Life of A Walking Monkey
Monday, December 28, 2009

The Lost Generation

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The walls were closing in on me. After work, I stood in the meadow. El Capitan and Middle Cathedral moved ten feet closer each day. I bar...
1 comment:
Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Plastic Prince

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Snow blew in through the window of my red station wagon. Inside was a nuclear meltdown: sweat soaked my cotton shirt, and my palms wet the s...
1 comment:
Thursday, August 27, 2009

Tales of the Temporary

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Americans are twice as likely to kill themselves on a Wednesday. At work, the stapler eyeballed me, beckoning me to punch little bits of me...
1 comment:
Tuesday, July 14, 2009

One of My Heroes

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I held the rope nervously as a man twice my age with four times my courage ascended the runout face climb. John Bachar moved with a delicate...
1 comment:
Saturday, June 6, 2009

Dashed Dreams

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Rock climbing is inherently dangerous. Every guidebook, every piece of climbing gear, and signs posted at every major climbing area proclai...
Sunday, May 24, 2009

Momma

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"So you want to go bouldering?" I shivered. The sun still hadn't hit Yosemite's Birdalveil parking lot. Sweeney smoked a c...
2 comments:
Sunday, March 8, 2009

Miss Diagnosis

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"Where I come from men do not just take musical instruments off the wall and play them." The grey haired woman shifted in her bar...
2 comments:
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