An inclusive description of a mountain might include the antonyms related to impossible, or possibly its aggressive nature and overall resemblance to the word death; the literal embodiment of what is and isn’t possible for the human body to endure is laughing at you.
Author: Earllllllllllll
Heads or Tails
The single most transformative thing that happened in my life happened in the seventh grade, and despite what you might think, it had nothing to do with a squeaking voice or a damn near uncontrollable testosterone boost. The teacher, with half enthusiasm, let spring-loaded orders float out the corners of her mouth, as they fell on deaf ears. Loading up the paddy wagon, to which it took us to the local hill, formerly known as Ski Gull (which recently tacked on the ironic Mount to its namesake) and take part in the event we knew as skiing.
Continue reading Heads or Tails
Pleasing the Season
I would have told you why I stopped years from now. I would have told you why I started years before then. I would’ve made excuses; I have made excuses. I continue to make excuses but to my surprise, this season has been paying the cranial rent since last it was taken by the tilt of Earth’s rotational axis.
I think about how my body hates me for it. How it hates me for every slam, concussion, and broken bone. It hates me for loving this sport. And yet, my mind still plays hooky with the idea. Snowboarding’s a squeaky wheel; snowboarding’s the whoring mistress that makes the wallet light; snowboarding’s the death on a sunny day. Its birth on a cloudy one.
But the truth is this, it’s got a hold on me as tight as the devil’s stare. Its wretched tail, black as oil stained sheets, curls up my leg until the lies of pleasing euphoria set in—too late it is then. I’ve no longer prescribed to rationale and custom. But I’ve got a hold on it. So long as the grip remains tight, a part of me will always pay homage to the ritual; I’ll always pay the piper; I’ll always please the season.
Atlas On Axis
Nick Tietz: The Thing About Gravity II
It could have been as early as one point five million years ago that early hominids begin using fire. Then, stone tools out of Kenya. Language, bipedalism, and advancements of the cranium. Then we had art… elaborate cave paintings, jewelry, tattoos, and garments. Intelligence, as we know it, has been measured. With carefully collected data we can conceptualize just exactly how human we really are. A constant reminder to ourselves that we really do exist. A real schematic of time and space. Continue reading Nick Tietz: The Thing About Gravity II
Nick Tietz: The Thing About Gravity I
If Roger Keith “Syd” Barrett hadn’t reached for the answers too soon, we’d have never heard such mosaic sounds. And upon his return to Earth, Syd had not found his knowledge easily translated. And soon he became A target for far away laughter. An artist’s greatest skill is not to access the unknown, but rather be accessible to it. The joke of it all is this: the burden is no longer on the shoulders of the artist but rather in the ability for their audience to translate it. Continue reading Nick Tietz: The Thing About Gravity I
Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD)
I’ve had some trouble sleeping lately. My head feels like a block of lead and my mood has flat lined. An Interim daze holds authority while I fade in and out of sleep. My limbs, I would assumed paralyzed, have adopted a mind of their own; they move. My brain stakes its gamble where it should and sacrifices a healthy night’s sleep for thoughts of snowboarding. And while this reality shakes hands with the gatekeeper of dreamland, those thoughts turn to dreams of snowboarding and my limbs act out what they cannot do for seven more months. Continue reading Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD)
Release the Hounds
Release the hounds. The chaos begins at the rope and ends at the next run over. Ignore every siren going off in your brain, every primal extinct: the reflection of fear, insanity, and pain. Embedded in a short period of time is a high you can’t find on any street corner or bar. It’s the kind of euphoria you get when you blend panic and comfort. Every snowboarder and skier finds happiness in this satanic cocktail. It’s only on the rope tow you’ll find this particular atmosphere. There are no breaks. There are no stops. No rules. It’s chugging at an invaders pace until your gloves are filled with holes or your heart is. Continue reading Release the Hounds