and Reid rescued me by quickly pulling off my glasses. The rest of the trip was fun. Loved the remote feeling. We ran into no one. Reid took me up the easy route, gorgeous views, fire burning in the distance, beautiful moon. Oh, the sweet memories."
https://docs.google.com/viewer?a=v&pid=sites&srcid=ZGVmYXVsdGRvbWFpbnxzdGFycmtpbmdib29rfGd4OjM3ZTc1OTA5MzEzMzYwNjY
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zBrown
Ice climber
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Aug 10, 2017 - 08:38pm PT
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Bob and his dog (keep a sharp eye (:15) and a clean noze)
"IX" or "IXNAY" YOU'LL PROBABLY KNOW HIM BY THE HAT.
[Click to View YouTube Video]
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neebee
Social climber
calif/texas
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Aug 10, 2017 - 10:31pm PT
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hey there say, ... been busy with a family issue, for the step grandkids... so won't be here for a bit...
just dropped by fast...
babysitting, etc...
and helping older friend...
happy flames, to you all!
we got some neat rainfall today...
and-- i saw a blue jay taking a birdbath in my 'pretend' creek, :)
happy good day, and eve, to all!
happy get well,mouse, you are welcome!
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