Discussion Topic |
|
This thread has been locked |
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Nov 29, 2012 - 08:40pm PT
|
It's a dim gray day again, reminiscent of the one Betty was last seen on at the Library. Looks like I might have to take her to Vegas, not London. Cool, maybe we can visit some lowlifes we each know.
Peripatetic pairings.
The day is louring. Like in The Road by CMac. Not Kerouac. And not the new boy CMac with the puppet stringy-thingies. Cormac Mac. Oooooh, that guy. It's a day that reminds me of certain book, all you Lizzes that I have known, know, will maybe know, including Betties--Liz's Aunt Betty, Beatrice, really, but WTF cares; her sister Betty Rose, still just Betty, no Elizabeth; Liz one whom I was out of wed with due to under-ageness; Liz two, whom I bed, awed and wed; Betty the Librarian;Betty, the Rev's mom; neebee, 'nother motherly lzzie-from-lulu-land (hi sigh there, "fire-sitter"); the list seems endlizz, but the point is, they were/are all readers, whereas I only have Lenna Louise left to talk to whose brother I am, who has, unfortunately, only read Stephen King, as far as I can tell, and that was based on my mom's recommendation which was her go-to standard, her mom's taste. She reads only the paper, TV commercials, and some shyt on the net. The lovely ladies the Lizzes 'n betties, all read, all the time. Or did.
I'm thinking of The Stand, of course.If one listens to The Incubus' dialog, alone, it's fairly easy to pick out phrases you understand, and it was this afternoon that I shared a game of Scrabble and the last of my dad's Jack Daniels with Marcel Simon that we did this.
Kia's name's prounounced keye'-uh, she's no car. And Amael's is pronounced ah'-meye-el.
And what was that kid's name, the one you guys claimed you, uh, "found in a tree?" At least that's what Randy said once.
zBrown, what's love got to do with it?[Click to View YouTube Video]
Scene from The Incubus.
Kia: why can't the Incubus rise up out of the fire [of Hell] and slaughter them [the ones on their way to choosing Hell] like sheep?
Amael: A soul cannot be forced to joun the Legions of Hell. Each one is given a choice, and when they choose to come to meet us, we then greet them.
Kia: Sister, I want more that that. Surely the God of Darkness would welcome the capture of a noble soul, clean and good--free of taint, without a shadow of corruption?
Amael: Sister, be careful!
Felice, atentu!
Kia: I have powers, Amael, powers that must be tested!
Amael: You don't know what goodness is!
Kia: I want to know! I want to find a Saint [Shatner] and cut him down, corrupt him, crush him, put my foot on his holy neck, make him rave and howl and bleed and weep then send him plunging down to the Inferno!
Amael: Kia, nay!
Kia: Then, I would be a demon! Then, I would be the Beast God's best daughter!
Amael: Sister, I warn you! Keep away from the good! They carry a power that rules the heart. A great power, mysterious, profound, far beyond your understanding.
Kia: Power? What power?
Amael: The power of love.
La potenco de la amo.
It's a novel, sho 'nuff.
All-Taco novel at the end of write your own novel in thirty days month.http://www.nanowrimo.org/
"What we have here, is a failure to communicate. What we have here are too few cooks stirring the pot, if you ask me. But what the hell do I know? I just run the place? What we have here, isn't so much a collabor-A-tion, so much as it is a collabortion!"--you should pardon the phrase, it was one I typed to neebee, only it came out thus, thus a typo for the ages is a boon for my pages--"So give me ten sentences in ten minutes, you Yardbirds, or you'll all go to Canary Row. Solitary, I mean."--Sheriff K. Neil Diamond in Cool Hand Finger Puppets
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Nov 29, 2012 - 08:44pm PT
|
Damn, Sam I am! Ka-blam!
Get outa there, dummy!
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Nov 29, 2012 - 10:08pm PT
|
Looking at the Stones do Sympathy for the Devil again this afternoon before Marcel came and lost at Scrabble, I came across a trick I haven't ever seen, but which reminds me of the double towers of flames which came shooting out of the two towers of the Stones' stage.
Weedish torch, anyone?[Click to View YouTube Video]
It takes me back to one moonlit night in late September on the Pohono Trail, BooDawg.
This looks like a good survival, or even a simple amaze your pals trick. Make sure you have sufficient clearance if you try this at home, both from the spouse and the house. And the pit's down to bedrock or some such. This looks adaptable to a lot of uses.
Has anyone here taken bottle rockets to a summit, like Shasta, and lit them off? Golf club and balls? Pocket parachutes?
I also spotted this among my dad's stuff.
We all know/learn important stuff too late or never. Just passing some along, FWIW, and just in case someone might know anyone getting married sooner or later...
Head-strong youth.
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Nov 29, 2012 - 10:40pm PT
|
http://article.wn.com/view/2012/02/20/Yosemite_National_Park_waterfall_resembles_lava/
Scroll down and select the one about good old Horsetail Falls!
Horse tails indeed, and bull pizzles and gnarly old bones like these stories:
1,001 Arabian Nightmares.[Click to View YouTube Video]
The Night They Burned Foresta Down. i believe it was in '88 or in '89. But we talked about that. A three-fire night.
It's old Mister Bemingham, lost in Laredo with the Fresno-to-Modesto blues again.
Little Pink houses. Pink strings. Pink Mice. Blue mice.
Plinka-plinka pinkgrass revivalist, three-times nominated non-archivalist, but I've never yet had a pink lady of this persuasion or hue.C'est gris, podda rose-A. The perfect color for today.
I'm green, she's grey, the fire's hot, there are orange peels and some matches and quite a lot of rose-A left, so bring that bottle over here...
Gray lady, gray.
Gray hair, eyes, or mood, there's nothing that the words "I love you" don't enhance or simply change the outlook of among any of these three. And the ethereal touch of a warm heart and a warm fire between old flames and old Flames is one of the best things ever, two actually, to cure blues.
Let's make some plans.
I want a 150' pink rope and a 165' blue rope for Xmas. This is a symbol of a relationship. The male is the blue, and the female is the shorter pink one. They work like this. There should never be a question of which to pull on rappel. Always pull pink. Never pull blue. There is ALWAYS more length you can rappel if you put the knot down five feet from the rap anchor tah if you only have two 150s and it weighs less than two 165s. It's a clumsy metaphor. But I thought of it myself, so I'm sticking to it.
"Super dry, preferably."--Kevin Kline in January Man
|
|
zBrown
Ice climber
chingadero de chula vista
|
|
|
Nov 29, 2012 - 10:44pm PT
|
Bob Dylan wondering
(about the time he discovered Sir Isaac Newton, not long after becoming disenchanted with Carl Sandburg and poetry).
These visions are now all that remain.
|
|
zBrown
Ice climber
chingadero de chula vista
|
|
|
Nov 29, 2012 - 11:01pm PT
|
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Nov 30, 2012 - 12:37am PT
|
With your sheet-metal memory of Telegrah Av
And your magazine-husband who one day just had to leave
And your gentleness now, which we can't help perceive
Who among them do you think would you like to have?
[platonic kweskion]
Sad-eyed lady of the uplands
Where the sad-eyed prophet says that no man comes
My warehouse eyes, my Arabian drums
Should I put them by your gate
Oh, sad-eyed lady, should I wait?
Am I digging the Yardbirds with Dylan?
Not so tough, cuz the bigger they are, the harder they fall. But the elephant diagram is a stumper.
Am I seein' a bum on Canary Crow?
I pity those poor immigrants.
Are those snakes on the right plane?
This burgundy's gray. It's sad, like that lake of tears. Naw, I dig the reservoir not, you dog.
You so cryptic, zBrown. But transparent. No fue you.
I'm glad, I'm so very glad, I'm glad, I'm glad, I'm glad.--The Cream Dream, never released
I'm so glad that I'm So Glad and that there's thread being devoted to Cream all over again.
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Nov 30, 2012 - 12:38am PT
|
Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues by Nina Simone.[Click to View YouTube Video]
I'm going back down to Tierra del Fuego.
I do believe I've had enough.
But there's more.
Taco Salad with Leaves of Grass.
And a fine array of desert items, like you find in JT.
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Nov 30, 2012 - 01:00am PT
|
http://www.mrqe.com/movie_reviews/twentynine-palms-m100066976
Hit "More" to read the review.
It's so appealing. Cali-Corsica, a State in which we all want to dwell, the best of both places, In 'n Out of 'em both but stuck in the Middle. Only with each other for company so it's all good.
Mediterranean Joke Alert--Olive Drab. Stupid Drive-In Joke Alert--Purple/Magenta. Climbing Content Alert--Royal Blue.
|
|
Patrick Oliver
Boulder climber
Fruita, Colorado
|
|
|
Nov 30, 2012 - 02:50am PT
|
Mouse and zBrown, I don't want to sound mean, and that's
not my intent, but I guess in my probably foolish simple way I wish
you could speak English or perhaps explain some of your
references, including photographic..., in a thread that has
real potential but just keeps losing its way for me by being a little
too cool for its own good. Just some good solid sentences would go
a long way with me personally, but then perhaps everyone else
gets it... in which case ignore me please and carry on.... I do
think I am a bit out of touch with reality, at the moment, so it's
probably all my problem and not yours....
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Nov 30, 2012 - 03:46am PT
|
PO boy,
Your point is well-timed, apt, and as I applaud your part as a character in our little playlet and one concerned init's outcome, I/we will tone it down. But YOU TOO, the plural you, not just PO, but all you must do your part by out-guessing ZBrown, who is tuned into this wavelength of such infrequncy that it's only perceptible to those who do not actively seek it, like love, I guess. That is, just groove, buy into the flow, but only if you want to. I's fun matching bland wits, and band-widths with zBrown, emanating from Chula Vista Crest, somewhat south of Buena Vista Crest.
In fact, here are some of my edited-in responses to his crypticisms posted tonightish and earlier.
Am I digging the Yardbirds with Dylan?
Not so tough, cuz the bigger they are, the harder they fall. But the elephant diagram is a stumper.
Am I seein' a bum on Canary Crow?
I pity those poor immigrants.
Are those snakes on the right plane? A flat-out guess on my part.
This burgundy's gray. It's sad, like that lake of tears. Naw, I dig the reservoir not, you dog.
You so cryptic, zBrown. But transparent. No fue you.
So, PO boy,
It's a lyrics thing, a song thing. I know you appreciate that.
Just don't send Mother Superior, okay? She really jumps the gun.
We po-leese our own selves h'yar 'round.--the Rev
Prodigal Son/Po' Boy
Well a poor boy took his father's bread and started down the road
Started down the road
Took all he had and started down the road
Going out in this world, where God only knows
And that'll be the way to get along
Well poor boy spent all he had, famine come in the land
Famine come in the land
Spent all he had and famine come in the land
Said, "I believe I'll go and hire me to some man"
And that'll be the way I'll get along
Well, man said, "I'll give you a job for to feed my swine
For to feed my swine
I'll give you a job for to feed my swine"
Boy stood there and hung his head and cried
`Cause that is no way to get along
Said, "I believe I'll ride, believe I'll go back home
Believe I'll go back home
Believe I'll ride, believe I'll go back home
Or down the road as far as I can go"
And that'll be the way to get along
Well, father said, "See my son coming home to me
Coming home to me"
Father ran and fell down on his knees
Said, "Sing and praise, Lord have mercy on me"
Mercy
Oh poor boy stood there, hung his head and cried
Hung his head and cried
Poor boy stood and hung his head and cried
Said, "Father will you look on me as a child?"
Yeah
Well father said, "Eldest son, kill the fatted calf,
Call the family round
Kill that calf and call the family round
My son was lost but now he is found
'Cause that's the way for us to get along"
Hey
Hey say there, whaddya say, xBrown? yBrown? zBrown?
And he'd likely come back with more cryptic things. Which isn't cryptic, because I've decrypted it by captioning. It takes the fun out of it. He could well post this, sans caption, and we'd all likely enjoy guessing it's Balloon Dome. And it's more fun of the sand bagging variety. Chaff-chaff, I was Lord Kitchener's Valet, and all that, which might fetch this.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ljpO5DIPhVQ
OR, even better[Click to View YouTube Video]
The moral being that we are all invisible here. Stone free.
But we reveal our secrets, sometimes in a strange Esperanto-of-the-Spirit, and wonder of wonders we seem oftener than not to be speaking the same language, seeking the same dreams, living through similar circustances, like trying to write prose in poetic paragraphs that are not just exercises in alliteration from the fourth grade Think and Do Books the Holy Namers used to force on us.
We have no truer secrets to conceal than the silly stuff from our pasts, like riding through Firebaugh in the foggy by and by.
Or silly reminiscence about George Carlin's Seven Dirty Words. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DrvAZrDnn4M (Not a live video, just the recording, like it or not, you shitty little c...)"Tits doesn't even belong n the list, man...sounds like a snack, doesn't it...Tater Tits!")
Okay, you f*#kers, I'm going to tinkle now! I may get tangled up in my blue jeans, baby. Hold some thought or other. I'll be back.
|
|
Jaybro
Social climber
Wolf City, Wyoming
|
|
|
Nov 30, 2012 - 08:37am PT
|
""Oh yeah," the twisted organ grinder's monkey cries"
|
|
zBrown
Ice climber
chingadero de chula vista
|
|
|
Nov 30, 2012 - 02:46pm PT
|
Hi Pat:
I can't speak for Mouse (then again who can), but I can offer a little clarification on some of my stuff. A number of photos beginning at John Wesly Hardin(g) are references to Mr. Dylan's John Wesley Hardin song titles in their order of appearance on the album.
JWH -> As I Went Out One Morning -> St Augustine ...
Some of the other stuff is just reactions to things posted in the thread.
Some of the references can be rather obscure. For example, the Dylan (Repenthouse Magazine) can actually be found by seaching on Frankie Lee & Judas Priest via Google.
The rock is a phtographic representation of the Drifer's Escape (#1).
http://mountainproject.com/iPhone?action=showRoute&id=106523084
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Nov 30, 2012 - 03:10pm PT
|
Family-wise, I don't think Dingus is much better off than I have been. Tamales for the wedding, canning tomatos and salsa by the dozens of jars. Learning the secrets of cooking Spanish rice, how to cook fideo, how not to handle chilis.
"Huero! Git yer ass over here! Mija, too much salt, more lard, okay?"
Gramma Rose was a life-ong cannery worker. Her grandkids got raised by her. She was married four times. She never had a kind word, just so you know. She was fierce with others and we were all pendejos and cabrones but with her family, it was all mijas and mi corazons. We two belonged to the same unions, cannery workers and Bermingham-Hernadez, so we got along fine.
It must have helped that I loved making tamales and canning with the girls, because the first time Bevin came over from Castro valley to help one year, she got assigned by Gramma Rose to put the olives in the tamales, a job only worked up to in the Hernandez hierarchy of rollers and stuffers. the other kids knew she meant it as a compliment to Bevin, and a lovingly applied welcome to the family. Rose was wise and knew Bevin had to be part of the group, and a noticeable one. Gramma's ral name was Margaret rose, I think, but she liked the name Rose. [OLIVE DRAB ALERT!] So it stuck.
Her daughter Elsie was a master canner who got certified by UC Extension. She got her realty license and started making decent money in the 80s, even though she had been head shift operator for Pacific Tel and Tel, yet another link between Hernandez and Bermingham, which family was all telephone pioneers.
|
|
zBrown
Ice climber
chingadero de chula vista
|
|
|
Nov 30, 2012 - 03:19pm PT
|
I'd love to get back in and Muddy up the waters, but ... if you gotta go, you gotta go now or else you end up staying all night
[Click to View YouTube Video]
You better come in my kitchen, it's going to be raining outdoors.
That chapel sure looks alot like Bonnie Beecher's apartment building.
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Nov 30, 2012 - 03:42pm PT
|
I learned to glide, trot, and do the cha-cha-cha in that place, then got married in it twenty-nine years later. Eighth grade dancing class and a wedding. It was BITD the "new" hall of the Knights of Pythias Lodge, after their old one burned up downtown, zBrown.
In another time and another place I might have written that it burned down uptown, but this is me, it's Merced. I'm not Hughes, and it's not Harlem.
No Harlem, no foul. In Merced, we have one street called Harlem Ct, and many fowls, thanks to Foster Fowl Farms.
|
|
mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
|
|
|
Nov 30, 2012 - 05:17pm PT
|
This innocent-appearing little lamb and I got in a lot of stink together. Literally. We were caught stealing cigarettes from a local store in Sacto. Our punishment was to sit in front of his parents, my parents and my family and smoke a pack of Camel unfilturds. I made the mistake sf inhaling one time and my mom really blew a gasket, came un-done, hissied out bigtme!
Mike Livermore and I go back to age one and under. I spent several summertime vacations in his company and the family caught up with us in Sacto. His dad was an engineer in PT&T and his wife worked with my Nana in the drugstore where my dad worked during HS in the hub city of Redding.
We hooked up in the fifth grade and then I had to move to Merced, but not before our final fling at the beach in Carpinteria and in the passes of the Sierra, like Monitor, Ebbets, Sonora. We traveled to the W. Walker River, by the USMC base, and campeda week then the delivered me to Merced.
Where I joined Sister Mary Justine's eighth grade class at OLM.
This is when and where I fell in with this guy, another Boy Scout. The Rev.
"Come the revelation revolution there'll be no more to say, everyone will have to tell the truth."--E. Vince Troothson
|
|
Gypsy
Social climber
NC
|
|
|
Nov 30, 2012 - 05:55pm PT
|
The Rev had a laugh like a pileated woodpecker
|
|
|
SuperTopo on the Web
|
Let us know!