jim morrison was not a sport climber

21 05 2008

'i'm on belay brah'


In this episode of ICFTG i’m going to come clean: i like to drink beer, and while drinking said beer, i often like to smoke myself a cigarette…or 12. i, like my dead bro jim morrison, like to party.

freud would describe this as my (and jim’s, janice’s, and jimmy’s) ‘death drive’, or my (our) urge to not exist in a world bereft of experience. while i agree a world of (un)experience is a reality for many of my ‘human’ peeps, i am pretty sure i’m not not experiencing the world in a way that compels me to die sooner. i know this because i clip bolts and….um… sing along to musicals in my car (and your car if you’ll let me).  so i don’t smoke and drink to kill myself: freud was wrong. but what of the radical disjunct between my urge to ‘debauch’ (as in debauchery) and my climbing motivated urge to be ‘fit’? i mean, how does 12 pitches in the southern region translate to a 6 pack of PBR at Miguel’s?  more generally, (having seen the morrison-esque wreckage that is a comp party, a night at hp40, or a monday at miguel’s in may) how do we reconcile our partying and our training and climbing?




a drink to your health

15 05 2008

as a climber, i feel i often take for granted certain qualities bestowed upon me by climbing, that would i otherwise have received,  been quite grateful.  health and fitness primarily.  this most recent revelation was made apparent to myself this past weekend, not by some extreme showmanship of said health and fitness, but rather by the abject performance i gave all night friday when i was made to understand that i had gotten food poisoning.  words cannot describe the agony of discharging your entire system, in multiple modes, until 6 a.m.  words can describe however the most bitch’in-est ab workout i have ever gotten, ever.

what the hell?

i mean i was sore.  really sore.  and all i could think about was, damn, if i was as fat and out of shape as the rest of the population, this would suck even worse.  in fact, i attribute my two day comeback entirely to my rigid regime of beer and climbing, that without, would have made for a week long waylay.  and on the plus side, with my added ab strength, i can now fully utilize those no hands knee-bars i’ve been trying in futility to use on those routes i’ve been climbing.

its strange though that it was in my weakest moment, cursing myself for having too much pride to go to the hospital, that i reflected upon how strong i had become.  for at that moment i felt like a piece of ragged man-flesh, too sorry to even stand, much less survive at anything.  contrast this to the feeling of invincibility and feeling of being able to take on a small mountain lion or a 20 footer and the discrepancy becomes more clear.  climbing has built me into an invincible, boulder conquering machine.

but it can all be taken away in an instant with nothing more than a tainted piece of food, innocently slipped onto a rivals plate at a posh dinner or cocktail party.  so raise your drinks all around and toast- toast to your good health and infallible rock conquering skills!  drink to your health and your nemesis’ ineptitude and may you crush for 100 years!

-the architect

the compromises we make

15 04 2008

the ultimate stick brushin a little less than eleven hours, i am going to wake up at 4:00 a.m. i will then proceed to gather my bouldering bag, my chalkpot, the best bouldering stick-brush ever made (see left), and my two crashpads to meet patrick in my parking lot. over the next four to five hours we will drive down i-65 to chattanooga and deposit ourselves at our local boulderfield, little rock city. having gotten there at approximately 9:00 a.m., we will then have around eight hours to pull down, before getting back in the car and driving another four to five hours back to lexington, so that patrick can get up early for work on monday morning.

sometimes people ask me what it’s like to be a climber in kentucky.

i usually restrain the urge to ask them what it’s like to a climber with no talent- but the question remains. and further still, what is it that compels us chosen few (we rock wranglers who have answered the call to fame, fortune and immense driving distances) to continue to pursue our quest of rock climbing adventure at the expense of a traditional lifestyle? what has turned me from a mild mannered mahout to a shifty-eyed sheik that eyes passing dark clouds with so much disdain and contempt? how did i come to this place, and more importantly, why do i stay?

i don’t think it’s the money. or the girls. and i don’t think as a heterosexual individual i can say that it is the guys. but they’re usually pretty cool, in a heterosexual way. like as friends, and shit.

i’m not gay.

it could be as simple as allowing me the chance to complete a problem in front of a bunch of people i don’t know so that i can exclaim in a loud voice:

“now that’s what i call rockclimbing!”

or introducing myself to more strangers in such a manner as:

“hi, i’m dave stumblefoot mc mudbutted bedwetting manpants- but you can call me the hamburglar.”

but i think it is more than this.

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news flash: gideons are real

10 04 2008

the Gideons are real. as in there are people that might say “i am a Gideon”. it’s not as glamorous as scientology (mostly because it lacks the word science), but it still has enough tolkien-esque flair to get a dude laid at a renaissance festival. as it turns out these ‘fellowship’ makers not only stock hotel rooms, hospitals, and military break rooms with The Word, but they also hand out little bibles on the street. so if you were wondering: Gideons are real. they are not bible ninjas that sneak into institutional spots with a sack full o’ gospel. they drop that shiz on tha streetz kid.

in other news (related to rockclimbing):

Adam Ondra recently polished off Dreamtime (v13) in a day. not only is this an unprecedented send, but it’s gonna put some serious pressure on me when I finally make it to Cresciano.

Dave Graham just opened a new v15 in Font (a place with 1789 straight-ups graded 7A or harder).

i continue to fail to send my two remaining Tucson projects (7B+ and a long 7A+/7B). pictures of said failure coming in the next few days. i blame two pulley injuries, but it’s quite possible i drank away my ability to crush boulder problems last month. evidence: 1) after falling on the last move repeatedly (on the 7B+) in March, i now find myself unable to stick the first move. 2) a huge assortment of beer bottles in my kitchen floor.