Aimless
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Lower Upper South Wall, or The Approach to Lower Little (But Growing Like a Weed and Cute as a Button, However, We're a Little Concerned About The Language) Bastard, or Left and Down a Ways From The Flow Above and Right, or Right of The Stuff At Left Out of View. Or something. Else. Entirely.
We have no idea. It also had no name. There was trundling, the donning of a high-peaked hat and aviator goggles, haybailing with the new John Deere machine, the necessary chicken feeding and egg retrieval (that rooster thinks he's the cock of the walk, I tell you), some really quite elegant ballroom dancing (despite the overstarched ruffles on the costumes), the singing of hymns, a frank and unflinching discussion of Ernest Borgnine's later performances (say," Airwolf" [1984] to "BASEketball" [1998]), oyster shucking, a meeting of the Otis Redding Appreciation Society, some unintentional but still quite reasonably safe simulclimbing, and, as if on cue, the cows did come home. It was a magical time on Walton Mountain. Goodnight John Boy. I wallowed, then built a belay. Brian led out. We went up. That's what we did. |
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