I dream of a hard and brutal mysticism in which the naked self merges with a non-human world and yet somehow survives still intact, individual, separate. Paradox and bedrock.
Telebabe.
In spite of, or perhaps motivated by, the cold weather we drank deep from the ski-crack today. Using my skin track from Thursday, we busted a buncha laps in the lower clearcut, then headed back up and enjoyed the even better snow in the upper glades. We left when we got tired, then did one more lap. Post-ski catatonia was ensured by an enhanced pint of Switchback Stout (enhanced with a shot of espresso-flavored vodka, which makes it a sublime dessert and a tasty beer all in one).
Three cheers for telebabes! And while we’re at it, three cheers for ski-crack, and stout too.
There was some serious ski crack this weekend. We went back on Sunday, and my enthusiasm the day before became evident when I bonked on the last two laps and was almost going backwards up the skin track.
And it’s been snowing all afternoon.
Bedrock & Paradox 
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