rOcktober

I suck at poker because I never play. So I suppose I can’t say for sure that I suck at poker. But anything one can be good at without practicing is stupid. Although, I can think of stuff that’s stupid even if one practices it religiously. Anyways. It is my understanding a poker player can produce an advantage by stashing extra cards up his sleeve. When the time comes this player will augment his hand with a choice card, thereby stacking the odds against an opponent. Using this as a metaphor for my situation with my project at Mr. Lee’s I will say I have no more cards up my sleeve. That is, I’m hosed. I’m playing fair from here on out and the odds are certainly not in my favor. Of all the cards a climber may sneak into his hand while sitting across the table from his big project I have played them all. I suffered early-season volume days to set up a strong taper, I committed twenty-something days this season to dialing in beta, weather throughout the year has been extraordinarily good, weather last weekend was the best of the year, I’ve stayed healthy… All this amounted to about 18-inches of progress on Saturday. Now I’m trying to read my project’s tell and I think he’s holding a straight. Not cool, destiny. Now I’m playing even odds. Buddhist Palm WAS against the ropes. I’ve been laying into him with heavy hands for five rounds. He should be coughing blood but he’s whispering at me through his gloves like, “is that all you got?” And, yeah, that’s all I got. Now I’m exactly where I didn’t want to be. The climbing season’s ticking away and I’m locked in a war of attrition. There’s no hail Mary play in the works. The tactic now is to battle every inch between here and chains – the slow fight; the most tedious and miserable way to send.

things (and stuff)

I didn’t have super great video of Micah campusing when I posted the last time, which was a shame because he was campusing way hard. Now that he’s laid up in the hospital again he’s found time to forward me this:

That’s 1-5-8 then 1-6-bump-7. There’s been some issue lately regarding proper dimensions on campus boards. The spacing is 22cm. That’s TWENTY-TWO CENTIMETERS (aka: THE STANDARD). Fairness cuts both ways so I will say the rungs he’s on are big, the biggest I’ve ever been on, and they’re huge. I believe this was shot on Micah’s iStoopid so excuse the “quality”.

He also reminded of this:

…and that Dre accomplished the hardest female ascent at Mr. Lee’s Greater Hong Kong when she cranked out Sea of Love (12c) in May:

I hate saying ‘female ascent’ but my thoughts on the topic are not yet fully formed so I will not articulate them at this time. Regardless, Dre is a rad climber and her hair is super long.

Phil and I were at Mr. Lee’s last weekend. Again. Projecting Buddhist Palm. Again. Motivation is proving a rare commodity as I approach this season’s twentieth day of work. Yeah.

Jews and Gentiles agree: legs suck and campusing is rad

It’s been about a year since the last time I posted anything to my blog. Not that I’ve had nothing to write about; it’s that I started this new job and I believe my boss has no soul. Actually, I know this. He is also the one who introduced me to Owl Tor. But I digress. My purpose today is to review for those who care the significant events of the previous twelve months.

Summer 2009 – Last summer saw Micah and me hanging out on the regular. We were climbing at all sorts of rad places like… the Splash Zone (to get there: look for the raddest Wu Bat ever).

And we were climbing a bunch at Mr. Lee’s Greater Hong Kong. Because it’s rad.

Micah is Jewish and his Mom hates when people make that distinction so this is the second of four times I will refer to his religion in this post.

We were all kickin’ it and stuff, climbing and getting all tan and junk – then Micah went climbing with Bob in Bishop and fell off this:

…and broke his stupid leg.

Severely.

On Micah’s third day at Mammoth Hospital I got up early, called in sick, sent Smooth Criminal, then drove out with Bob to retrieve him. I dedicate my ascent to the Jewish faith:

This is the expression I have when I ridicule someone for being a pussy:

And sure enough, I fell off this two months later:

…tore stupid ankle ligaments…

…had surgery…

…and got to initial my own foot. I’d like to give a shout out to Dr. Pearson, who is truly rad.

Recovery sucked, as per usual…

For some reason people would think Micah and I had simultaneous skiing accidents when we crutched around together.

Fortunately we both had the foresight to keep our hands tucked in during our respective accidents, focusing the impact on our useless ankles to save our better appendages for future endeavors. Our arms were unaffected and probably a bit angry. Before leg rehab would glimmer on the horizon we were campusing.

We were campusing a lot. Micah got wicked strong and now cranks down 1-5-8 like it’s boring.

My trivial injury healed right up. For Micah the saga continues. Long story short, my Jewish friend got all emotional about life or something.

Now it’s like you can’t hang with just Micah. You have to chill with his stupid leg all the time too. Where before there was healthy flesh there has grown a parasitic personality. And while Micah sleeps I believe this conjoined entity talks him into thinking all sorts of feminine thoughts that make him sound like a little girl when he drinks.

I’m back climbing at Mr. Lee’s, projecting Buddhist Palm with Phil. Last Saturday was like the sixteenth day of work this season.

Phil’s still doing the same thing. He’s Phil.

Brian too has kept it real meanwhile:

"Climbing is like lifting weights in the woods." from Thrice on Vimeo.

Last Friday Micah moved up to Eugene to start an MBA program at the University of Oregon. I told him two years in the Pacific Northwest will make his hippie ass wish he was interning at a Palestinian meat packing plant, but no one listens to Elijah. Truth be told, I might maybe a little… miss his stupid ass.