ivan

9/12 - day 44 - sorta lap 26 - arrived after work to a lot overfull of fancy fucks - bright sun and balmy despite the breeze - kenny n' company already 3 pitches up young warriors so i scooted on up to join them on stoner ledge - hadn't soloed that pitch this year nor done it w/a rope in a month either it seemed, but i felt nothing could go wrong in the fellowship of such fine, bitter bastards - still, sipping on beer and all sorts of things got me to thinking more clearly, so i acquiesced to a reasonable over to tie a bit of their rope around my bare balls and do the thing w/ at least the hint of a belay bantered w/ the boys near the top for awhile - adam got me n' the norseman n' evening slices of bacon in the background fun n' games on a phriday night, bullshitting on the bench n' throwing back beers - never did get to the True History of the american pledge but plenty of time left i figure - fumbled oh-so-slowly back home at a reasonable speed in the fading glow of dusk, fuming at the no-show of the promised northern lights

only until it throws up

i don't pray but i will sacrifice a chicken on your behalf ole'boy - get on up asap!

i imagine this everytime after i cum there ole'pink

9/11 - 13 years ago i lived in a cursed city 3 hours from even a single pitch of decent climbing - as of today i had my 43rd day at a fine joint just 25 minutes from work and got my 25th solo lap of an astoundingly amusing easy, easy climb took a good look at the recommended alternatives for the recently repugnated crux - in true late-summer beacon-form the new course is curiously chalked-up already - da'lright, guess it goes - sure ain't no reliable pro near it and leader or follower falling looks like it'll come w/ heart-ache, but this ain't exactly fucking golfing now is it? the first finger-fucks of fall big n' fresh on the wall - great gusts galloping in from the west - not full-on winter wedder just yet, but da check is in the mail - my awning at home all ripped to shreds when i returned - not a soul in sight with all that wind, it were lonely and loopy on the south side - sat on the ledge w/ beer n' book n' butts and savored the loudness of silence

i fear change

he just ain't trying hard enough

9/10 - douglass adams day for me out at the big-b, my 24th lap too - a bevy of old bastards at the base: sal, larry n' jimbo, all juiced up n' jabbery - jibes against the Great Satan that tossed off the sacred corner bits - light airs, limpid sky and sullen river - clanking machines wage war against the many boulders by the big river down at the dock, making the way broad and deep for the freshets of fall kee-rist i hate the new reality of the route - can't figure out how to pull the overhang now w/o desperately ending up on my knees and yarding down on a block that will not suffer a fool such as this so sweetly when it blows in its big way

wise sir do not grieve it is always better to avenge dear ones than to indulge in mourning for every one of us living in this world means waiting for our end let he who can achieve glory before death when a warrior is gone that will be his best and only bulwark

this connected w/ the recetn anecedote on a big rock fall there?

pitch 2 - the crux hold(s) just past the overhang ain't there no more - can still be done at about the same grade as before but skerrier and the new crux hold likely to be short-lived too - will be at least a grade nastier after that's gone you have been warned - party on doods

9/8 - 41st day, 23rd solo lap for the year - a day long in coming - 12 falls ago i did my first climb of the corner w/ sketchy-todd the marine - he assured me he'd done it before and led the crux 2nd pitch overhang and slab - i don't recall the details - something like 30 minutes into the pitch he went over the overhang and dissappeared from sight - 30 more minutes went by - a soloist passed us - another hour went past - the soloist passed us again - "how's my boy doing, dude?" "aww man, shit, he didn't look like he was doing so well" so...12 years later and i've come a little way, but today was the day that wouldn't have suprised me then but did now the crux hold(s) after the overhang are GONE all energy moves according to the whims of the Great Magnet - God Beacon is beckoned down ever lower each passing year, and soon enough the whole shit-show to be sucked under the crust n' recirculated to be Born Again until the sun grows fat in its dottage and restarts the cycle all over on a far more cosmic scale so...then...caution is called for as the crux part of the crux pitch is a new beast now - discovering this for the first time sans cord not quite the what-have-you i was wanting, but i'll take that over not riding the bitter-bit down to the ground when it was finally time for it to go the new situation is perhaps not long for the earth either - as is, i fear flopped onto my knees and pawed over, putting plenty of force onto the only other x-marked block still in the neighborhood, which holds good enough but is rotten-awful too - in fact damn near the whole panel by the overhang reverberates to the palm when pounded on - i think it's time to re-locate one or two of the spikes from the north side - who's w/ me?

the Bear's Walking the Road out there

there are worse places to stay a few days than white rock lake

9/6 - been 40 days w/ some of dem nights - a boozy sleep-in n' lazy orbit outwards past the car-fucked ozone - never seen the lot at beacon so full i had to park way afore the trail - larry fresh off getting dumped by jimbo, wandering around like only lash can w/ that laconic look on - geoff in the revenge a few moments later - the trio of us spent a good bit of the day on ground zero, me savoring the shade, sipping beers from the cooler and the camels - great gusts all day, raining dust from above - ole'geoff had to go a bit early so we settled for fixing the first full pitch n' left the rope fixed for next week - coulda stayed out awhile for a moonlight ramble but was too desirous of nap n' nosh

9/5 - 39th day out beacon-wrestling this year and my 22nd solo lap - a grand final salute to sailing summer - the shade for sure in the mid-afternoon, but the wind hot n' gusty like the doors of a blast furnace thrown open soon after the gilded glut-fuck of the earth has oozed forth - i glide up the corner, free of fear i figure as if a man is to die doing something totally trivial it oughta at least be in the first flush of the full work-year dawning big things coming to the big stone - many machines on ix, plans within plans, i must parse politics with my ever-present award-winning personality

hopefully they didn't take the Pink Swan from the bedside drawer

i like roads - nothing says your back down to the land of the living like fat people swarming all around them

dopey or bashful?

rap bolting with an electric drill

value call for any self-respecting scribbler: better to get knocked off by the proper authorities filming hillbillies in the hinterland or the old head-hacked off by fundamentalist fucks in the way-back world?

9/3 - 38th bacon-basted day of this bitter year - 21st corner lap, though i was sketched enough of the loosening crux block as to practice down-soloing bits of the first pitch to persuade meself i'd not be bitch-fucked if it all went wrong, nor to do a 2nd lap but instead steam home for an early super w/ the little-people fall again, the world turns gray and we must follow - a cool breeze in the deep shade - september's here and we have nothing to fear

i'd prefer a solution similiar to royal arches, should that happen and i not ride the death block down - put a fixed little bit of cord to a good piece so you can swing through, or do the new bit of 5.9ish hardness as you like

for the love of jesus the crux hold past the overhang on p2 badly needs glueing or bolting into place or some such - feels like it's really not long for the earth

9/2 - day 37 - corner lap 20 - my 17th campaign commences as another legion of students saunters into another sultry september classroom, soon i'll have spent more time standing then sitting in such a situation, so to speak - august over, the autumn clearly waxing as the beacon weather blew cold and gloomy, rain on the way - all the signs of summer's demise present - the river low, low, low - elk in great batches down by the creek - yellow leaves all bursting out on the oaks