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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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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujo de la Playa
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Feb 22, 2014 - 10:31am PT
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Crash on the Levee mama (or near it anyway) N 32° 36.151 W 116° 50.696
The pilot and co-pilot--and, to a lesser extent, a Federal Aviation Administration employee who gave them instructions--were officially blamed Monday for the plane crash on Otay Mountain last year that killed eight members of country singer Reba McEntire's band.
The twin-engine executive jetliner slammed into 3,570-foot Otay Mountain at 1:43 a.m. on March 16, 1991, about three minutes after it took off from Brown Field, near the U.S.-Mexico border.
All 10 on board were killed, including pilot Don Holms; co-pilot, Chris Hollinger; tour manager Jim Hammon, and musicians Chris Austin, Paula Evans, Terry Jackson, Kirk Cappello, Michael Thomas, Anthony Saputo and Joey Cigianero. McEntire and other members of her entourage were on another plane.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Feb 22, 2014 - 11:20am PT
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It's Lenny![Click to View YouTube Video]You were expecting that wannabe Copland?
Cheese!!!
CANDIDE CAMERA
F-stop It, Mouse, you leave your house,
Each day has different light,
The scenes you shoot are much the same,
One day you’ll get them right.
You look at things with glassy eyes
At mountains, cars, and cloudy skies,
You snap the scene, the face, the “look,”
You’d like to make a picture book.
And so you edit, edit, edit,
Crop and chop and fade,
Maybe someday God will grant
Your fortune to be made.
"Cela est bien dit, répondit Candide, mais il faut cultiver notre jardin."
-Monsieur Voltaire
Now the way I see it, the best things in life are free.
Souls, for example.
I could have started an ordinary thread, for sure, and called it "The Blames." But how original is that on the Supertopo?
Not very.
We'll take the drivel and drive it out to the end of the pier, dump it, smoke a jay and hear some tunes. And take a few pix to post on This Just In's or on Guido's threads, for instance, where no acrimony exists.
Bastions in the sky keep on turning a blind eye to the rest of the cruddy world of politics, eco-freaks, and hate-mongers.
I'm happiest in our own garden, with my friends, few but valued and loyal and some of whom actually still climb.
5.6, ISO 800, let's all go to Coffee Bandits. I'm NOT buying today. I'm sober.
Have a Great Saturday and I hope you come home safe.
With images.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Feb 22, 2014 - 12:15pm PT
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Fire On the Mountain
Long distance runner, what you standin' there for?
Get up, get out, get out of the door
Your playin' cold music on the barroom floor
Drowned in your laughter and dead to the core
There's a dragon with matches that's loose on the town
Takes a whole pail of water just to cool him down
Fire! Fire on the mountain
Almost ablaze still you don't feel the heat
It takes all you got just to stay on the beat
You say it's a livin', we all gotta eat
But you're here alone, there's no one to compete
If Mercy's a bus'ness, I wish it for you
More than just ashes when your dreams come true
Fire! Fire on the mountain
Long distance runner, what you holdin' out for?
Caught in slow motion in a dash for the door
The flame from your stage has now spread to the floor
You gave all you had. Why you wanna give more?
The more that you give, the more it will take
To the thin line beyond which you really can't fake
Naux faux in this civilly-run thread. McNaughton much!
Vaya con dios, Ian. Gaux with God, sir.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Feb 22, 2014 - 12:42pm PT
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Jesus says to his followers, "The Flames of Hell shall not prevail.
And The Flames of Merced shall ride low and cruise slow and they are our homies.
Go now and spread the Word. Please take some more fishes and loaves, too, by all means, guys. How did you like the wine? Cana, '33."
"Lord?"
"Yes, James, son of Thunder?"
"I thought we were to go fishing down at Briceburg."
"Well, eventually. But I think Paradise can wait."
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujo de la Playa
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Feb 22, 2014 - 01:21pm PT
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Barrett Junction, (east of Otay Mtn. - courtesy of Wheelbase Magazine))
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Feb 22, 2014 - 02:41pm PT
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Psiliboy, please, why no knee pads?
Alla same, a great time was had watching that one! Whew!
And name that tune, por favor.
And thank you for them tunes you passed along!
But I left Ed Phones at the bar, bud.
[Click to View YouTube Video]For ewNice.* No more mentioning of wizards and witches.
Civility Code, U.C. Luke's Veritas is mine, too.
Luke 6:27-36
English Standard Version (ESV)
Love Your Enemies
27 “But I say to you who hear, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, 28 bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. 29 To one who strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also, and from one who takes away your cloak do not withhold your tunic[a] either. 30 Give to everyone who begs from you, and from one who takes away your goods do not demand them back. 31 And as you wish that others would do to you, do so to them.
32 “If you love those who love you, what benefit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. 33 And if you do good to those who do good to you, what benefit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. 34 And if you lend to those from whom you expect to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to get back the same amount. 35 But love your enemies, and do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return, and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High, for he is kind to the ungrateful and the evil. 36 Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful.
Merced downtown's a violence and hate free place, like this one.
It all begins here, in Middle Earth, in the middle of California.
* Satire seeks to hold up the mirror, not to break it.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Feb 22, 2014 - 02:49pm PT
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Big Music, Big Band.
Old school rock and roll.
zBrown's good today, in'he?
[Click to View YouTube Video]Rock 'n' roll Saturday.
Not Spanky and Our Gang.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Feb 22, 2014 - 03:05pm PT
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Four tee tude.
A soupcon of attitude.
Buds, let's not be too crude.
Several ladies are present.
Kakawete. I think it is also called ST. VINCENT'S PLUM.They are so broke, they need St. Vincent's thrifty ways, so they certainly shop there.
I got some wine glasses there last year.
One broke when I packed it up when the roaches got sprayed, and I didn't know.
I nearly cut my hand on the thing, two nights ago, whist shifting things around,
looking for something else in that basket of kitchen items.
I was being protected, I believe, from a partial faux stigmata.
"The sound of one hand bleeding matches the rhythm of one heart bleeding."
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Feb 22, 2014 - 03:43pm PT
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More street shots from last Saturday.Gentle people with powers in their chairs. She moves right along in that rig, quite happy to be alive and in the sun.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Feb 22, 2014 - 04:55pm PT
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Wonderful book, Misfortune, by Wesley Stace. There is a (dead) sister of the protagonist named Dolores. He spend his time inside a doll house conversing and playing with her shade. She fell to her death from a tree while they contemplated the clouds in the high branches. She was only five. She is AKA Anonymous(e).
Complications abound: He is in need of an heir, apparently, to satisfy his mum, who is not mum, just lays in bed and cannot move her limbs, waiting for him to regenerate the Loveall; Pharaoh delivers and manages to escape to live another day. The tyke is supposedly a he, but really a she. How can a she inherit in the early eighteenth century under British law?
I'm just now getting into it. It's like candy. A chapter a day keeps the Doctor away. It's very funny in parts, and full of lore about the richest folk in Great Britain (not very nice), as well as the poorest (some nice, like some mice). Very like Dickens.
That said, it's a beautiful day. I'm takin' it to the streets.
Ciao for niaow.
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujo de la Playa
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Feb 23, 2014 - 12:01am PT
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Big fifty year high school reunion coming up in September. There's a website and all. So this is a duplicate post I guess.
[Click to View YouTube Video]
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Feb 23, 2014 - 12:57am PT
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Kazantzakis can dance,
Zanz can't dance.
Let us dance & sing,
Ching, ching, ching.
[Click to View YouTube Video]
UC είναι αρκετά για εσάς;
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Feb 23, 2014 - 01:42am PT
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Manana, super people and super trolls.
See ya to da bike race, eh?
This ain't no troll.
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