"Black Bart" by Angelina Fernandez
Let me tell you about the ladder that I climbed to the summit of a 29,029 foot peak, the friends I lost and the lessons I learned.
I was just a lowly sucker fish, leeching onto anything in my path that was remotely appealing; it was through these hosts that I vicariously lived this experience called life.
In the summer of 2009, my life unexpectedly changed with a routine drop of a light weight tied to the end of a fishing pole. It was shrimping season and a desperate man went out to sea with his grandson in hopes of bringing in a catch large enough to get the family through the trying summer. As the old man shrimped, the young shrimper-in-training cast a line into the ocean - while he knew that shrimping involved no line, the boy thought he could impress his elder by catching a load of shrimp by line and hook. The boy, inexperienced as he was in shrimping, was even less proficient with his casting skills. As the line flew through the air, a rogue wind whipped violently across the line's path sending the small weight tumbling past the projected origin of ripples on the water. The weight finally broke the water's surface and shot deeper and deeper through the blue.
When the weight shot through the surface of the water, I was 1,200 knots under the sea leeching onto the most well-known snakehead fish in the Pacific. As the weight hit 1,000 knots the snakehead fish chomped on a piece of sea cucumber - some of which floated my way. A moment later, the weight and I occupied the same position in space time and I was knocked straight off my host and into a whirlpool. Seconds passed and I realized that the whirlpool had released me and I somehow had acquired a new host. His name was Cooke.
Despite my parasitic nature, Cooke brought me in and in a few short days I was 5'5" tall and 100 pounds. I had also taken on the calm demeanor and appearance of a girl.
With my newly developed legs and inherent freedom, I was destined to climb Mt. Everest, the tallest mountain in the world. After several successful summit expeditions, I felt like I needed to do more, like there was something monumental I was supposed to do for field of mountain climbing and for those weaker than I.
Finally, while at an important party with Cooke on the third floor of the newly renovated Everest Base Camp Condos, my destiny spoke. I looked up at the towering peak as it told me what to do:
WITH STEPS TO FOLLOW,
IT IS HARD TO GO ASTRAY
Immediately, I knew this meant that I was to build a ladder. So this, I did.
The ladder was an immediate success; although some tour guides and Sherpas were out of a job, the dream of climbing Mt. Everest became more easily accessible and affordable. Thousands of people came from across the world, some to see the ladder and others to climb it.
The mountain ladder soon became overpopulated with yuppies and hippies alike, who are after any range of fame to fortune to spirituality. Whatever they were after, it quickly became too much for me. My jealousy and my pride began kicking in.
One night when I was feeling extra cocky, I decided right then and there that I would be the last person to reach the summit and to return by ladder. I gripped my ice picks in my fists with the blade sticking out from between the middle and ring fingers. I then grabbed onto the vertical poles of the ascent ladder. As my ice picks cut through the horizontal poles rendering them unfit for climbing, I was able to slide down the ladder at ease. Climbers headed toward the summit on below me on the ladder were soon crudely knocked of by my descending body and sent spiraling toward a cold, lonely death.
And this is life.
"Ladder to the Summit" by Alex Geiser (conceptual text piece) [JUST KEEP READING]
I was just a lowly sucker fish, leeching onto anything in my path that was remotely appealing; it was through these hosts that I vicariously lived this experience called life.
In the summer of 2009, my life unexpectedly changed with a routine drop of a light weight tied to the end of a fishing pole. It was shrimping season and a desperate man went out to sea with his grandson in hopes of bringing in a catch large enough to get the family through the trying summer. As the old man shrimped, the young shrimper-in-training cast a line into the ocean - while he knew that shrimping involved no line, the boy thought he could impress his elder by catching a load of shrimp by line and hook. The boy, inexperienced as he was in shrimping, was even less proficient with his casting skills. As the line flew through the air, a rogue wind whipped violently across the line's path sending the small weight tumbling past the projected origin of ripples on the water. The weight finally broke the water's surface and shot deeper and deeper through the blue.
When the weight shot through the surface of the water, I was 1,200 knots under the sea leeching onto the most well-known snakehead fish in the Pacific. As the weight hit 1,000 knots the snakehead fish chomped on a piece of sea cucumber - some of which floated my way. A moment later, the weight and I occupied the same position in space time and I was knocked straight off my host and into a whirlpool. Seconds passed and I realized that the whirlpool had released me and I somehow had acquired a new host. His name was Cooke.
Despite my parasitic nature, Cooke brought me in and in a few short days I was 5'5" tall and 100 pounds. I had also taken on the calm demeanor and appearance of a girl.
With my newly developed legs and inherent freedom, I was destined to climb Mt. Everest, the tallest mountain in the world. After several successful summit expeditions, I felt like I needed to do more, like there was something monumental I was supposed to do for field of mountain climbing and for those weaker than I.
Finally, while at an important party with Cooke on the third floor of the newly renovated Everest Base Camp Condos, my destiny spoke. I looked up at the towering peak as it told me what to do:
WITH STEPS TO FOLLOW,
IT IS HARD TO GO ASTRAY
Immediately, I knew this meant that I was to build a ladder. So this, I did.
The ladder was an immediate success; although some tour guides and Sherpas were out of a job, the dream of climbing Mt. Everest became more easily accessible and affordable. Thousands of people came from across the world, some to see the ladder and others to climb it.
The mountain ladder soon became overpopulated with yuppies and hippies alike, who are after any range of fame to fortune to spirituality. Whatever they were after, it quickly became too much for me. My jealousy and my pride began kicking in.
One night when I was feeling extra cocky, I decided right then and there that I would be the last person to reach the summit and to return by ladder. I gripped my ice picks in my fists with the blade sticking out from between the middle and ring fingers. I then grabbed onto the vertical poles of the ascent ladder. As my ice picks cut through the horizontal poles rendering them unfit for climbing, I was able to slide down the ladder at ease. Climbers headed toward the summit on below me on the ladder were soon crudely knocked of by my descending body and sent spiraling toward a cold, lonely death.
And this is life.
"Ladder to the Summit" by Alex Geiser (conceptual text piece) [JUST KEEP READING]
the only words i have actually heard are "cowboy take me away".
7th grade was also the grade i wrote the poem about-
-giant pile of cum
-lady had ebola virus. it was eating her from the inside out, or something.
it was relaxing and calm but i didn't like it.
nothing fell out.
"blessed" by elton john.
it is making me tired.
i have no idea what this song is about.
2001, 2000.
weirdish.
"meet virginia", do you know that song?
it's the bomb song.
i can actually understand
dreaming about a girl
seen her but never met her.
i get confused really easily.
look at.
give that shit to people.
bums would be turning it down.
i wanna get drunk.
not that bad.
here's what i find interesting about people:
others, slutty, preppy and freakish.
everything about people is interesting. none of it is really bad.
this music video sucks so bad.
other times he is the center of attention.
underwater.
does it say the title of the song?
i didn't write it.
he's definitely good at pretending to be gay.
when people like that come out of the closet-
ok.
cool.
everyone knows someone's gay but they don't know.
how do you not know?
they don't even understand.
oh my god.
i didn't do it.
i did, it's ok.
well i didn't.
i wanted a kitten.
she is so boring.
apparently not, not then.
before you could appreciate her.
that dick is just-
so what?
tiny balls.
fucked up little head.
disfigured.
doubles in girth.
from
here
to
here.
maybe i'm, not, like.
it looks great.
just a big tube, no definition.
is it to scale?
about as flat as a board, almost.
like a flatworm. like a coin.
sex with him sideways.
i really want to fuck up somebodie's car.
that would just be fun, dude.
"Poem" by Shelton Hatfield, Alex Geiser and Reid Watson
7th grade was also the grade i wrote the poem about-
-giant pile of cum
-lady had ebola virus. it was eating her from the inside out, or something.
it was relaxing and calm but i didn't like it.
nothing fell out.
"blessed" by elton john.
it is making me tired.
i have no idea what this song is about.
2001, 2000.
weirdish.
"meet virginia", do you know that song?
it's the bomb song.
i can actually understand
dreaming about a girl
seen her but never met her.
i get confused really easily.
look at.
give that shit to people.
bums would be turning it down.
i wanna get drunk.
not that bad.
here's what i find interesting about people:
others, slutty, preppy and freakish.
everything about people is interesting. none of it is really bad.
this music video sucks so bad.
other times he is the center of attention.
underwater.
does it say the title of the song?
i didn't write it.
he's definitely good at pretending to be gay.
when people like that come out of the closet-
ok.
cool.
everyone knows someone's gay but they don't know.
how do you not know?
they don't even understand.
oh my god.
i didn't do it.
i did, it's ok.
well i didn't.
i wanted a kitten.
she is so boring.
apparently not, not then.
before you could appreciate her.
that dick is just-
so what?
tiny balls.
fucked up little head.
disfigured.
doubles in girth.
from
here
to
here.
maybe i'm, not, like.
it looks great.
just a big tube, no definition.
is it to scale?
about as flat as a board, almost.
like a flatworm. like a coin.
sex with him sideways.
i really want to fuck up somebodie's car.
that would just be fun, dude.
"Poem" by Shelton Hatfield, Alex Geiser and Reid Watson
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