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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 - Jan 28, 2019 - 06:09pm PT
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More on-the-fly shots from the juddery-jittery-jangly jitney of hooblie's called El Cometa Halley.
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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 - Jan 28, 2019 - 06:22pm PT
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The journey to the east begins with a vague idea of where the east lies.
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Bushman
climber
The state of quantum flux
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Jan 28, 2019 - 08:13pm PT
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It’s all about Seymour
Hey Seymour
your fright night is finally here
Please don’t tell me ‘bout your
scary nights
with your skin so white
you look like you are
nearly dead
Oh wait
I’m sorry
you left this world
so long ago
Now I think I remember something
about your demise
way back when
Maybe it was something
that a friend had said
And now that I’m older
try as I might
though I’m less colder
not a tear
comes to my eye
And maybe when I die
that’s what they’ll say
not about me
but about that Seymour
not the poet but that old TV guy
Yes he was really scary
in his way
-bushman
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zBrown
Ice climber
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Jan 28, 2019 - 08:40pm PT
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See more
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hooblie
climber
from out where the anecdotes roam
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Jan 29, 2019 - 01:12am PT
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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 - Jan 29, 2019 - 01:26am PT
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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 - Jan 29, 2019 - 01:27am PT
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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 - Jan 29, 2019 - 01:44am PT
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Some Serious Poetry At Last
The land bears the attacks of the rest of nature like a sleeping giant.
The glaciers press the surface of the land down with their massive tonnage and carve the rock away in bits and pieces.
The rain and snowmelt wash the gravels into rivers that deliver the bits and pieces of land to the sea.
The sea's assault on the land is incessant and greedy but patient, so patient, gradually eliminating an island here and a peninsula there.
The wind takes its toll on the land in a cat's game of shifting dunes and sandstorms and drives the sea mad so that it lashes out angrily at the land.
And the land itself seems mad, thrusting bits of itself into the depths of the earth, only to re-emerge in hot flows of noxious gasses and liquid molten rock.
The giant has awakened and I wonder what did he dream about?
Did Seymour come to him in the darkest hours and try to make him pee his jammies?
--mfm
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Gnome Ofthe Diabase
climber
Out Of Bed
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Jan 29, 2019 - 02:41am PT
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only Getting youth To see
^^Up off a sick bed^^
Weary
Refreshed in death
Bleary
Caught in trance
Clearly
Both dull 'n Bright tones
Heary
No stone left
Unturned
Siri
Perhaps it is the joy of nature that here In her I find the nature of joy
You can leap from stone and slide
you can jump down a mountainside
that then too you can die
All a-broken quaking and shaking
Ahh but if and when too
you come-to; just so and do
awaking less scathed than dying
Rejoice in the certainty of knowing
it be true that if it happens to you
One hasn't fallen down when perishing up so high
Into the Storm And Blow we go,
it is as we hope others for us would
A grasp of sight from the flash of light
The terrifying roll of thunder and lightning
long will be the night a fright will be the sight
The rock and snow show the way to go
to places where I am always high
If I can catch my breath,
Be still, no as if the heart attack
explodes forth from a proud chest
It has harsh flanks that challenge
There feels an element of worthy quest
A place I go to be so high
It welcomes and beckons me to climb
A place of glimmering Ice and rock And snow
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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 - Jan 29, 2019 - 06:06am PT
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The Compleat Thrrasher.
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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 - Jan 29, 2019 - 06:08am PT
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You wouldn't wanna take this on a long trip.
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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 - Jan 29, 2019 - 08:06am PT
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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 - Jan 29, 2019 - 08:21am PT
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Small amt. of rain this a.m.
Not even enough to brush your teeth with.
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Bushman
climber
The state of quantum flux
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Jan 29, 2019 - 09:46am PT
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cedrus,
joy of trees conspiring
oft I have wondered
for I am a woodsman
do trees have a memory
and would they conspire
oft I have pondered
when felling great timbers
would trees take their vengeance
if so they desire
Oh as I sleep
while the rains hammer down
would that great cedar
crash down on my dreams
oh as I sleep
through the wind and the storm
would the cedar uproot
taking one for the team
oft I remember
the words of the elders
how the people gave thanks
to their prey as they fell
oft it has served me
at work in the forest
that I should give thanks
to the trees just as well
-yohan sabunyan bach
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Bushman
climber
The state of quantum flux
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Jan 29, 2019 - 07:36pm PT
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Waist Deep in the Big Muddy
by Pete Seeger
It was back in nineteen forty-two,
I was a member of a good platoon.
We were on maneuvers in-a Louisiana,
One night by the light of the moon.
The captain told us to ford a river,
That's how it all begun.
We were -- knee deep in the Big Muddy,
But the big fool said to push on.
The Sergeant said, "Sir, are you sure,
This is the best way back to the base?"
"Sergeant, go on! I forded this river
'Bout a mile above this place.
It'll be a little soggy but just keep slogging.
We'll soon be on dry ground."
We were, waist deep in the Big Muddy
And the big fool said to push on.
The Sergeant said, "Sir, with all this equipment
No man will be able to swim."
"Sergeant, don't be a Nervous Nellie, "
The Captain said to him.
"All we need is a little determination;
Men, follow me, I'll lead on."
We were, neck deep in the Big Muddy
And the big fool said to push on.
All at once, the moon clouded over,
We heard a gurgling cry.
A few seconds later, the captain's helmet
Was all that floated by.
The Sergeant said, "Turn around men!
I'm in charge from now on."
And we just made it out of the Big Muddy
With the captain dead and gone.
We stripped and dived and found his body
Stuck in the old quicksand.
I guess he didn't know that the water was deeper
Than the place he'd once before been.
Another stream had joined the Big Muddy
'Bout a half mile from where we'd gone.
We were lucky to escape from the Big Muddy
When the big fool said to push on.
Well, I'm not going to point any moral,
I'll leave that for yourself
Maybe you're still walking, you're still talking
You'd like to keep your health.
But every time I read the papers
That old feeling comes on;
We're, waist deep in the Big Muddy
And the big fool says to push on.
Waist deep in the Big Muddy
And the big fool says to push on.
Waist deep in the Big Muddy
And the big fool says to push on.
Waist deep! Neck deep! Soon even a
Tall man'll be over his head, we're
Waist deep in the Big Muddy!
And the big fool says to push on!
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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 - Jan 29, 2019 - 09:01pm PT
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I was reading in a book
about the alders of Zion
which, apparently,
are related to the cedars over in Lebanon.
And then a storm came up
and the wind stripped the book of all its pages.
It was a regular Diaspora, I'm tellin' ya.
John Fahey coulda written a guitar instrumental about it.
[Click to View YouTube Video]
Saw The Favourite with my favorite gal this afternoon
followed by creme burley.
Three and a quarter stars and lots and lots of rabbits, George.
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hooblie
climber
from out where the anecdotes roam
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Jan 29, 2019 - 11:37pm PT
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it's snot that the neighbors are nosy
or that he receiving line at the nogginscratch ever got crossed ...
tbc
~~~~
^^^ nice cadillac slice
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