ivan

10/1 - day 45 - 40 solo beacon laps this summer, nothing to sneer at - if it's 500-some-odd vertical feet the lap, then that's 20,000 feet so far, almost 4 miles from sea to sky, the height of denali, which the normal mortal crunch-crunches up at something half-way horizontal - a few years at any rate since i've managed so many and 50 might not be impossible if the fall chooses to be sublime - the shoulder season hard upon us at any rate - a calm parking lot, the savage winds soon will come but they're not here yet and it's a balm for the past-bittered mind - changing into shorts and t-shirt, i stumbled down upon my way, recoiling at the critical moment from face-planting through the web of a huge forest-spider hung half-way across the trail - up the route i bounded, barely aware of the warnings of recent days - nary a soul along the way, just distant deep purple rain-clouds for company and nagging fear of course - a beer and beatific thoughts below the notch, then dave hoot-hooting as he exploding up uprising - reunited at the trail we nattered over ethical conundrums the common-citizen currently couldn't avoid but certainly should - then it was home and breakfast for dinner and that hard-harpy we call tuesday just over the horizon

9/30 - day 44 - lap 39 - sore as hell and asleep by 9 on a saturday night, sad, sad, sad - up by 6 as a result though so the chore of grading done w/ before noon, time enough for a beacon lap before the getting of groceries and the preparation of dinner for an indifferent audience - gray and gloomy along the river - a tween-ager and her pops on the 1st pitch, then on until glory to the top - a wee slip on the chimney above grassy ledges saw me slip-slid a bit but nothing like the mismanagement of last sunday - a good gavreet w/ a fellow sabbath violator below the notch, a beer, then the big blast back home

9/27 - a prime beacon day at #43 - solo corner lap #38, prime X2 i imagine - very much alone, and gloriously slow - the muse came upon by me after tree ledge so i stopped to consult her: I am the candle that gutters The guy the queer one calls quisling I claim the bush-pilot’s creed: “the truth is the real gold is not in the ground It’s south of Sixty Stuck in living rooms Face in the boob-tube Bored to death Bored to death But do you know what beats boredom? Adventure " An anti-lilliputian storm of goddamn lithuanians crawl up the beacon stone on my lazy way down Flags in fists The pater familias very much at the crazed forefront of their fervid, collective minds I saluted them and bid them: Beware the Russians! Then receded down the smiling path

9/27 - a prime beacon day at #43 - solo corner lap #38, prime X2 i imagine - very much alone, and gloriously slow - the muse came upon by me after tree ledge so i stopped to consult her: I am the candle that gutters The guy the queer one calls quisling I claim the bush-pilot’s creed: “the truth is the real gold is not in the ground It’s south of Sixty Stuck in living rooms Face in the boob-tube Bored to death Bored to death But do you know what beats boredom? Adventure " An anti-lilliputian storm of goddamn lithuanians crawl up the beacon stone on my lazy way down Flags in fists The pater familias very much at the crazed forefront of their fervid, collective minds I saluted them and bid them: Beware the Russians! Then receded down the smiling path

9/26 - douglas adams day! atheists of the world...uh...uh...engage in high-minded, reasonably-toned, science-based discourse and fully embrace the impending annihilation of mind and body in an enlightened and insouciant fashion? beacon solo lap 37 at any rate, so a prime day for yours truly as well - back to skewl night, so no time for noodling about, i raged on out as fast as the government mule could fly, pedestrians bedamned, to get my clamber on before rambling on back bare-footed and bespackled with sweat and grim to guiltily change in the parking lot n' greet the parents of the current crop - the irascible billcoe n' ubiquitous ujohn high upon the rock, crawling up into the sky, we exchanged quick wit and woeful self-portraiture n' then passed as the proverbial ships in the night, each on to his pressing obligation, our consciences clean as the new driven snow

good christ, i thought my only audience was crickets

9/25 - day 41 - i lawyered up at school around noon and before 4 my nattily-attired attorney cruised into the burger king parking lot in the hms revenge, ready to roll with a twinkle in his piratical eye - 'twas a strange scene, a whole homeless crew ransacking the dumpster behind chevron for cans, loose, tired skin over tattered old bones, a grim-vibe indeed - guess that trump economy ain't exactly working for everyone? no time for such weighty thoughts, to beacon we sped, shaping plans n' having the good deep gut laffs that form the foundation of this long alliance of ours - the no-doubt livid-trumpito unbraided with unctuous laughter before the UN - its almost as if the one thing that literally half of humanity at least can agree on is this guy's a goddamn baleful modern-day p.t. barnum - whatever, it's beyond my pay-grade, as they say... - a lovely ascent of the Olde Warrior, which is 2 1/2 pitches of the corner to stoner ledge, then young warriors from there - blustery n' breezy, indian summer on the verge of over - dark by 730, the world is dying but surely it'll all be fine?

9/23 - day 39, lap 35 - sunday starts sprawling on the couch, neck-criicked n' staring up at the lights that'd been glaring down on me for hours as i gleefully slumbered - old pizza and iced burgundy and school work soon dispensed, then it was making a dozen damn quarts of red sauce n' wrapping my head around this whole-being-in-the-world thing - to beacon where the late-day crowds were quite high up, a baker's dozen come grassy ledge - heart-attack at the horn on p2 where, for the first time ever, both feet and a hand blew, leaving me hanging n' hollering, wondering what the heck exactly was going on, laughing hysterically but scared as hell - chuckles n' castabout comments n' then the top and down, down, running into oulde dave along the way - a beer at the base, then zoom-zoom n' the groceries of the week acquired - reckon that rude bastard monday is on the mend... 9/24 - dies XL - sexy time beacon lap XXXVI - today about redemption after the 10 second terror of y-day - a real contemplative re-assertion that this isn't some solo-suicide pact between me, meself n' i set on slo-mo for near 2 decades now - a so called flawless ascent, nary a technical error to cause complaint, nor time to pause and wonder with a school board meeting calling my name - a wild indian summer hard upon us, the heart-breaking glorious horizontal sun of fall, all shadows the husks of heroes, the air fresh as the yearning dreams of youth

9/21 - day 38, laps 33-34 - the hard-numbers creep up, like dingers on a baseball card history, how many more seasons i wonder, but sure this year nothing to be dismayed at - friday night = frequently climb night - the boy recovered in the after-noon and the chores dispensed, i beacon-bent then but was woefully delayed, bolstered though by fern prairie chicken-sticks n' the chuckles of the dimly-understood demented world - late evening 2-laps, the humor of 2 different-toned diffident frogs, still in the same place the second lap same as the first - the light sadly-diminished, the world settling away towards the dying-place as it lurches lazily through this stoned stretch of space - full moon flits through the gaudy sky at good-guest adam's, we play the word-game of sober-men n' have a good-gavreet - september is pierced and rent n' we must make amends, even if the hard-heart would have it otherwise

holy shiite muslims, i wish i had that sort of attention span n' head for details

9/19 - day 37, lap 32 - plumb forgot i had a prior engagement and ended up at beacon quite unawares i was embarrassing myself - such lovely shade and surging breeze - old lash plumb upon the bottom wall, wincing and whooped i reckon after a long day alone - a balm for the battered soul, the blazed trail overhead - elks congregating amidst the columbia - the big man peering down on the big world - fabulous fall n' finn finnson sayin fawk-all

9/17-18 - days 34-35, cordless laps 30-31 - The shadow of beaten Beacon slips East to be born Anew as the Elk bugle their evening tunes

9/14 - 33rd day, 29th solo lap - fell fall upon us, and sooner than usual it feels - a year ago exact the gorge still raged in flames, the torrid air intolerable to breathe - this week of rain just past would have been relief indeed then - still, while climbing was scuppered it's been good weather for swimming now that i've figured out the super-hero suit thing, the cold and rain insensible just below the water line once in walrus mode - 5% of the school year already dispatched and friday to boot, it was beacon in the early evening, grand and somehow bigger than usual - the scenery gaudy beyond description, like the world had just taken in a big breath and was holding onto it for a while, or perhaps like the hands of the clock had slowed by half, but i could scramble just as fast as ever - whatever it was, a carefree ascent concluded and the beer debased, i decamped back homewards for a date w/ the wife in belligerent battleground - lord don't let those fools break you!

plenty of folks chase their dreams, it's just that most of their dreams are boring as shit looks like you got a good thing going - good luck staying on the carnival ride - holy shit it can get weird

or this?

this good enough?

first big blast of fall today it seemed on top of that there cliff - balmy yet breezy n' kewl - great place for a really big kids birthday party

9/7 - day 32, lap jimi-hendrix/janis-joplin/jim-morrison-can-go-fawk-themeselves (28 in case that needed translating) - friday night feels alright - a week in the can, just 35 more to go before the whole rigamarole goes round again - a very, very lonely rock, just me and the zopilotes and the dying shade of waxing fall

9/6 - a prime beacon day, #31 - lap 27 - the big wind blows in and smokes confounds the sky - 3 days into school and the olde cycle establishes itself once again - the warts begin to appear and we start seeing just how decent are the human cards we've been dealt - recreation afterwards the order of the day - ole'lash rambling up the trail with a rucksack full of recovered soul - a good gavreet n' a gambol up the rock all alone, just me n' the wind n' me thinky-thoughts, then a reunion in the parking lot - this that and the other thing considered over a can, i cast out, gnome-king in the way-back n' we natter on the way to adams for the drop-off, then back back back to home n' hearth n' some tasty bbq

9/5 - diebus XXX - beacon corner solo 26 - the heat of summer returns and tech issues leave me sweating through my shirt damn near every period - the crazy churn of new faces n' perky personalities, i feel drowned by names and details it'll take me months to truly reckon w/ - still, the day dispensed, there's the becalmed way east on balding tires - the sprint to the base in silly crocs - crowds n' conversation - followed a very lovely lady up the first pitch and struggled not to come off as a creep - kinda hard when you're on a rope on a big giant crag for your first time and some bleary-eyed foul-mouthed cord-less buffoon is stationed just feet below you, chomping at the bit to blast on past and staring at your ass (b/c...like...you're looking straight up the cliff to find your way, so what else could you do?) - bill coe n' the ubiquitous ujahnn at grassy ledges - we natter over beverages n' resolve the dilemmas of man, the devil be damned

9/4 - day 29 - lap 25 - sweet god, simple good-old-fashioned normality returns after far too long - my 20th first day of school, at least as a professional, and for the first time ever i genuinely could say to the hormonal masses "i'm glad to see you" as the alternative was too awful to contemplate - beacon breezy and balmy, the haze so thick hood was half-visible on the ambulation in - an easy ascent, all alone, the fear of death like water over hot stone, bubbling off and evaporating in an instant - if this is suddenly to be the end, after all these tribulations, then who couldn't be eager for it, rather than face the far more terrifying descent into disuse and decay old age must inevitably entail?

it's on my to-do list, though my go-to list of bastards, braggarts n' brawlers is declining at a shocking rate...

8/31 -day 28 - lap 24 - the cone of silence descends on the bargain team so mum's the word and robert is your father's brother - did get a lovely 1 1/2 hr break to rocket out to beacon and rage up the corner as fast as my feet could carry me

8/30 - day 27 - lap 23 - a day dominated by the damnable - ack - looking forward to when this thing is done and i can speak a tad more freely on the subject, hopefully with a large glass of high-proof whiskey in one hand and a very large hammer in the other - took advantage of a two hour break to slink out to beacon and blitz up the crowded corner, realizing only belatedly i'd nothing to change into afterward - the stench of my climbing shoe funk encrusted feet could probably be weaponized and might just be the manhattan project style solution to our problems we need think my beacon streak will be busted tomorrow as we're bringing sleeping bags and pillows in preparation for yet another yak-yak marathon

8/29 - day 26 - lap 22 - chaos crawls upon us - tomorrow the last best chance to avoid a strike, but only a simpleton would expect these base bastards to have changed - still, the runes are rather clear and the augors are auspicious, if fight they will, then fight i must, and hard-hearted hatred is the way we must follow - escaped the emotional cauldron near 4, finagled east, gnawing sunflower seeds like a silly fool - ben's car in the lot n' suddenly i remembered his grand plan, laid out just days before - boomed up the corner free of fear and encountered my boy with his 2 young sons plus bill n' ujahn - puff puff, drip drip, the rock receives us all - the corner is always the same, though some days its a crowd of false prophets n' others it's just me alone - a mistress w/o maladies, a priest w/o profession - pictures ensued - i lingered and laid eyes on elks and ospreys and the livid scars of sacred earth - generations on display, i played my part, as we all must and laid aside the lamentations of the Late Ones - one day more and all is done!