hello hip flexors

jenn and i had a fantastic weekend of hiking. we did mad creek on saturday, and it was gorgeous. the weather was just cool enough, the skies were clear but with high clouds that kept the sun at bay, and all the aspens are leafed out in beautiful shades of green. this is the trail where the dogs blew out their paws last year, but thanks to a spring of yampa core trail walks, the dogs were just fine.

on sunday i fished the stagecoach tailwater. caught a couple rainbows, the first one as big as that picture on the page i just linked. but, alas, i broke both of my rods that day out of sheer clumsiness and stupidity. but that's another post.

jenn and i hiked to upper fish creek falls on monday. this is a gorgeous trail, and the creek is just pumping right now so the falls were spectacular. it's probably 1600-1800 feet of elevation gain to the upper falls, and i'm very proud of us for doing it, but dang am i sore.

these were our first real hikes of the season, and there will be many more to come. next up - the sarvis creek trail, to catch those brook trout i saw in that big pool last summer. after that, when the snow is gone, the spooky devil's causeway. and then, by august - a fourteener.

link o' the day:

jenn and i are going to milwaukee for 5 days for a conference of hers. here's where i plan on spending some time while she's conferencing.

purty! 

silverthorne, how i love thee...

the cold clear waters of the blue river, soaring mountain peaks, the smell of convenience store nacho cheese mingling with pine sap, and the roar of the interstate humming in your ears as semis fly past over your head.

what a weird fishing experience, but when the browns are this pretty i guess i can deal with it.

link o' the day:

if you fish colorado (dad!) you need to go here for reports.

there is no hell...

like entertainment tonight or e!news.

additionally, i fart in the general direction of people magazine, us weekly, and star magazine.

i have finally admitted something to myself. i hate celebrity worship. i hate 99% of celebrities. i love movies, but i hate most of the people who act in them. i hate the sycophants who report on celebrities (yeah i'm talking about you, ryan seacrest and melissa rivers).

who f*%king cares what beyonce wore at cannes?

if i see one more picture of eva longoria, i'm going to make a voodoo doll in her image and start stabbing pins into its eyes.

i don't give two shits about brangelina and their f*#king adopted babies.

and tom cruise can take his scientology and "psychiatry is a pseudoscience" and stick it right up his uptight bunghole. he's an idiot.

they're all so clueless, so vapid, so... so... needy.

i hate them.

man, do i feel better.

sorry for the absence

hi all.

i'll post something more here later this week, but for now head over to spinnerfall for a report on fishing the green river with my good friend p, and bb and his stepson, nicholas. a great three days.

un mas cancion nuevo

what follows is already a new jeebus song - we're in a very productive period right now. and it looks like we'll have a gig in may at old town pub, a new venue for us.

Shamble On (Getting Over on the Under)

Taking stairs two at a time
Cracked his shin at the top but he’s feeling fine
His ascension is invention, y’know he tries to climb
Up from the dirt and the dust and the grit and the grime
His smile is star spangled but his spirit is in shambles
He’s been here and gone for so very long
He’d gamble and he’d ramble if it was something he could handle
Instead he sings torch songs and tries to belong

It’s always near the end of the week
When the sun is sinking and he’s wishful thinking technique
There were 4 months there where he could barely speak
Now he’s blinking away the years slowly drinking the creek
There are holes in his jeans he drinks too much caffeine
He takes care of the dogs from up the road
Waving to his neighbors trying hard not to belabor
His own strange and unspoken moral code

To someone else it’s one big mess
This is what you get when you miss the show
So honey put on that evening dress
And if you don’t want him let him know

There’s dust on the television screen
The coffee table is unstable the magazines obscene
He’s been smoking toking weed since he was nineteen
Getting over on the under somewhere in between
He plays guitar when he’s bored he knows six chords
When he thinks about them they’re all the same
He’d feel more cunning if he could just see it coming
But he was never really good at this game

Sometimes the stars will sink low, low enough to know
That the night will arrive just a little too slow
In the heat of deep sleep he’ll murmur a hushed hello
And slowly groan as he atones it out of his bones
He forgot what he came here to do too soon
But it’s all right, it’s okay, it’s just fine
In the morning he’ll rise wipe the sleep from his eyes
And go to work at a quarter to nine

To someone else it’s one big mess
This is what you get when you miss the show
So honey put on that evening dress
And if you don’t want him let him know

link o' the day:

say what you will about actors involving themselves in political causes, but george clooney is doing good work, plain and simple. he recently visited darfur, and is getting senators to listen to him regarding the atrocities in that region. check it out.