ivan

aLl Ur PhOToN$ R B3l0nG 2 u$!

saw the book for the first time today - beautiful work their bill-bob, something to jot against the tally of the Cruel Bog when yer jig is up! enjoyed the history part particularly - seems like it needs inclusion of the cloud cap inn though, which i know not in detail beyond myth n' legend can't help but gape at the godawful absurdity of seeing me name n' noxious mug on the same page as the Pantheon of Modern scrambly-scrambly heroes

they can have your iphone when they pry it from your cold, dead, latte-clutching hand

freedom isn't free

ahhh, treasure in the sky! shiny new camalots perchance?

i probably wouldn'tve liked rapping off those either naw, mostly i mean it seems shitty all around - old pins - one's placed such that you can't help crossloading the biner on it across the other pin, and then the whole setup is so low it seems the rope-pull would be a royal pain in the ass... ...but then obviously they did it n' didn't end up a puddle on the tracks, so it musta worked good enough

you mean the one up on the ridge, very close to the top out of young warriors? it ain't that one i was noticing, it's well under the final roofs well off the right of young warriors, as if you were good n' lost and had wandered way, way off the beaten path.

i could donate medicine, but i suspect it's already there in quantity

9/23 - day 50, lap 32 - mr magoo's ashes make me alright - the autumnal equinox is upon us - gloomy first day of fall, light winds and long shadows - ain't never noticed before a bright red anchor well off right of young warriors, a pitch or more up and right of stoner's ledge - long look at aidtacular options off tree ledge, might be worth the leg-work once the rains come to ruin the easy freeing...

interesting - they rapped off those nasty old pins?

9/21 - 49 days spent out there so far this year, each one decent n' today no different - lazy sabbath sleep-in, alarmed by geoff's claims to Have Found Dog but cadged it quick as an excuse for me to snooze a bit then make a big old gut-full of taters n' sausage - furnace breath to the mid-morning sky - i dedicate meself to a day w/ a little less poison than previous ones n' grumble about it ground zero, pitch 2 - we split it up a bit - alphabet soup song holler'n while belaying geoff - a breeze - jimbo down on the ground doing the social butterfly-bit - some big laughs this time, the kind that rumble through the gut n' gush out in old-lady lulls - the evening upon us soon enough and its back to da big town and the tedious details of a work night

shit, my faith is headed south in a big hurry - tell me we still make our drones here? can't they settle all this shit out for us?

9/19 - 48th day, 31st lap -everything's fine on a friday afternoon that last full week of summer, 'cept i did feel a might bit sleepy - beer n' butts bought at the asian joint, i bumble along to zion - scads of lads scrambling around the south side, i scud along my lazy way - tepid air, teeming drinks - pizza night and i pass out well soused shortly after nine, content at least to have outlasted the snoring spouse

it's like the whole fucking world went crazy at least the meth still comes from here!

damn, say it ain't so uncle sam

such a nice boy...

9/16 - day 47 - lap XXX - tuesday, the long dark titty-less tea-time of my tepid soul - a day teeming w/ work, not a moment to shit, many troubled sinners cry out for correction - myth of the mazamas abounding - the afternoon ample for an adventure - kenny n' kompany on right gull - a merry couple downclimbing from the topout of young warriors to rap jills - i pray on my altar, knee-pad clad should ye have parted w/ a big nut in the past day i'm happy to return it if you can name the pagache primary color it's pastiched with - found a southern adventures hat too all battened down to a diameter more miserable than my gay aunt vermont, should you be man enough to claim it

heard this is a good bit more mellow than the timberline on hood - true dat?

9/15 - day 46 - lap 29 - sultry afternoon, sullen, overcast, creepy hot - summer a rabid dog in its death throes, teeth in the meat of melancholy's throat and in need of the Bad Touch if all is to be made right - an empty corner - the new crux my new altar, complete w/ the mantra "the breath of god (only the penitent man will pass)" beer and book for the ledge - bob dylan considered - every biography's lesson the same (fuck this feller) - the long way off - a descent down the trail made all the more decent, all so much sweeter, by the loveliest pair of biracial short-short clad sirens i've seen in so long kenny in the lot - cop talk - comport yerself public-wise, oh my brothers, if beer-can you dare carry openly thou willst do and wish to remain on-line - talk of some rescue of over-adventurous teenagers on the spike route the day before accomplished by said ranger n' vancouver firefighters - dispute over the true nature n' origin of the cords hanging down the east face - fukkit, i'm going home

there's gold in them thare hills!

naw steve, sounds like they just mildly off-route at that one part near the dumb anchor - he describes the crux "fun slab w/ pin" just right kee-rist - first time i tried climbing warriors was w/ layton and niether of us knew where the fuck we were going - went way off right just before stoner ledge and did something very adventerous to the ridge in 2 more pitches - never did try repeating that way for good reason

sounds like you did it right - the intermediate belay is not used by most and has always felt off-route to me - as to the route description not mentioning fixed gear, well....

9/13 - dia numero 45 - laps 27 n' 8 - saturday, the sadly adequate balm for the bruised workaweek's soul - a sound sleep in n' some horticulturing n' tomato canning - a nice beer buzz in the morning in the bosum of me family - jew-pee-arr in the kitchen, blt's for breakfast crept out to beacon in the big heat of this near sunset summer, arriving soon after the shade had set in - folks floundering around all over - kenny n' dave, adam n' virginia, strangers on the warrior and a mort more besides - alaska, angel of my adolescent dreams - first one lap, then another - the long sunshafts of early evening - belting out songs on the way home, hollering over the road-noise of this new world blowing along

aidable by a mere mortal?