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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujo de La Playa
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Jul 18, 2013 - 03:11pm PT
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Thanks Timid. I have for the most part avoided antibiotics in my life. This may be the third time. I am reluctantly taking Amoxicillin and Clavulanate Potassium, which is testimony to just how rotten I've been feeling. It's a ten day course (2000 twice/day). I am hoping to cutoff at three days, although this is not recommended.
Non-prescription boosters:
Ascorbic Acid Shades of Linus Pauling
N-acetylcysteine (NAC) This is good for a number of reasons
Looking into these:
Bromelain
Quercetin
Undecylenic acid (10-undecanoic acid)
There is a very powerful probiotic, VSL#3, which should be used with caution.
More on what I've discovered later.
Anyway, what good is a Flames post without at least some mention of fasterners.
The keys are rumoured to reside with these folks:
but there are nine locks and only eight keyholders?
that last would of course be the Prince:
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Jul 18, 2013 - 03:46pm PT
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I'm listening to Musical Migrations.
Dude's singing about "I'm in Limbo now."
Just how low were you?
And how low can you go?
I've never gone so low as to cheat at Scrabble.
Never.
What's the point?
It is a game of cunning and deceit already.
If one can't win using these tactics, you just need more games under your belt.
If I were to take that image and apply it to myself, I would look like this. http://blogs.independent.co.uk/2011/01/05/britainsfattestman-why-do-we-bully-fat-people/
And I'd never get under a limbo bar, in subjunctive theory.
It's wrong to bully anyone because of something they can't do or can't avoid doing because they are ill.
zBrown's sh#t is gold. No, make that platinum, sales are increasing now that he's been incommunicado. http://musicians.about.com/od/ip/g/platinumalbum.htm
Even fvcktup sheeit can be worth more than we know.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Jul 19, 2013 - 04:21am PT
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I came across a book that I thought was pretty fun to look through.
The title is Ghosts of Glen Canyon: History beneath LakePowell/C.Gregory Crampton/1989. Five bucks.
The George Steck rafting trip is at this link, showing home movies filmed in the fifties of Glen Canyon, Rainbow Bridge, and other features now inundated.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bx2hS_OV9c0
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Jul 19, 2013 - 11:05am PT
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Jan and Dean/Surf City (Here We Ain't)--From the movie Deadman's Curve
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t8nao_z9NSs
Two to one you didn't know about the wreck.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jan_and_Dean
Jan and Dean were a rock and roll duo, popular from the late 1950s through the mid-1960s, consisting of William Jan Berry and Dean Ormsby Torrence. They were pioneers of the vocal "surf music" craze that was popularized by The Beach Boys. Among their most successful songs was "Surf City", which topped both the Billboard and Cashbox music charts in June 1963; "Drag City", which was a No. 10 hit on both the Billboard and Cashbox charts in 1963; and their song "The Little Old Lady from Pasadena", which peaked at No. 3. "Dead Man's Curve", which reached No. 8 on the Billboard charts in 1964, was inducted into the Grammy Hall of Fame in 2008.
In 1972 Torrence won the Grammy Award for Best Album Cover for the psychedelic rock band Pollution's first eponymous 1971 album, and was nominated three other times in the same category for albums of The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band.
On April 12, 1966, Berry received severe head injuries in an automobile accident on Whittier Drive, just a short distance from Dead Man's Curve in Beverly Hills, California, two years after the song had become a hit. He was on his way to a business meeting when he crashed his Corvette into a parked truck on Whittier Drive, near the intersection of Sunset Boulevard, in Beverly Hills. He also had separated from his girlfriend of seven years, singer-artist Jill Gibson, later a member of The Mamas & the Papas for a short time, who also had co-written several songs with him. Berry was in a coma for nearly two months; he awoke on the morning of June 16, 1966.
Berry traveled a long and difficult road toward recovery from brain damage and partial paralysis. He had minimal use of his right arm, and had to learn to write with his left hand. Doctors said he would never walk again, but he refused to give up, and ultimately succeeded. Torrence stood by his partner, maintaining their presence in the music industry, and keeping open the possibility that they would perform together again.
Deuce Coupe/Bleach Boys
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W611kApLXJc
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujo de La Playa
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Jul 21, 2013 - 03:44pm PT
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Jul 21, 2013 - 05:28pm PT
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If that's the best you can do as an invalid, it's a grape effort.
This event LOOKS like fun, but for me, no event involving running or moving real fast appeals to me personally. It's fun watching the agony, though, of the feet. SUCKERS!
http://www.elkrun.com/event/great-grape-race-elkrun/
I have always avoided running as exercise. This began in PE, when I quit PE because I wanted to swim mompetitively. What's the first thing the coach made us do? Run.
This was way before the running craze got its start. Pre-Pre, if you know who Pre was. Some would have put his image on the Oregon flag. That wouldn't beavery nice, though, and it was just a thought.
Grape was the best flavor of Fizzies. Fizzies made water taste like a party, even though drinking that water meant you were gonna die after satisfying your thirst.
Pre didn't last long. Jimm Fixx died younger than expected. Ralph Nader's gonna run forever.
http://www.registercitizen.com/articles/2013/07/21/news/doc51eae69940948934254731.txt?viewmode=default
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Jul 21, 2013 - 09:13pm PT
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"For me, travelling back roads like I do, goat-heads are the number one roadside non-attraction, fox-tails and cockle-burrs are next.
Rock outcrops and boulders and lone rocks stand out as the number one roadside attraction. Trees and weird human leavings are next.
Mariposa's back roads have plenty of all of these. In addition, there is poison oak in abundance and heat aplenty. I always carry plenty of water in plastic ready-to-drink, recyclable bottles. Bottled water is out from now on and I will tell you why. I'll also be adding a shovel to the stuff I haul along on these jaunts into the mappage of Mariposa and other places surrounding Yosemite.
But first the travelogue.
To get started, a fire needs fuel, oxygen, and a heat source.
Now we have the science lecture out of the way.
On Thursday evening I rode out to the country and toured the remainder of the road on which I found the white rocks.
I made peace with the spirits on Friday and drove on through Conehead Country, which I’ll get to later, but I’d started late and it was dark-thirty way before I got through the last cattle gate and it was nearly eleven when I got home. The road I had explored is called Indian Gulch Extension. It meets Indian Gulch Road which leads to Highway 140 at the Catheys Valley Forest Fire Station.
You've all been by it a number of times travelling to the Park if you come via Merced.
//Note the fire station.
A prime location to stop
incineration//
I down-loaded my pictures and went to bed with Tylenol PM. Next day I went through the pictures, liked what I had, and went out to continue touring Mariposa back roads, scouting for outcrops and boulders.
I was looking for nothing in particular but like good views giving the lay of the land since I'm a poet guy. I took one dirt road, very steep, labeled Carson Creek View Road. It wasn’t much of a view, but the driving up and down that road in Far Niente--AKA the Red Roadent, my Chevy HHR--was a thrill. This road, CCVR, isn’t on my DeLorme Atlas's map.
CCR is on the playlist, however.
[Click to View YouTube Video]
There IS too much commotion in the world of men. Give me rocks and trees who don't argue and take life as it comes, and who don't give a damn if you've mis-identified their type or species. PC doesn't mean diddly out in the boonies; we need the discipline in the modern age, though, just to stay on the correct page, doh! Life is a personal novel, right?
I'm never lost out there. My sense of place, once I've been, is like a bookmark. Also, I always have plenty of gas and water, and a charged battery in the camera. What's to worry? Every road can be re-traced. I needed to do this on Wilburs Way, a turning-off just out of Bridgeport, before I began looking for Guadalupe Fire Road. I thought it might get me near the top of the ridge.
I went up Wilburs Way, but this was a blind alley. Sometimes a blind hawg finds an acorn. I found instead Billy Peterson’s place at the end of one of three roads I could have chosen—-it looked as if it went somewhere, and it did, but it is a far-from-normal holding, one that might fit into Middle Earth, were it not just a studio. These mountain folk are free-spirited, silly and friendly, not to mention happy to live where they do, and I wouldn’t be at all surprised to find a statue of a Pony or a Transformer placed somewhere on their spreads. Billy's family has been here a while, no doubt.
Back down the way I came on Wilburs Way and instead of going back to Yaqui Gulch Road, which led me in here, I took a right and headed down Old Highway, expecting to find the fire road, but all I saw was Knobcone Pines!
Slowly I turned....
It is the silliest thing. I realized that I had goofed big-time with my earlier musings about junipers and foxtail pines. (Sorry about the commotion, Nita.) It is the knobcone which I had learned was seeded via the heat from fires, not the foxtail, which may or not germinate by fires, I don’t care now. I found the Knobbies!
See how slim these are: the skanks of the pine family. And they aren’t the most beautiful of pines, but are among the most adaptable to bad soil and aridity. Perfickly good tree for Mariposa, by the way. Or in a yard, even, if you don't care to have Sunset Magazine come photograph your place.
A small grove of knobcones on the roadside held me in thrall and I even did some fun climbing (not of the trees—they seem unpleasant to climb—but of the roadside cut. It offered better photographic potential than the roadway. Off the road I would never have attempted climbing with no else one around. I am not crazy, just me is not enough to effect a rescue, LOL. There was only so much traffic, but there had been two or three cars passing by when I stopped to shoot pix, so I climbed up there and was very glad that I did.
Besides the photographic results I got, I wasted just enough time to be in the right place at the right time. One short stop at an outpost of humanity yielded these shots, taken just up the road.
This took up even more time. I had yet to see any sign of a fire road. I did see a turning, though, and I believe the sign read Guadalupe Mountain something-or-other. There were several mailboxes. I thought it looked private. It might have been the gates.
I passed by, not really caring at this point, as I was starving and pointed Far Niente downhill, planning on a quick trip into Merced.
Didn’t happen. I got side-tracked.
Flames on the side of the road? So what’s new?
These weren’t hitch-hiking, though. I did stop, thinking to put them out. It wasn’t going too quickly yet, there was a chance to do something on my own before I reported this runty-looking spark-fest. But as soon as I began unscrewing the top of one of the bottles of Glacier Water, the fire leaped at me like it wanted to devour my soul and I tossed the sack of bottles back in the back seat and drove through the smoke into the clear.
I thought, kind of hyper, “Head back to the last place you stopped. They have a phone." Then I thought, "I’m not set up to turn around, there’s probably a place up ahead."
Four miles later, FINALLY, a ranch. The road’s too steep and the hillside’s too uneven on this stretch of Old Highway for home sites. It cost maybe seven or eight minutes to get there, but the lady called it in immediately.
I sat and thought and saw a tractor to shoot. I wanted badly to shoot the individual who started the fire, in truth. Bad juju to think that way, though. I am not one to talk when it comes to fire-starting and trouble. We all err, sometimes egregiously. I have. But a cigaret out the window, that's just as negigently criminal as it gets, and that's who I suspect, a give-a-shit smoker. Toss the keys away on those fire-birds.
I drove down Old Highway, stopped along the way at a very beautiful granite declivity, and toked and shot pix a while, then drove on out to 140 and the fire station not a half-mile up from the intersection. The Old Highway is a fine drive anytime.
I felt pawn-like. The timing of my stops had set me up to report this fire. My not being sure of where I had to turn, my fascination with the knobbies and my NOT being in a hurry, these all contributed. This is much the feeling I’d always rather have, either as a rock climber or as well as a self-guided tourist: out for adventure, not taking a topo, relying on happenstance and my inner cool to meet any challenges, and being OK afterwards, but not totally satisfied and realizing this is a good thing. It helps keep one eager for more of the same.
About the changes I’m making in my travelling circus, the addition of a five-gallon container of water, weighing around forty pounds, less than the amount of blubber I’ve lost recently, will greatly increase my chances of being able to deal with a fiery emergency. And a sharp-edged flat-nosed shovel, if used only to bury my feces, will be along for the rides.
I’ve seen no reports for fires in the vicinity, so I must have been on time.
What a long, strange trip it all is.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Jul 22, 2013 - 11:02am PT
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Esta mañana.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Jul 22, 2013 - 04:43pm PT
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How many trees have you incinerated?
I used to sell firewood with Tim and it's all gonna burn.
Of course we never sold "mixed" cords of wood.
Even though the namesake and tree-finder of the business, my dog Frank, was a blend of G.Shorthair pointer (here's a tree, guys; there's another one) and Black Labrador, miscegenation among the wood piles was and is not allowed. They don't burn at the same temps and it's just not practical for the buyer. Unless he's a cheap charlie like some just are. "High pockets," they are best avoided. They always want a free stacking job! Frank says, 'Dump it and run.'
No, I've realized there's a whole lot more to IDing trees than I've had time to learn. I respect your knowledge, thank you for your contributions here.
It was a splendid afternoon until that fire, then it just got a bit frantic. I am just glad I was able to help.
Frank Burns. [Click to View YouTube Video]I fought the Nazis and we're lucky we won.
Franks burn. What do his buns look like?
Frank burns. [Click to View YouTube Video]Ballpark Franks, they plump when you cook 'em. They burn when you look away.
How did that happen?
OLD FLAME BROILER
See the way I am: B. Burningham.
Put him out! He thinks he's on fiyah!
Then maybe he should retire:
He can't get no hiyah!
Maybe he'll expire:
Won't find no buyer
For that brain of Brian.
It's been too long fryin'.
Rotisserie cooking was my Nana's favorite way to entertain. Spit the meat and let it go while you and the kids play Pinochle and the grandkids swim. She's the person who taught me ways to cheat at Pinochle, my Nana ORA BELLE LARSON.
It's how they cook meat in Mexican kitchens, on a vertical spit. It is a style known as al pastor. J&R Tacos on Main Street, Merced, uses the method, among others. Most wagons will have it on the menu. The meat is shaved off in smallish slices. Succulent!
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rotisserie
Put another log on the fire, someone.
"Meat the family dog!"--Jimmy Carl Black, the Indian of the group
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Jul 22, 2013 - 05:21pm PT
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This is one of those bizzare things that come back on us and we wonder WTF?
Dennis Farina, the actor who played Ray in Get Shorty, and whose violent scene with Gene Hackman I presented on the page just prior to this one, has passed away this morning as a result of a lung clot. It's a horrible way to go, I'm sure, flopping like a fish out of water.
I sure hope he was drugged and under sedation before.
I never watched Law & Order. They say he was in the cast. I'll have to check some episodes out.
RIP, Dennis.
Here's LOOKING AT YOU!
Scene from That Old Feeling with Bette Midler.
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujo de La Playa
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Jul 22, 2013 - 07:17pm PT
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Jul 22, 2013 - 08:03pm PT
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Jul 22, 2013 - 08:08pm PT
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Jul 22, 2013 - 09:50pm PT
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Road trips are not much fun without a travelling companion.
Melanie Melonsugar, the hippie chick/diva from Skyline Drive, came along on the trip to SoCal in early June.
I believe the camera loves her. I certainly do.
The pleasures of sightseeing.
Sharing the front seat.
Hanging on a one-arm jam watching SoCal go up in flames from I-5.
Scanning Lily Rock for climbing parties.
Contemplating Suicide Rock.
Modeling for the catalog. Her favorite color is green. Go figure.
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujo de La Playa
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Jul 23, 2013 - 01:33pm PT
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My little brother would probably not like this going out on the internet, but he's gone. Actually, so are older sis and bro.
Golden Arrow was a San Diego Dairy and sponsored ex Our Gang guy, Johnny Downs who would dance on a pogo stick on top of Golden Arrow milk bottles in the 1950's (show was basically a cartoon show). Sadly his agility on glass does not seem to have been preserved.
Golden Arrow has trucks showing up as far away as Washington and Wisconsin, though I'm not sure it's the same outfit. Apparently they had traveling photo salesmen, just like the guy we bought our set of Encyclopedia Britannica from.
Heeere's Johnny. If that pogo stick dance exists, I'll find it.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Jul 23, 2013 - 03:02pm PT
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Looks like a lesson here.
Some folks are like the knobcone cone: dense, or 2.Having the constituent parts crowded closely together.
Let's just be glad it's not some type of ROCK I'm wondering about. THAT would be fun!
But trees are a big part of mountains and are the first things we learn to climb (most of us, that is; Cosmic, for example, started out on quartz monzonite but soon switched to harder stuff.)
Bridwell started out on volcanic breccia but switched to beer.
Boingy started out learning to skip and became a world-class bouncer.
The Gray moves downhill. So it must be gravity, right, DMT?
Good way to remember the difference, though, the relative position on the tree of each type's cones.
I have the cone display ready, BTW.
Big trip out to the Gulch of the Indian last week, looking for bouldering on the mesas and cones out by the county line.
Upcoming.
Just want to say, rSin has left our building. It's not the first time. Good luck, but you don't need that.
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujo de La Playa
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Jul 23, 2013 - 05:58pm PT
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I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a large woody object.
A large woody object whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;
A large woody object that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A large woody object that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a large woody object.
goddamnittohell - I'm sure glad a pinecone and/or a milk bottle didn't fall on my head, Fred.
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