I'm becoming less defined, as days go by
Fading away, well you might say I'm losing focus
Kind of drifting into the abstract in terms of how I see myself
Sometimes, I think I can see right through myself
Sometimes, I think I can see right through myself
Sometimes, I can see right through myself
Less concerned, about fitting into the world
Your world that is, cause it doesn't really matter anymore
(No, it doesn't really matter anymore)
No, it doesn't really matter anymore
^^This song was the soundtrack to my day yesterday. ("Only," by Nine Inch Nails.) I probably repeated it 30 times. Nobody, but nobody, can make menacing grooves like Nine Inch Nails.
The sun kissed the Spanish Peaks good morning.
It was a strange day. A cold front passed through. Not just any cold front. It was a "holy-shit-my-eyeballs-just-froze-in-my-sockets" cold front.
This is a blurry picture of my car's thermometer, telling me it was -12.
By noon, though, it was 30 degrees. That is a 42 degree temperature swing, which seems somewhat insane to me. Did somebody at headquarters spill a Pepsi on the Evil Climate Control Machine?
The Gallatin River was steaming. When 32 degree water steams, you know it is cold.
My groove on the mountain was not quite as tight and menacing as Nine Inch Nails', especially in the morning... but I got it going later on.
Snow conditions were too firm for the Big Couloir yesterday. In fact, most of the runs off the tram were fairly deadly. I ended up sliding out during a transition to a toe-side turn on a steep chute called "Lenin."
This resulted in me on my stomach, sliding face-first down the mountain.
Since it was so slick, there wasn't much I could do for the first 40-50 feet, except contemplate shitting my pants.
Once the snow softened, I pounded both fists into the snow, uppercut-style, and dug my board in hard to self-arrest.
Once I came to a stop what did I do?
Why, I finished the run, spun around to the tram and dropped into the exact same run again... what did you think I did?
I am beginning to think I may be a bit "touched."
Not right... in the head.
Here is an oddball-perspective shot of my camelback tube, then my feet, as I am laying back into the mountain on a very steep run.
Wilderness.
Sadly, I think I have outgrown my old boarding gear. I broke my boot during yesterday's pounding, and my bindings are starting to get creaky.
I've gotten better in the six years I've been riding this rig, and I need something lighter and more responsive.
Think transitioning from comfy sedan to sports car.
Sorry, old gear.
It's time to move on.
It's not you... it's me. I've changed.
Out with the old.
In with the new.
Sometimes, I think I can see right through myself
Sometimes, I think I can see right through myself
Sometimes, I can see right through myself
Less concerned, about fitting into the world
Your world that is, cause it doesn't really matter anymore
(No, it doesn't really matter anymore)
No, it doesn't really matter anymore
^^This song was the soundtrack to my day yesterday. ("Only," by Nine Inch Nails.) I probably repeated it 30 times. Nobody, but nobody, can make menacing grooves like Nine Inch Nails.
The sun kissed the Spanish Peaks good morning.
It was a strange day. A cold front passed through. Not just any cold front. It was a "holy-shit-my-eyeballs-just-froze-in-my-sockets" cold front.
This is a blurry picture of my car's thermometer, telling me it was -12.
By noon, though, it was 30 degrees. That is a 42 degree temperature swing, which seems somewhat insane to me. Did somebody at headquarters spill a Pepsi on the Evil Climate Control Machine?
The Gallatin River was steaming. When 32 degree water steams, you know it is cold.
My groove on the mountain was not quite as tight and menacing as Nine Inch Nails', especially in the morning... but I got it going later on.
Snow conditions were too firm for the Big Couloir yesterday. In fact, most of the runs off the tram were fairly deadly. I ended up sliding out during a transition to a toe-side turn on a steep chute called "Lenin."
This resulted in me on my stomach, sliding face-first down the mountain.
Since it was so slick, there wasn't much I could do for the first 40-50 feet, except contemplate shitting my pants.
Once the snow softened, I pounded both fists into the snow, uppercut-style, and dug my board in hard to self-arrest.
Once I came to a stop what did I do?
Why, I finished the run, spun around to the tram and dropped into the exact same run again... what did you think I did?
I am beginning to think I may be a bit "touched."
Not right... in the head.
Here is an oddball-perspective shot of my camelback tube, then my feet, as I am laying back into the mountain on a very steep run.
Wilderness.
Sadly, I think I have outgrown my old boarding gear. I broke my boot during yesterday's pounding, and my bindings are starting to get creaky.
I've gotten better in the six years I've been riding this rig, and I need something lighter and more responsive.
Think transitioning from comfy sedan to sports car.
Sorry, old gear.
It's time to move on.
It's not you... it's me. I've changed.
Out with the old.
In with the new.
posted by Joe at
7:23 AM
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