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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Feb 20, 2014 - 01:46pm PT
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Lift MacCahir Og your face, brooding oer the old disgrace when
Black Fitzwilliam stormed your place and drove you to the fern.
Grey said victory was sure soon the firebrand hed secure
Til he met at Glenmalure with Fiach MacHugh OByrne
Curse and swear Lord Kildare, Fiach will do what Fiach will dare
Now Fitzwilliam have a care, fallen is your star low
Up with Halberd, out with sword, on well go for by the Lord
Fiach MacHugh has given his word. Follow me up to Carlow.
[fiddles play A section of Swallowtail Jig]
See the swords of Glen Imaal, a flashing oer the English pale
See all the soldiers of the Gael beneath OByrnes banner
Rooster of a fighting stock would yet let the English c*#k
Cry out upon an Irish rock, fly up and teach him manners.
Curse and swear Lord Kildare, Fiach will do what Fiach will dare
Now Fitzwilliam have a care, fallen is your star low
Up with Halberd out with sword, on well go for by the Lord
Fiach MacHugh has given his word. Follow me up to Carlow.
[Intro Instrumental]
[fiddles play A section of Swallowtail Jig]
Now from Tassagart to Clonmore, there flows a stream of Saxon gore
And great is Rory Og OMore at sending loons to Hades
White is sick and Grey has fled, now for Black Fitzwilliams head
Well send it over dripping red, to Liza and her ladies
Curse and swear Lord Kildare, Fiach will do what Fiach will dare
Now Fitzwilliam have a care, fallen is your star low
Up with Halberd out with sword, on well go for by the Lord
Fiach MacHugh has given his word. Follow me up to Carlow.
Curse and swear Lord Kildare, Fiach will do what Fiach will dare
Now Fitzwilliam have a care, fallen is your star low
Up with Halberd out with sword, on well go for by the Lord
Fiach MacHugh has given his word. Follow me up to Carlow.
Or down.
We can maybe have some bouldering on the Dolmen which may be related to zBrown.
Not one of the Monkees have ever seen it, likely, esp. Mickey Dolmen, Circus Freak Boy.
U2/Ordinary Love
The sea wants to kiss the golden shore
The sunlight warms your skin
All the beauty that's been lost before wants to find us again
I can't fight you any more, it's you I'm fighting for
The sea throws rock together but time leaves us polished stones
We can't fall any further
If we can't feel ordinary love
And we can't reach any higher,
If we can't deal with ordinary love
Birds fly high in the summer sky and rest on the breeze.
The same wind will take care of you and I.
We'll build our house in the trees.
Your heart is on my sleeve
Did you put it there with a magic marker?
For years I would believe that the would couldn't wash it away
'Cause
We can't fall any further
If we can't feel ordinary love
And we can't reach any higher
If we cannot deal with ordinary love
Are we tough enough for ordinary love?
We can't fall any further, if
We can't feel ordinary love
And we can't reach any higher,
If we can't deal with ordinary love
We can't fall any further, if
We can't feel ordinary love
And we can't reach any higher,
If we can't deal with ordinary love
Believe me, it's time for a sunbath on the Moussolini Balcony, some plane spotting, some pigeon dropping, and U NO.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Feb 20, 2014 - 07:55pm PT
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But instead
I did head
to V.A. land.
Pneumonia?
Had to check,
What the heck.
No doctor
In today.
Mañanay.
Got a ride:
Merced's pride
The Bus, Gus.
No big fuss,
Miranda's there
In Raley's Square.
I took my camera out for the sake of preparedness.
I know that you never know,
but if you have the camera,
then you can tell
during "show and tell."
So I landed a ride when a friend of Skip's, Neil Camp, saw me and stopped to say, "What's happenin', Mouse?"
Got the appt. and went to the bus stop, but not fast, it was a nice afternoon, lots of time. I went into Miranda's, lately of the Main.
Door stop, wet day, she's there, I say
Please share my umbrella
Door stop, bus goes, she stays, love grows
Under my umbrella.--Hollies
6 bits used to mean seventy-five cents. It was once the price of a shave and a haircut.I'm only flesh and blood
But I can be anything that you demand
I could be president of General Motors baby, heh
or just a tiny little grain of sand.--Al Kooper
Home again, home again,
Jiggety-jig.[photoid=345993Your tail, it makes my heart soar like the hawk, my son. Let's go over to the Mission and see how the fare is tonight."--Old Botched Skins
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neebee
Social climber
calif/texas
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Feb 20, 2014 - 09:04pm PT
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hey there say, mouse... very nice merced stuff...
glad to see you are 'back on the game board' and DID go past go and DID collect 200 BUCKS in 'game credit' (not big game, mind you, that kind of game, fair though it is, in season, might make bucks, less, as well as does??)...
well, track phone is ringing, got to go...
say, check your email later!!!!! also, i got a neat prayer...
will share...
thanks for sharing your camera lense and all it finds by trail!
:)
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neebee
Social climber
calif/texas
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Feb 20, 2014 - 11:11pm PT
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hey there say, mouse... back fast... for the art thread... but say...
as to this:
I was just thinking the other night, on the way over to the Mission,
that a band on the top of the Tioga might be a happening thing,
but the manager of the place, Rose the Compassionate, and her assistant, Tami the Tender,
are both afraid of heights.
that would be really neat... music set up there...
:)
also, love the YARN ABOUT THE THRIFT SHOP...
very nice place!!!
lot's of the pics are now loading...
thank you so much for sharing...
good eve, now... to you all...
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Feb 21, 2014 - 08:09am PT
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I intend to write on the Coonrods and the Larsons, my mom's side of my family,
the ones know as the wild ones to the other side, the Berminghams and the Millers.
They were in their glory days. If you can call the Depression glorious at all,
this might be the place.
How glorious to have worked all night, in a generated-light highway construction site,
only to have to go home watching a sunrise that's coming from directly in front of you,
as you travel over the section of the road you just finished.
How much pride do you feel in the accomplishment?
Or how glorious to have a famous celebrity pop his head in the door of your shop and ask,
"Can I get a shave here, or should I go find a barber, ladies?"
Nana could shave your mug, no problem.
Do you say, after the shave,
"Why, yes, I'd love to go out with you. My husband just went on swing shift.
I'll just close up a little early?"
Nana never was baptized, but Leonard, my grandad, was a Catholic.
As were Gramma and Grampa B. I'm pretty sure their approval rating was good,
because they both did have jobs, when they moved to Redding for the construction of
Shasta Dam at the end of the Great Depression.
Plus, they liked Bobbye, my mom, as who would not?
The result so far in my efforts is one chapter, some half-dozen vignettes, and some research into the past.
It's a pleasant thing, writing about people you knew all your life till their death,
as it memorializes them, shows you cared about the times you shared, and entertains others (one hopes).
It must be quite different for Lilabiene, having no intimate knowledge nor having even spoken to Bill or her mother.
I've been watching The Shadow STrikes, a story about LaMont Granston, the Shadow, in order to get the feel of that era. Besides, it's a mystery, like much of Larson history. I hope to travel to Idaho someday this year.
I need to see more and earlier films, so that the scenes can be accurately described.
"T Hocking, put down that shiv. This is a gunfight, not a knife fight. I like that homburg, by the way."
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujo de la Playa
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Feb 21, 2014 - 10:47am PT
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this just in
climber
north fork
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Feb 21, 2014 - 11:15am PT
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Something is special about the flames. They dance and wave and hypnotize you into a deep stare. People can have long conversations while focussing on the flames, not being rude for not looking at each other while the fires on. I think it's in our DNA to admire what once and still is one of the greatest gifts of this earth, some say by cooking meat it let our stomachs shrink, allowing more energy to develope a more complex brain. We are the only species to cook our meat, but it seems animals have an awe for it as well. They seem to be a little wary of it. I want to do a drawing of a cave man lighting a lighter for the first time. The expression on his face would be total awe and excitement and even some of the animal's wariness. Today a lighter is around a dollar, back then it would have been one of the greatest assets to own.
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throwpie
Trad climber
Berkeley
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Feb 21, 2014 - 01:19pm PT
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A burning fire is the one program we have all watched since the first show, from who knows when.
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujo de la Playa
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Feb 21, 2014 - 03:51pm PT
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Depends on how you look at it.
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujo de la Playa
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Feb 21, 2014 - 04:00pm PT
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Back to carz
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Feb 21, 2014 - 07:18pm PT
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At bottom (and at top, too), a mountain peak is only the manifestation of the inclined plane in nature.
The slope from the gutter to the sidewalk, as well.
An ocean wave is another.
Trains travel on very slight slopes on their rails.
That should do it, except for dog sledding and go karts. And let's not forget the bus, Otay?
Our Raymond CDF station got to contribute their bit to the Watts Riots, by taking care of a station in the Salton Sea area. Glad they did not take me along. I got to go on a real forest fire in Oakhurst. While the blacks were burning their neighborhood, the locals in Madera County tried to burn down (or up) Deadwood Mountain by losing control of their "controlled burn." Good name for a place yer gonna burn: Deadwood.
Nice flames, This Just In.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Feb 22, 2014 - 12:06am PT
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Feb 22, 2014 - 02:50am PT
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Attributed to a 17th C. nun.
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neebee
Social climber
calif/texas
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Feb 22, 2014 - 04:53am PT
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hey there say, mouse... more nice photos... makes me wish i was back at old neighborhood , walking and clicking, with the ol' camera...
well, got more other projects, as of these last few years, so i set that on hold, a bit... but, still got some of that fun, in the ol' back yard, too, :)
did not forget the cars... will wait for perhaps sunday night... hopefully...
happy good week end... :)
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Feb 22, 2014 - 05:21am PT
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The Raven. Christmas Tale, Told By A School-Boy To His Little Brothers And Sisters
Underneath an old oak tree
There was of swine a huge company
That grunted as they crunched the mast
For that was ripe, and fell full fast.
Then they trotted away, for the wind grew high:
One acorn they left, and no more might you spy.
Next came a Raven, that liked not such folly
He belonged, they did say, to the witch Melancholy!
Blacker was he than blackest jet,
Flew low in the rain, and his feathers not wet
He picked up the acorn and buried it straight
By the side of a river both deep and great.
Where then did the Raven go?
He went high and low
Over hill, over dale, did the black Raven go.
Many Autumns, many Springs
Traveled he with wandering wings:
Many summers, many Winters
I can't tell half his adventures.
At length he came back, and with him a She
And the acorn was grown to a tall oak tree.
They built them a nest in the topmost bough,
And young ones they had, and were happy enow.
But soon came a Woodman in leathern guise,
His brow, like a pent-house, hung over his eyes.
He'd an axe in his hand, not a word he spoke,
But with many a hem! and a sturdy stroke,
At length he brought down the poor Raven's own oak.
His young ones were killed; for they could not depart,
And their mother did die of a broken heart.
The boughs from the trunk the Woodman did sever;
And they floated it down on the course of the river.
They sawed it in planks, and its bark they did strip,
And with this tree and others they made a good ship.
The ship, it was launched; but in sight of the land
Such a storm there did rise as no ship would withstand.
It bulged on a rock, and the waves rush'd in fast;
Round and round flew the Raven, and cawed to the blast.
He heard the last shriek of the perishing souls--
See! see! o'er the topmast the mad water rolls!
Right glad was the Raven, and off he went fleet,
And Death riding home on a cloud he did meet,
And he thank'd him again and again for this treat:
They had taken his all; and Revenge it was sweet!
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
(courtesy of rSin, known as the artist JJ, a friend of mine)
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