Monday, March 15, 2010

The bird in pink, 12 hours later

Escrito por Riley a 3/15/2010
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5 comments:

  1. Human Side Press3/15/2010

    Sure would be nicer to see her without the mask and bandages on. She looks dressed enough to go discover the Northwest Passage. Before she goes you might remind her that even if she finds it it's actually been found before, and, in any case, other shipping routes have invalidated its economic advantage.

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  2. Anonymous3/15/2010

    Will have to dig through the photo-archives for any other images of this one then.

    The irony of the bandages shall not be lost: On this very lift ride, a quick conversation with a third passenger, something like this:

    Man: So how did you two meet?

    Bird: We met at a bar, last night.

    Man: What happened?

    Bird: He came up and talked to us. At first we wondered if he was gay. Then, we had fun talking for a while and decided to come up here.

    Man: So you think he's gay?

    Me: I'm not fucking gay, man. I saw this bird and decided to hit on her. Now we're here.

    Man: What else happened? What did you say? Why did you think he was gay? See... I have this girl I want to hit on but don't know how......

    Me: I'm not fucking gay man. It was spontaneous.

    I came away from this conversation with a couple observations, the most crucial, who the fuck was this guy to judge whether I had achieved anything at all, you know, in landing a day on the hill with this bird, with her face all bandaged up like so. She could be, with no offense intended towards this arbitrarily-linked group of individuals, a burn victim or something.

    For the record, I was not dressed for discovering any passage, economically feasible or otherwise. Warmth and comfort come from within. My face is exposed to the wind and snow, and it does not disappoint when it is intense and cold, for I am on top of a fucking mountain.

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  3. Human Side Press3/15/2010

    Well, it's mountains you're talking about. I know nothing of them really. Ridden a bunch of black ones on the Europe maps, but that was in the Pyrenees a decade ago and I've done none of that riding on this continent. Where I am there is no thought of the mountain. The Wiconsinian Glacier trimmed them off 100,000 year ago. There is a whole mountain culture that seems interesting. I have a lot to learn about Denver's Golden Age.

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  4. D5583/15/2010

    "Hey bay-bee, you know my favorite country?"
    "No, what?"
    "Hey bay-bee, Djibouti."

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  5. Riley3/15/2010

    The mountains offer a commonality for millions of fucktards on this front range during this Golden Age.

    The mountains do offer a wide range of experiences and a way to learn things about the self.

    Riding a couch to the top of these mountains seems to be the most popular (in terms of millions of visitors). Bird in pink loves this method, but also loves hiking them. Maximin and I, we chose to ride if possible. My summer will be completed SPIRITUALLY by climbing a particular peak in the SW corner of the state, Hesperus ("Dibé Ntsaa" or "Dibentsaa").

    On a bike, the mountain makes you prove it. People can latch on to trucks to get around the city quicker (that's not a slight; I think its fucking awesome), but the mountains force you to prove it. Sure, you can haul balls up any stretch of road, but what will you do up Juniper Pass? No, seriously, what will you do...?

    Go to a bar in Denver, during this Golden Age. Listen to the conversations. Sure as ice will melt in their homes, fucktards will tell tall tails of bravery and courage, and women will lap it up as kittens do warmish milk. These fucktards will live to see another day, because they will not challenge the mountain.

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