ivan

so...i can't figure out how to add to my running beacon tr's - the quote feature just captures the most recent update, not the whole string - is there a trick? i am, afterall, very, very dim in these dark hours

12/8 - day 36 - lap 24 3:45, the sun low, low, low in the sky - 36 degrees in the parking lot, radio said gusts to 80 mph - it took some coaxing to climb into my war gear n' crawl down the trail, leaking snot and tears in the glorious gale, half-certain i'm completely gone with the other half not caring one whit at all at the base - stinking shoes over sweaty socks n' second guesses, but then goddammit-all-just-get-it-done n' up we go - pauses every few feet to shove my hands down my pants n' coax the digits back to their duty - the breeze rocking n' swaying my dump-truck body as i gasp for breathe - snag ledge n' i can't sit still for long - the first crux of the slab no problem but the second's scary w/ gloves on so off they come - the roar of the move onto the east side, the full riot of the wicked wind waking my woebegone senses - i try to time it but really there's no telling fate what's fucking what the tree ledge, roots flexing in the poor soil it's precariously planted in, the dirt bubbling up as if in a full-on earthquake - the hurricane grows greater as we get up into the sky and i feel for maybe the first time ever that the railing sure seems a long way off - that curious mixture of freezing cold and sweating at the same time uprising with the light gone gray and gaunt, the life bled out of the world as the heavens above begin to gleam with starlight tornadoes at the final turn onto the trail, and what do we say to the god of death? not today not today

there's somebody you should talk to oly

canadian border crossing en route to mt redoubt circa 2010 - still too ptsd'ed out to give details

always nice to see places you've pissed before funny, i don't think any 13 continuous minutes on any el cap wall i've done didn't featured the word "fuck!" at least once - these fellas are choir-boys

groovy - sure is ugly that re-quoted stuff isn't contained in a small text-box like in the past - gonna make me have to change my whole style if it stays thisaways

i'd like to be able to see my rapunzel's back in rehab tr - the google just leads to a broken link... anything by mike layton needs to be findable, especially the tale of the talking turd muir on sunday firfuksakes

i can't go more than 60 meters w/o needing to stop for a smoke

so are we still not able to say dan h*witt?

i think you used to be able to set how many posts you wanted per page, but the default was something like 25 - surely the old page-top whores had that math down to a science

inigo montoya - you killed my father - prepare to die

will take some getting used to hate the spaces it's auto-inserted into my grecian prose trebly-hate that all the previously quoted text is now displayed on the main screen and has to be scrolled through - i like keeping the old-stuff there to see, but it's now total-poison...guess the new stuff should now just be put at the top reckon i'll go back to yelling at wheel of fortune now

holy shiite muslims, has the hc-luv emoji been relegated to the dustbin of history?!?

i'm excited about this whole warning pts thing - can i just go ahead and request to be set to 69 or do i need to use the magic c-word 69 times in a row instead?

lick sack?

11/18 - day 35 howling damps for weeks on end - tried thrusting my fat-fuck ass through the dead-horse last weekend to no avail - after days of sad union bidness, no hope for a brother or a sister, i slunk east not long after the sun ambled up w/ old adam, set to slink our way up free-fir-sum dank, chilled air in the lot - building breeze at the base - beers whilst adam got up the first bit of the necessary, then me too - afterwards it was the corner, barely dry enough for an ascent but good enough guess i ain't making it to 25 laps this year...

red rawks is pretty sweet in march and there are big mountain feeling things there fo'shizzle - desert alpine's pretty cool...

if nothing else, fred's death, if only momentarily, allows us all to agree w/ raindawg about something - well said

some original verse for our boy's passage: all hallow's eve n' all though the gorge no one's got time fir me nor my whores precious little time, i speed from an iep n' rocket east with a pressing need to pee jim in the lot, sad words on fred beckey then down the trail i stumble as i change my perspecty nastia, dan, then steve n' sweet kim as i ponder my options n' wonder who could think who was Him? it's the end of an era, but who the fuck could say who's the next master of adventure, or where she shall stray? there's gods n' there's guides, n' all men in between, but the truth is we all flounder at all times just like teens godspeed, good fred, i hardly knew ye i know but fuck we're all doomed, n' that's how it goes

10/31 - day 34 - lap 23 all hallow's eve n' all though the gorge no one's got time fir me nor my whores precious little time, i speed from an iep n' rocket east with a pressing need to pee jim in the lot, sad words on fred beckey then down the trail i stumble as i change my perspecty nastia, dan, then steve n' sweet kim as i ponder my options n' wonder who could think who was Him? it's the end of an era, but who the fuck could say who's the next master of adventure, or where she shall stray? there's gods n' there's guides, n' all men in between but the truth is we all flounder at all times just like teens godspeed, good fred, i hardly knew ye i know but fuck we're all doomed, n' that's how it goes

i don't see what folks are complaining about - i mean, teddy roosevelt n' donny-t are basically totally simpatico, no?

hail freddy full of horse-cock the devil's club is w/ thee blest art thou amongst dirtbags and blest is the fruit of thy 4th class gully sacred cascades, mother of storms, prey for us hosers now and especially in the hour of our ascent belay on

wish i had more fred stories, but only ran into him a few times saw him last winter - it was awesome to see somebody who suddenly made jim opdycke look like a teenager again the first time was in talkeetna - this grizzled, stank-ass mofo was getting off a plane as we checked into the air taxi - one look at this old coot and i turned to my buddy n' said "dood, that's fred beckey firfuksakes!" - my boy's like "hell, no, no way" when at that exact second the chick behind the counter, who was clearly unimpressed by us, looked up and bloomed like a flower: "hey fred!" she cried, then handed him a baggie w/ his wallet in it w/ "beckey" burned into it okay, with feeling now: "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"