ivan

such silent contemplation is to be saluted not sicked upon

she's doing it wrong

i do way better than IVANS drunken drivel sound like yer having troubles at home? wife beating you again? tell her no means no, eh?

1/9/2015 - day #1 - couldn't let a full week of january go by w/o putting in an appearance - thanks kevbone, absentee landlord-ye-be, for getting me on the kick years ago of noting what was worth NOT bitching about over the course of the beatard year did 3 solo laps last january, but 1's plenty enough for me a year later - the classic approach through the lulls n' roars of the gorge - plenty windless at the lot though, barely w2 conditions, though still plenty chilly - took a dump n' renewed me year pass in 4 minutes, then galloped off for the main show - cold n' darkish but good enough and done in a saintly way, me pious n' piss skert in places, but nothing to really worry about a long rotation home - holy shit i wish the whole year could be so balmy

i've turned into a bit of a wimp lately - i get bad juju at the crux now after it's been terra-formed and i really don't like soloing the slab pitch if it's damp (i have to aid the first bit when it's running wet)

yer supposed to add "in bed" to the end of all fortune cookie messages

nice n' dry then? shit, maybe shoudl do a lap tomorrow?

they must have themselves some good publicists, seems quite odd that such an arcane thing is getting universal coverage.

my 3rd year of daily beacon tr's : 1/15/14 - day 1 - what better way to mark mlk's berfday (and my inaugural beacon ascent of this foul year of our lord two-ought-fourteen) than to "climb to the mountain-top?" the national wedder service promised portentous skies, a bold moon, a hero-ascent, but mike n' geoff n' i settled for much less - cloud murk on the evening drive - a shaft of bright sun at cope horn, than all gone, sucked down into a cloud vortex, a river of moist, cold air motoring on down to portland the rock super slobbery gob-smacked wet n' drippy n' perspiring beads of putrid moss-muck - soon full dark and just cans of flowery beer n' bike-bottles of sweet-wine to pass the time waiting for one warrior-poet-god-king or t'other to Put the Rope up there to the new season and to the storms that will not settle until they have shit all they have to shat upon us! 1/21/14 - day 2 - my first solo lap of 2014 and the first maybe for me ever in the month dedicated to that dolorous diety, janus, the god of fortune n' gaudy expectations for the gaunt future - exam week for these ersatz earthlings, they don't seem to deem it of much import - quaint conversations with a curious few in my office hours, some felicitous graduates even stopped on by, delaying me w/o thought as the daylight ticked away and we dispensed w/ the troubled history of the Temple Mount a savage head-wind on the drive in - not warp 9 mind you, but we've definitely made the jump to light-speed - the big bulk of the durango barely making head-way it seemed - the lot w/ two rides of climbers, and good-ole kenny one of them - i froze as i fumbled into my high-tech war-gear and spritned down the trail, croc-shod, just to stay warm - trees down all over the place - folks bailing down young warriors - kenny n' arent just casting off up the corner, all glistening dry n' clambery after last week's sodden adventure climb 50 feet to a stance - thrust fingers against my bare belly to bring back the feeling, then 50 feet more - blasted through the distance w/ dispatch, eschewing uprising n' opting for the longer exit - both peregrines flapping n' screeching n' flyign off as i surprised them at the top by the pin, me deep under 3 layers of hat, head down and figuring what's the worst case scenario should they dive-bomb me? happy, happy day - 1 month of winter dispensed with and more sun for a good long pull still predicted - half the school year done with and we head for the long downhill that bowls us merrily out into summer in the Big Ditch n' anything else mis amigos can propose for diversion 1/22 - day 3 - lap 2 of the new year - beacon all alone, nary a soul on the south side - solid grey gloom all day in camas but sunbreaks and inspirations on the drive in, cooled by camels n' a can of rolling rock - cold but much less wind than yesterday, the ranger flag barely flapping - an uneventful ascent n' an easy ramble on down, discoursing w/ a few tourists n' sopping up the views of the dappled river n' dim, setting sun 1/24 - day 4 - truly, a january hat-trick, such a stretch of weather so close to our tragic shut-down i can't recollect - warp 5 winds at cape horn, helm's a lee and shuddering at the next road-cut, truly wing n' a prayer conditions on the drive-in kenny's ride in the lot, i crawl into my war-kit n' cast off, scudding down the trail w/ my top-masts unfurled, screeching down the thing before my tits freeze off - race up the corner in the hurricane wind, my hands down my pants every half-pitch, hand-job from a stranger it feels in the forceful breeze - my breath grabbed from my lungs before i can suck it in, panting beers n' butts down by the boat-launch, fuckers passed out in the sweat-lodge again, rocked by the endless gales gusting over from the island - plans to make plans w/ adam n' kenny n' geoff for the what-have-you on hood soon hereafter can this mad season manage to continue? 1/31 - day 5 - the dying day, beacon about to be banned and gone till the sun of summer grows high in the western sky - i dreamed that this stretch of winter-dry might linger, but it was not to last- rain all week, not a chance of a solo - friday the final desperate hope, the signs all set to be cemented into place - fuck off you unfeeling fumbling freak no partner could i prepare - mike too molested - kenny contaminated - adam all a'hoo - so i drove out in the growing dusk, gunmetal gray all around, a fresh pack of poison n' a wondrous hip-flask of you-know-what - i lusted that i might arrive to an ecological aberration, a monstrous monolith undamaged by the falling damps of late; slut-dream i deemed, and damned so it turned out - the lot besodden n' me too it seemed - no courage at all to contend w/ the dripping cliffs - i settled instead for a romp up the retard trail, rope in tail a pleasant rappel it shoulda been, but my belay device turned bitchy, and i tossed it into the trash-heap after - hurk n' jerk n' force-feed, the 'biner all besmirched w/ rope-shakings - a smoke n'a few-fingers on the ledge, then continued on down, the day dying and the golden globe breaking out in bold shafts of light at the last minute - finally at the base, in the dark, i trod along the way w/ bottle n' soaked in the scene so soon to be denied - up the trail at last, i found the preternatural phucks had already posted their signs closing the fucker down! to summer, may it soon come! 2/22 - day 6 - calm n' chilly - snow in the trenches of the north side - busted burritoes - bad black-ass coffee - a ringing crescendo of a half-baked hangover - siege tactics - lawn chair - hammering - beer(s) n' satan smoke - red rover red rover - calm at the end of day bryan hanging on the big-green-big-boi drippy drippy drippy crept back into the deeps of the glistening cave 3/8 - day viii - a pre-pour cascade chevauchee - mike, the jovian giant, rides the road to greet me there - weeds and whimperings - a gift of gods, road-smokes - the sodden trail so soon it climbs - waterfalls past whispering volumes - the cobble-stone cliffs a proper place to puff a butt n' down the dregs of harsh ales - rain upon the return to the road - vivian savaging the scofflaws 3/16 - 9th day - a sunday stolt - sad rain predicted, but not so grim it ended - geoff at camas right at the crack of nine, me awoke on the couch, gob-smacked, not a few minutes before - reborn in beer stench and debasement went adventurneering - hiking up to the top, then scrambled down to big trees n' fixed a big long rope to a tree, rapped down, conquered n' crooned, then jugged back up - fun times - the big old log sent down 2 falls ago found all bound-up tight to a tree anchor - mental lines drone over dreary block-land later did some adventure rapping down the west side, then clambered back up the alpine route to 3-tree ledge, finishing w/ a funky-sad rap for geoff back down to the ground 4/25-27 - days 10-12 - the long awaited hollabahoo - infernal plans pondered n proceeded upon even as mudder-earth pissed relentlessly all over them - friday mike, geoff n' i hike 6 ropes up to the summit, hop the railing, n' fix from there to the ground - bursts of sunshine here and there - the work quickly over and we head over, swingers-style, 3 of us in 3 cars to discover the whereabouts of the secret rebel base a fine evenign drinking all kinds of things as the rain came and went - yer lebowski lebowski, etc, etc saturday not so terrible at first w/ sun and scudding clouds - strangers assemble - the party grows by leaps and bounds - eventually a few of us head off to jug the lines - some wierd spots here and there and i nearly killed unknown tourists by kicking off a few good sized stones - at the summit i drank a beer than promptly damn-near broke my ankle by turning over on it while walking down the stairs and dodging the tourons - sigh... saturday evening too epic to attempt description - dogs n' kids, raffels, ole'opdycke, speeches and salutations, the savage post-amniotic scene splayed out - rain builds upon rain, the beers go deeper and deeper, and soon the day rode out of me sunday really quite nasty w/ wind and sheets of steel rain - a slow stumble-fuck back to the summit after breaking camp n' making our farewells - felt tempted to turn back from the recovery operation at the moment of truth but luckily geoff dissappeared over the edge and it was too late - not too tough to get it all back, thanks to help from geoff n' dave - strong weather once we hit earth, but then the weekend was over and it was time for wine n' school work n' hbo-fare happy 70th old man may day! #13 for the year (holy sheeit muslims, should i've known that, i'd a been a mit more skert!) lovely wedder, wicked hawt for spring - crunchy moss - many tourons - birds bitching n' circling n' crying all over the place hum along fellow travelers, hum along Stand up, damned of the Earth Stand up, prisoners of starvation Reason thunders in its volcano This is the eruption of the end. Of the past let us make a clean slate Enslaved masses, stand up, stand up. The world is about to change its foundation We are nothing, let us be all. This is the final struggle Let us group together, and tomorrow The Internationale Will be the human race. 5/7 - #14 - a rare may-day 24-hour wedder-window - bright sunshine n' light wind - the river runs full - lions abound, loll n' leap, embayed, the waves lap over them - damn near cock-blocked by bastard choo-choos way back at the dawn of day 5/12 - #15 - piercing sun, a soothing, steady breeze, and balmy skies - no time for cheap heroics, just an hour between bothersome obligations - a quick blitz and off i wandered - beautiful, sloe-eyed ladies on the trail, so very nice 5/14 - day sixteen - hell of an evening for a hike, the lot stale and empty near dusk - a bitter day of bickering w/ the man and waging holy jihad on behalf of my perplexed polity - all is fair in love n' hate, no? 5/15-6 - days 17-18 - awful bickering w/ vicious bastards across an itty-bitty table followed by lunar ambulations followed by a day of drooling, dumb-founded by dipshits, done at last with a pleasant stroll up a sunny trail into the soothing sky 5/20 - number 19 - after strong storms sunday, all is clear and bright and dryish and balmy - a billion boaters sucking up the salmon on the main channel, no doubt the source of the strong salmon stank in the bathroom - the n side in groovy, groovy conditions - peregrines pirouetting n' screeching piss off despite their confusion on which side exactly they have for their private privations - summer's breathe subsuming all 5/22 - day 20 - strange storms brewing, vexing vapors rise and seethe at the setting sun - a quick run up the well-worn trail and back for politics n' pissing matches before the working-man's day was even done - a mere month till the sweet solstice, then california dreams and soon that southern bitch will be blossomed-up n' street-legal once more? 6/4 - blackjaaaack! - choking, guttering, drowning in my own bile doing battle w/ these bilious bastards - no space to see, no air to breathe - jesus christ man, the weasels have built condos 'round this mother-fucker they've been camped out here so long. fled in horror in the middle of a meeting and slummed me way out, nipping on luke-warm stale keg-beer on the short cruise. a quick rattle on up, sleazy tourists in tattered tee's abiding everywhere. will it never be dawn? D-Day, 70 years on - Day Double Dos for the Year - geoff rolls into the bk a tad late, all tricked out in his curvaceous corvette, me sucking down rapidly warming swill in the shade and puzzling over my biblical tome regarding the life n' times of that cornelius vanderbilt motherfucker a true rare day, how often do you climb something new at beacon? last year i saw them old fellers working out their labor of love near the spike route and today was finally the day to give it a go - wow, what a wonderfully unusual bit of stone it saunters up - the second pitch the most slab-tacular out at beacon - amazingly crisp and clean rock w/ millions of microscopic curious cross-hatched horizontal lines that make smearing oh-so-sweet - geoff got that lead and suffered for it - i followed and couldn't figure out how not to cheat at one point in wierd pod, feet all askew and off-line we rambled on up to the trail after a sesh at rancho relaxo - those upper pitches so super stupid it's a wonder i do them even once a year - oceans of oak, and me in shorts like i've not an iota of an idea what the fuck i'm at 3 days of damned seniors left to suffer through - the rock n' roll types clearing out the pipes and set-ready to start belting out "schooooooooooooool's ooooooooooout foooooor daa suuuuuuuuuummmmmmmer!!!!!!!" 6/11 - day 23 - mighty prime - another day of gentle ambulations, alcohol-adled, on the north side on sublime slab routes i'd not yet done - sailed out swiftly in the hms revenge w/ first mate swabbie silverman - fun n' games n' all that shit, up-down-n-all-around - allergy attacks for the lot of us n' shaping out to be a shitty season for the mozzies too ta boot - a sleepy drive home, my all slumber-stupid after awaking in the awful dawn to get the familias on that far-flying plane on back to the old dominion - 3 more work days till we say fukit to the welter-weight blues 7/14 - die XXIV - opening n' bastille day bitches, there's new baguette-muff on the field - rumors were of a rock wicked-hot, yet arrived mid-afternoon to cool temps n' pleasant breezes - shot up young warriors w/ geoff n' saw no sign of that kurious kev-bone feller, yet i was sure he'd have been up n' at it long afore we arrived - jim n' kenny did the corner about the same time and was glorious to see ole'jim giddup the route w/o a hitch despite his big what-have-you of a few months back - beers n' bullshiting at the ledge, not a fucking cigarette between the whole dirty lot of us - i felt so healthy and like a herpes-ridden cock-handler at the same time 7/15 - day 25 - 20 years ago this night i finally got into the good graces of the woman i've been w/ ever since dodd's w/ a spot of wind-surf'n in the morn w/ ben n' his boy, then afternoon jill's w/ kenny after a head-swim'n sesh out at the no-bo-trifecta w/ smoky jim, a new stranger n' plenty wierd - kevbone thrown'n down on the warrior - american teenage spirit permeating through the day - the no-bo circle complete - wine n' ginned up neighbors - a plan for the morrow crafted and curved to fit the needs of a world on the crest of a true and beautiful wave 7/16 - #26 - last day alone for the summer - woke in fog and tempest in the mid-morning - sleep w/ dogs, wake w/ fleas, confirmed - wine n' breakfast n' tidying up - long pull to bonneville by 1 to fetch young kenneth - lightning ascent of warriors and good fun in the breeze n' shade - down just in time to sprint out to pdx to bring the magic home - gardening n' gabbing - pizza n' parlor tricks - mid-summer satisfaction 7/19-20 - days 27 n' 28 - saturday morning doldrums, drifting along on drink and dregs of home-chores - afternoon ambulations camas-ways - bday parties for little bitty peoples - robots and addled adult ramblings - felicitations to the family-folk and fumbled east-wards as evening set in - galloped through the gorge w/ gutfuls of pabst n' crawfuls of camels- emergency core-breach at st. clouds - beacon in the gloaming - geoff in the h.m.s. revenge - giddy-upped the good old corner, passing near a dozen dawdling just below the tip-top - 11 minutes trail to base, pouring sweat and huff-puffing like a wounded fuck party at the no-bo moon-tower soon thereafter - 'skitters n' grill-fare - kids n' cosmo n' numerous curious-fucks - slide show n' half-hearted heckling (i should try harder ) - the evening wore on n' geoff left to Defend his Castle (flush w/ glory after getting hisself a new-gem that day) - Many Beers - the bridge well after midnight, brush and brambles at my half-shod heels - passed out hard near 2 a.m., my sleepign bag for a pillow yet somehow i was well within it by sunrise sunday half-bright and broody - the auold-folks awake - a quick exit even as the weasels wiggle in - out to beaocn for a days-gone-by lap - jibber-jabber w/ jihad-joe as i suck down a pre-noon pabst - the Long Highway home - hashbrowns - helluva time to take a nap 7/25 - day 29 for 2014 - days of storm n' souse - good times w/ the kids in camp, hard rains, and little to do but fuck-all w/ the recently-returned wife (so to speak, literally not literally) planned to climb w/ minnesota adam who i'd not seen since the garden of eden just outside the dynamite cave had been inundated w/ rain in rare days gone by - busted cars n' busted dreams that day, but a spectacular last minute save sucked the bitterness out of the expedition at least tuesday we'd planned at first but morning after morning after morning of ruinous damps downshifted us to friday instead - all set to saunter off in mid-morning i was a bit late meself to the bk-rendezvous after binging n' purging until late the night afore on norse horror-films, stale beer and basic astronomy textbooks - no white boy upon arrival, kewl - kinda thought maybe he'd just boomed out to beacon after i waited 30 minutes - bought some smokes just in case the cosmos had decreed this and went bounding out there w/ a wistful air about me when he still hadn't showed - nope, no early-riser waiting to regard me w/ edged, red eyes, so did a lap on the corner to see if maybe he wouldn't arrive eventually - got back down n' met that ole'boy rick in the lot and smoked all kinds of things, gesticulated wildy and talking-tall while him n' his kid started banging up cruising - this new feller george came gambolling along n' we ended up doing some good things - great guy that newborn-babe-in-the-woods - he got his first leads of crusing and free for all and crushed them ended up w/ jimbo for a while - all your favorite conspiracies considered - goddamn muslims, moon-bases on mars, mormons sucking satan's cock, etc - parted ways as the shade came side-saddling over the south-side n' finished off the day w/ an overladen second solo lap - gallumped on back home well before the banishment of day to break bread w/ the little people and puzzle out this precious weekend before us may summer never die 7/27 - XXX - 17th corner lap of the year so far - crawled down the gorge w/ the family crew to drop the little lady off at her girl scout camp - the way back we sauntered up the bacon-wand w/ dog n' friends, me breaking off to do a solo lap n' meet them up top - newbs looking awful lost at the base, casting off 30 feet right of crusing when they were looking for the corner - good times on the walk down and the long way back 8/6 - day 31 - hiroshima day, and only half as hot - not been climbing much of late after inexplicably mangling my shoulder while horsing around w/ the kids - gave it a test run w/ the great and powerful kenny on the mere corner - left some fine literature up on the ledge for all you fucking heathens to study on 8/8 - #32 - took ole'calen out for his first climb and he did well on rhythm method n' the 1st pitch of the corner - most memorable event of the day, a long train heading east carrying a huge cargo of what smelled like festering fetuses - holy shit, the market in dead hookers must be booming in montana 8/9 - 69 years after nagasaki got kicked square in the nuts - 33rd beacon excursion for the year - a midnight full moonlight ascent w/ ze phuzzy - frogs n' bats n' owls dominate the deadly-still air - heavily laden w/ homebrew and commercial swill we sashayed our way up in the elven-ambiance, bullshitting n' bantering on a billion topics so long the dawn began dragging it's ass into the eastern-wings of the amber sky as we reached the trail - amazing drive home w/ the ocher-orb huge and low in the west, casting conflicting shadows it seemed in its bitter battle w/ big brother 8/23-4 - days 34-35 - the ass-hit of summer - a good long time since i'd had a taste of bacon - a week at the beach w/ the famibily chilling in the cool, cool sands - a good bit of a week clambering at wolf rcoks, then some random work and then shit, here it all is - good times w/ the powderhund n' squire geoff swam the river from the boat launch out to the bird island - always wanted to see the wall from there and the water was crazy warm - turns out you only have to swim half the distance and can wade the rest we a 3-some on warriors - kenny n' company along the way - the russkis above - crackers crawling all over this scaly lizard-prick - dusk approaches - left the lawyer n' the shit at the top of the raps n' romped back down to pick up the party supplies - a crowd in the lot, good times ensued - stumble-fucked up the trail sans headlamp in the dark purple of the sunless night - munched on sandwiches n' pringles n' howled at the moon - perfect temps, not a breathe of wind - bats n' shooting stars - fine music until that bastard decided it was time to rap back to portland sunday dawned bright n' early - scampered up to the trail n' down the bathroom for a christian crap - bryan didn't quite see the need - fumbled around on riverside but we were probably both too hungover for having it - back at the base for right gull - nearly killed folks when i kicked off a block on pitch 2 - tasty fish n' bagel sammies - back home soon enough for pizza w/ the little people and the dread reality of Work Tomorrow highlights: great swim, balmly night, evidence of some sad soul making the Big Spit all over the anchor on snag ledge 8/27 - day 36 - 18 n 19th laps of the year - scorching sun - busted block on the snag ledge traverse - both jugs past the overhang on p2 marked w/ pink-X's and deserving of it - the world winds over on itself and is the worse for it - the moon is broken and the sky is cracked 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 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 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 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 9/8 - 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? 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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 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... 9/26 - 51st day, 33rd lap - days of sad rain ruining my summerish dregs - jim n' dan-o, the old boy w/ the boomng brogue - steve n' adam adventuring on the dutchman - dylanology on the ledge - friday night noodles sleepily into saturday morning 9/27 - day 52, 34th lap - saturday grey n' gloomy - a sound sleep in - i don't mean to brag, i don't mean to boast... - gardening n' scratching my glorious big balls in the late morning - the kids off on a mission, i laze n' grade n' launch for beacon midday - tattoed types setting off for their first beacon trip - jim n' unnamed types cleaning - steve n' rick rambling up jills - i do a lap, then team up w/ these lazy-phucks for a tr-sesh on the newly remodeled corner - top rope the overhang crux ten ways to sunday but don't leave feeling anymore settled - we double-rope rap down warriors as the sun sets in the west - chuckles n' chubby-fucks 10/1 - day 53, lap 35 - 15 days out at the playground last month, september always seems the dreamiest w/ early-outs at the easy time of the work year and longish afternoon light - sad to see it go, but there's a fury to fall that's pleasing in its own right - chilly out there - kenny n' geoff wraping things up in the hms revenge as i arrived - butts n' banter, then i set off for a casual romp, well clad, up the becalmed corner 10/3-4 - days 54-5, lap 36 - friday sweet and simple - long day of work from afore the sun awoke - bantering w/ bitter becalmed bitches - blasted out to beacon in the beaming sun at the break of 3 - strong pressure to make back to school night at 5-fucking-30 back in the 'couve - every beatard ever born it seemed teemed about the base as i breezed through w/ my proletariat beer - jim n' sal, steve n' kenny, adam n' the whole world afore us - i solo up to snaggle-toof ledge and suck down smoke and savor the scene, the sun sagging, the company curious fun for a fucked up friday night a fine burn back once i broke the manacles of that mighty bunch - at the railing a few minutes later, i busted a beer through me as i broke big down the trail - jeff fucking thomas shuffling like a harmless hobo through the parking lot, i nearly blew by him till i recognized the cock-sucker in a cincinnati reds hat actually had a proper claim on my consciounes - always alright to argue a position w/ an alderman w/ a grin n' wisdom n' a sly wit - the rest of the night nimbly dispatched - a strange lot, desperate late - peeing in the bushes to the shriek n' call of friday night lights - crusty church-smells n' i can't help but wanna clown around w/ the kids in the back - goign away party an hour later w/ a parcel of people off to live in a parsonage - grown up butts n' banter on the pavement - passed out big time on the couch by 11 saturday right up to rage at the righteous hour - the powderhound package - a pabst by camas and a camel too and the miserly remains of mr magoo - hangovers in the house of the horse-lords, hosing it out the hinter-side to my distinct dismay - packign passed on for later, we saunter down w/ all bu the kitchen sink - warriors to tree ledge, where i had a hankering to have at some lost remnant of the rancorous bolt wars of the way-back days - brought a hammer n' some handy nails, did a welcome adventurous ambulation over to the tr-top - sorted it out and settled down back to the ledge to dispense w/ lovely ones n' lap up iron-can concoctions and croon at the peach pleasant allah had perched upon my lap - eventually up the route i'll call MIA and merged back w/ warriors - up n' over to jimbo at the little people - rapped down the dutchman and dicked around on the ground gulping green cans n' gestating gallons of smoke - a grand gallop back down the 14 n' freedom at last, frolicking in the garden n' gathering up pumpkins n' gourds of all dimensions 10/6 - day 56, lap 37 - indian summer ain't it, emotion enough to rally for winter's greater injury? a week plague-fucked w/ post-work wooly-bullshit, but somehow here it was 420 on monday and i'd good odds at a moon-shot? boomed out to the big bacon, wrestling the moral dilemma at buying more demon-weed. ended up just as you'd suspect, arriving to see the cast of usual suspects. bitches rigging ropes all over the place to pander to the hoi-poilio - rick all set to ramble up so we joined forces, tumbling past jeff t on the slab n' kenny n' arent further up - chuckles n' chest-beats, the week good enough for now 10/8 - day 57, lap 38 - global warming gabby-gab followed by beacon rock balmy grabby-grab - the wind in the meadow - i wobble out of the lot, head full huge of life, awful hammer-struck by the stupid fucks of am radio - gusts from the graveyard - the regular ramble - the righteous walking up warriors - a pair of lovely lasses on the corner, one speaking w/ a lilting polish croon - would that everyday featured some such easy-on-the-eyes scene - a sealion hard upon the boat-slip, spraying in the golden light when it surged above the water-line to the terror of the terns - tourists on the trail, oblivious to the tumbling orb - a long ride home tortured by shrill tenors of the tendentious sort 10/12-13 - days 58-9, lap 39 - the tail end of my 40th birthday weekend - rambled out past prineville w/ ole'pat for a riot on steen's pillar n' the ringside rock - on the way home sunday stopped by the beacon-wand n' got tangled up in many late afternoon parties attempting the corner - settled for the first 2 pitches than rapped down the warrior and let pat led the first pitch of warriors as a weekend-cap - home for schnitzel n' beer n' bullshiting w/ my big brother - monday it was work and the post-bday-bash blahs - out to beacon in the late afternoon to a sad still-life parking lot scene n' coasted up the corner like a ghost, the world all silent and lonely - returned home to hear of the sad passing of the irascible and incorrigible corvallis-climber 10/28 - day 60 - holy sheeit muslims, mohammad-mohaammad abu-mohammad, but it's been nothign but strong mists n' merciless pluvial pummelings these many past moon phases - downshifted w/ a dismal lack of perception to full on winter funkiness - the world turned upside down in a wicked hurry hopeless forecast, but w/ daylight savings waning away this weekend i rambled out after work to meet kenny despite the kluster-fuck prognostications on the public-radio - the corner was a gushing geyser of grey water but we grunted up a good bit of it anyhow, grim in the mean gloaming, the island lost in mist - drippign wet in the parking lot n' night full upon us - kenny cuts out just in time for Larry Da Tool to lumber up and lay down a towering tirade upon me about the evils of public drinking, despite the fact we'd been in the least beer-friendly of environs for some time - must be easier to be a closet-junkie in the gentle confines of a damp desert rambler? 11/8 - day 61 - first day of fine weather in fuckall - the plan had been to do a dynamite descent w/ berfday boy big-rick n' phuzzy-adam, but clear skies n' calm winds made it madness to contemplate such subterranean shenanigans - a host of cluster-fuck factors saw us arriving a bit later than strictly kosher - i blame meself, was bawling through camas listening to the memorial show for the click n' clack bros wanted to do jensens - the right time of year for that righteous route - projected from the wall so good n' dry, standing south-west so it keeps the sunlight till dusk - we rambled down to the base past a number of Known Delinquents n' gulped down jug-beer while getting geared up and awaiting rick's arrival - adam took us up to the notch via the original first pitch, always an exercise in choss wrangling - rick showed up just in time for me to take his rope in tow, but having arrived declared he didn't much dig the exposure - never met a climber w/ a healthy fear of heights, but reckon it was about time i took us up the 2nd short pitch but by the time adam was up i'd done the math a few times and deduced we'd be topping out well after dark, which i didn't have much taste for, confirmed coward that i've become - we settled for buildign a rat's nest of a rap anchor out of the 4 bolts that have a combined age probably greater than our goddamned country and scooting back down to the ground - more beers n' butts n' laffs n' then a late afternoon jaunt up the corner, just barely dry - a long jaunt back home through the true dark, a full moon as a lamp to light the way - saw the bk twice that night as adam conspired to leave his car keys in the devil when he went in for a burger and i drove off 11/10 - day 62 - lap #40 - auspicious autumn - vet's day eve, a lonely one at this school full of aestivally-minded miscreants - three generations of venerated camasionians considered n' contemplated on - the rare bright autumn sun at 3 pm, rightly paired with a stiff easterly breeze - i range along the distance full of old-man fears - what a beast i've become, i sicken at his sight, conquered by foes un-queried - the rock was clammy and cold as corpse flesh, i tried to wave off but walked a bit along the base until my shame overcame me - shoes on, knee pad too, perspired a point or two south when i set off - bounded up as i was bade too though and shrugged off the oozing ethers from the fen-reeks of the ruddy earth - eagerly edged up to the top, hoping to hale the time-traveler as i head up - not a soul in sight, and soon to the top and down - the long light dying on the trail, but wicked bright, like recently considered fading hopes - this year can not last. 11/11 - day 63 - lapz #41-42 - douglas adams accomplishment unlocked! a righteous sleep-in on a tuesday provided by veterans everywhere, and for that we thank you wicked windy but dry n' dandy, so out the door at nine i went - a rocking good time on the outbound, the devil eager to the door of the east-wind, the helm all a-lee oft n' on - billcoe n' jeffie-t billowing blasphemies n' good-tidings at your blameless n' guilt-fre author a trifle nervous i was - awful blustery - blowdowns everywhere - our humble corner platform on the near edge of blown-out after the big tree bastioning it's edge done burst in the big breeze - shoes on- hat on - 4 layers thick my tortured soul, my cap ahoo in the big wind n' ballyoo felt The Fear on that first climb - questioning meself even - why the phuck am i here afterall? kenny n' adam on the other end - beers n' books for a good bit after - a guilt trip on my consciene then too - another lap even - good times n' gesticulations at the furies beyond the furthest borders - the long road home into the wonder of the western sun - trees down n' forest bracken all about - veterans day verily observed i vouch say 12/2 - day 64 - nice night at the beacon-wand, though didn't manage any climbing - frost fangs on everything, phantsmagorical faces, the frozen fingers of fell-fate - wandered down to the base but it was already long light - wicked wind for sure - recent big old rockfall down the east face, plenty of man-slayers done rampaged right through the trail - gave it a go and climbed up the first 50 feet of the corner but the Little Voice i've been ignoring in the back of my mind the past few flights done grew itself a pair and was yelling loud enough to garner the unwanted attention of the least frowsy of librarians - wandered about and let my hands warm and even gave it another go before turning around once again at the same point - just didnt' want it i guess - sure i could do it just didn't like the feel - settled for a circumnav and a walk up the trail in a huge gale suprised to arrive at the car in the early evening dark NOT to find a nasty ticket on my window - recently got a big old ticket from the new dumb fuck for climbing all day and getting back to the lot a few minutes after sunset - jesus christ on a cracker.... 12/14 - day 65 -jeebus, been way too long since the wedder and demands of famiwly lined up to let me out for a slice of bacon - dawn coolish n' clammy-foggy at the house, but clear and bitter blue by the gorge's mouth, the wind ripping open wounds in the sky - geoff drove as i'm in the midst of semi-annual arguments w/ the wretched fools that infect our fair stone, so i thought it sensible to Maintain a Limited Profile the plan was jensens - gear in need of reclaiming afterall - didn't happen - blowing and shady at the start, cloud-scud obscuring the sordid sun - it seemed way too damn mean out to mangle our way up that not-so-meager bit of stone before nightfall, and these park fucks have set their cruel faces to enforcing all sort of prohibitions against that so...so goddamn blustery at the bottom anchor of jensens that i was mortal afeared one of the other of us was gonna get blown off the mighty exposed stance there - geoff eventually ambulated up a little bit before deciding he was all opposed and as i was already settled on our sad defeat i said so-be-it settled on doing an aid lap on wind-surfer, no simple affair in the Big Blow about us - i did the first half and geoff the last, me sipping on bitter beers and blackened butts and Biding My Time when done we got 2 pitches up the corner before dark and wind and traffic sent us down the warrior could it be the last bit of beacon for this battered year?

same thing as always i suppose, but this here thread ain't about me you gonna be back in the valley this summer?

always nice to have a vacuom bottle of hot tea n' a fat puffy jacket whilst belaying

thank christ, now that nasta's a true 'merican she can start being mediocre n' stop making the rest of us feel like fuck'n slackers

n' i was all ready to switch yer sobriquet to "stumpy" here's to hoping this joint outlasts us all

2015 reading list: january: the generals: american military command from world war 2 to today - thomas ricks - got a copy from my pops, well annotated w/ his neat handwriting - basic premise, the quality of army generals has degraded since the days of marshall due largely to the institutional abolishment of relieving incompetent officers - the glorification of tactics over strategy, generals becoming glorified squad leaders - the classic rut, an organization devoted to doing what it's always done, rather than what it should be doing now

hmm...2014, seems a long time ago, here's what i can recollect: - great trip to red rocks to start the year - spring break trip to zion for the desert shield and the touchstone wall (took a nasty fall which ended the trip and my climbing for awhile after) - shenanigans on st peters dome - summer in yosemite - got washed off half dome but had a great week up in tolumne, including fairview, cathedral and tenanya peak - saw a cougar, which i thought maybe the highlight of the trip, even if it was only for 5 seconds -solo jaunt on the timberline trail in early summer -guye peak in a thunderstorm w/ geoff after nearly seeing the k-19 get kilt - wrapped up the year w/ a kewl combo: 3 days backpacking on the olympic coast in the park, then 2 more kayaking in the sound

all your xmas is belong to us

clinton is the only one to leave more popular than he entered, reagan was near though - reagan's i reckon was part sympathy for his waning mind and the near-end of the cold war, clinton's also sympathy for getting his dick caught in the cookie jar like so many others in this great land, plus a booming economy bottom line is our nation isn't built to like leaders, whatever their party - you can't get to office w/o making a great many promises, and of course you can't deliver more than a fraction of them- your side hates you for compromising at all w/ the other, and similiarly the other side can't help but hate you for not compromising more

yes, y is approval rating, x is the year - only 1 outliar

the ides of march, 2015

anybody notice the very clear and obvious trend for virtually every president the past 70 years?

the major's in his office no doubt, and therefore will not be in for your advice on his advice i have only 1 requirement for tr's: wholesome titties, swell pictures and twenty-five cent swear words - use at least 2

sure don't like it's from 'round here, given all them gawdamn glaciers

so it's not just that they're bored n' stupid?

12/22/14 - back at it after a busted trip last fall w/ the phuzzy - us forelorn at the brink of the abyss when the automovat shat itself and we sulked under pouring skies trying to sort out the situation - saved at the very last minute by the most unlikely of sultans this time around the augurs argued poorly as well - an alarm clock in the dark, anger and awful feelings ensued - my hangover was nearly hounded off by mikes house, well propped up w/ proper weeds - shifted my shit to the superior ride, and we hied off w/ his cousin (?) chase miles trickled by and soon enough past trout lake - soon thereafter fell fate laid a tracie-lords appropriate tree-cock across our road - drank some beer and smoked a butt and debated the wisdom of babes - a resolute aversion to returning prematurely to our crowd-fucked abodes and the absence of any sort of alternative soon saw us kitted up and crawling off down the very, very icy road - an hour and near four miles of huff-puffing finally found us at the cave after only a few wrong turns, the way made strange by plenty of snow but well-lit w/ a wonderous bright sun pbr and sorting shit n' smoking n' then down the stone cunt like countless times before - we wound our way through the tunnels of the demon god - equipped rather lightly giving the length of the walk, we'd settled for just visiting the sand-castles which we over-hauled soon enough - riddles and giggles in the dark - the wet earth above pouring through our passages, we passed the time amicably, indifferent and uncaring of the sorrows of our sordid relations in the Up World - all good things must end and the way to home always wends, so without complaint we thanked our saints and sojurned back up to the surface the rest of the day easily dispatched - pepper poppers and 40 ounces of freedom from the ko-rea-ans in bz corner - we bound o'er hill and dale while i read hunting regulations and dream of a life clad in blaze orange - camas by dark, half a dozen pisses later, i plan the rest of my crazy christmas, yet end up waylaid on the couch by mid-evening, keening my crooked spine

What's your point? that the chinaman is not the issue?