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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Jul 31, 2014 - 01:10am PT
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Jul 31, 2014 - 05:54am PT
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It's summer, and the travel bug has bitten many of us. I had it bad today, so I went to the county library for inspiration.
I've had enough of Poland, for now: and Corsica is taken by Gypsy.
I am working at present on yet another travelogue about Merced, Gateway to "America's NP". I'd so like to forestall that...so please help us out here. Variety is the spice here. I get mired in Americed and the old Central Hotel here is nice, but it's not the center of a dang thing.
As much as we Americans poke fun at Scandinavians, Canadians and Wyde Boyz, the French are still viable targets for our jovial 'sneers.' (All in fun, neebee...and Joyeux anniversaire!
They have a great Alpine chain running through their country, of course. It encompasses, however, the Massif Central: as I understand, it is a hodge-podge of volcanic choss, which means little steep climbing, but an abundance of more gentle terrain and some really great grape-growing real estate.
And it's huge.http://www.therocksremain.org/2013/08/geological-road-trip-volcanic.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Puy_de_Sancy
These are merely two samples of the real variety of the region.
It might be that some of you have experienced this area. Please share if you have.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Jul 31, 2014 - 12:02pm PT
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A Splendid Trip On Which To Report: On the Road Again.
GlobalEyes, his spouse Narsissuise, and his bachelor brother-in-law Lemme, are en vancances, as she puts it: they are determined to get “cultured” and to find Pleasure Domes in the WildWood.
They pull up to their host’s little “retreat.”
G.E., reluctantly, goes along with his wife’s “showphistication.” His gilded time away from the grind is to be spent, apparently, in a blaze of snobbishness, boredom, and squandered credit, since he couldn’t have left home without it. He is, of course, footing the bill for Lemme, too.
There is no real “pleasure” at Merry Hall, just as the idea of such never penetrates his home life and real comfort is Hardly Visible. He is desperate to enjoy that which he cannot.
The landscape he travels is a fair reflection of his mundane existence. He tries penning a postcard to his friend MossFossil.
“The scenery here unfolded as I drove. Lemme commented that it was certainly ‘something else.’ He ought to, he’s seen the inside of enough cells to appreciate it. First we passed a few pines. They had some fuzz on them. There were sure a lot of them. Then there were several large piles of rocks, mostly red, some yellow, a few that were gray. Then we came to some more pines. And yellow mud. Many pools of it. The pools were surrounded by these pines and the pines all had fuzz on them. And after a while we came to some more pine trees with more fuzz and then we got to see some more pools of yellow mud. 'Baby,' I said, ‘Have you ever seen more yellow mud outside of your dressing table?’ We stopped, had lunch, then drove back the way we came. It was later in the day, so it was much different. The sun was in my eyes, so I couldn’t tell you exactly what it was we saw. It was pretty fuzzy. You guys should come check it out for yourselves.”
By the time he finishes the postcard, it’s time to go to dinner. They dress up and go to the WasteLand, a four-star literary-themed bistro a mile or so from Merry Hall. It’s run by a guy named Elliot and the cook is a foreign devil named T.S. Faux-Gnome. They serve mostly berries and cream dishes for dessert. They have Blueberry Crumble (no photos of such are available) after a delicious planked grunion prepared a la francaise, which means that it is tiny as hell, but raised wild and served surrounded by orange peel and an olive, lemon on request, and a dab of mayonnaise that reminds him of yellow mud.
The crew arrives back at Merry Hall and G.E. adds a P.S. to the postcard, though there’s just barely room.
“P.S.--The ride home was spectacular in the moonlight. I mean the ride back to Merry Hall. We saw a deer in the headlights. It missed us, though. I’m real glad of that because it looked kinda like your sister’s face when we walked in on her and what’s-his-face, the guy that looks like Lungo. Can you believe that?”
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Jul 31, 2014 - 12:10pm PT
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Eureka!
As fate would have it, This Just In might wish it, and we have Bluelens to thank. That's twice inside seven months I get to lay thanks at yer feet, lady. Thanks and thanks some more!
"Bone apetite."
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Jul 31, 2014 - 12:41pm PT
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And arriving back home, refreshed and rejuvenated, the grind doesn't seem so bad at all, except for the pets have got a bit nervous.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Jul 31, 2014 - 12:48pm PT
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A doo. I need a nap.
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujò de la Playa
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Nothing like a bad character review from Sonny Barger. Were any of these folks in on the 1977 plane crash?
[Click to View YouTube Video]
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neebee
Social climber
calif/texas
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hey there say, mouse... just stopped in to say 'hey there'...
:)
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujò de la Playa
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Bob Dylan said meeting George changed his life. In Dylan's book The Chronicles: Volume One, Dylan recounts a story of meeting Gorgeous George in person. He wrote, "He winked and seemed to mouth the phrase, `You're making it come alive.' I never forgot it. It was all the recognition and encouragement I would need for years."
http://www.heydullblog.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/01/a4161e42.jpg
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Bob tells us in Buckets of Rain (how ironic, eh?)
I been meek, and hard like an oak
I seen pretty people disappear like smoke
Friends will arrive, friends will disappear
If you want me, honey baby
I'll be here
And then, in Idiot Wind he sings/croaks:
I ran into the fortune-teller who said beware of lightning that might strike
I haven't known peace and quiet for so long I can't remember what it's like
There's a lone soldier on the cross smoke pouring out of a boxcar door
You didn't know it you didn't think it could be done in the final end he won the wars
After losing every battle.
And then, in Mr. Tambourine Man, it gets heavy, like the smoke pall over the Ditch today.
Then take me disappearin' through the smoke rings of my mind,
Down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves,
The haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach,
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow.
For the show-stopper there is his Sad Dyed Lady of the Lowlands:
With your mercury mouth in the missionary times
And your eyes like smoke and your prayers like rhymes
And your silver cross, and your voice like chimes
Oh, who do they think could bury you ?
It’s all in how you roll.
[Click to View YouTube Video]
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujò de la Playa
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GG wrestled Leonard Skinner and kicked his butt (his hair was perfect - obviously Leonard's wasn't).
I’m listening to Neil Young, I gotta turn up the sound
Someone’s always yelling turn it down
Feel like I’m drifting
Drifting from scene to scene
I’m wondering what in the devil could it all possibly mean?
[Click to View YouTube Video]
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujò de la Playa
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I JUST NOTICED THAT THIS THREAD IS UNDERPERFORMING (POSTS LESS THAN 5000) AND IT IS NOW ADDED TO THE WATCHLIST. IF THE PEOPLE POSTING HERE CANNOT PERFORM TO the STaNDARD that has been set by our committee, IT MAY WELL BECOME A CANDIDATE FOR THE DREAD DELETION. EITHER THAT OR THE DREAD LOCKS. I'M NOT CERTAIN WHICH.
Natty Dread
Natty Bumpo (for Ron)
Credit whre crdit is due, I guess
http://www.angelfire.com/weird2/astrofanne/Natty.jpg
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zBrown
Ice climber
Brujò de la Playa
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Just trying to keep up my end of the load, I'll report on an interesting phenonmen I have observed. First, however, I'll ask, do any of our intrepid readers get asked frequently for directions on how to get somewhere or where such-and-such is located?
Some folks are much more inclined to be asked for directions than others. I fall into this group. UC Berkeley, Laguna Beach, Balboa Park, The Yosemite National Park, Imperial Beach, Ensenada, Stinson Beach, Mt. Tam ... folks are inclined to walk up and ask.
I have never really attempted to catalogue the inquirers, but I always respond with very good directions, usually incorporating a "if you get to X, then you've gone too far" postulate.
Fortunately, I rarely get asked "where you from?", though I have encountered more than a few "you lookin' at me's", having spent a lot of time in the SouthWestern segment of the USA.
As a corollary, I was quite frequently able to just walk into concerts and other entertainment venues by appearing "to belong there".
Did you attend the "Linda Ronstadt/Stone Poneys Concert?" The free concert? Why yes I did.
BTW, whatever became of Waddy (not Deddeh, Wachtel)?
Linda at thirty-something looks almost as good as Chele at 68.
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Lack of activity is noted.
"Man!"
[Click to View YouTube Video]
Fake Blues"
Just last year seems so long
When I used to live alone
Now I sell sh#t on the phone
'Cause I don't wanna live at home
Uh oh
Well it's not as if I choose
To be settled with these fake blues
But your worries ain't so different from my own
Though I'm far more accident prone
People ask me for my name
But this number's just the same
If this all is just a game
I have only myself to blame
Uh oh
Well it's not as if I choose
To be settled with these fake blues
But I gotta find a reason to write this song
And I won't be here for long
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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Victoria Spivey knows the Blues, indeed. And so does the Mouse. --Gary 'What Is the Blues" Soyouknow
Dan, the Steel Man, challenged me. WTF!
Moderate by today's standards, Otay?
"I can dance to it, Dick."
"What about you, Jane? Has it got 'that beat?'"
"Hey, let's get real, Mr. Clark. I've heard better and worse."
[Click to View YouTube Video]
Big Blonde Lovers, there's a party going on inside, apparently.
At least she isn't in the same league as VS.
[Click to View YouTube Video]"Your mouth is a roller coaster but your mind is just a big brass bed."
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mouse from merced
Trad climber
The finger of fate, my friends, is fickle.
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In the blink of an eye, there go I.
And before I can cry, "I'm gone,"
I am,
In the blink of an eye.
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