The Fobcave: After I Get Beaten to Death By Homophobes With a Crowbar, Scatter My Ashes on Y Mountain

Wednesday, November 29, 2006

After I Get Beaten to Death By Homophobes With a Crowbar, Scatter My Ashes on Y Mountain

FoxyJ and I watched Brokeback Mountain tonight and it made me feel, of all things, homesick for Utah. I wish I knew how to quit you, Rocky Mountains.

6 comments:

G'pa Bob said...: Try spending 5 years, 3 months, 11 days, and 21 hours in the mid-west. I could not believe how much I missed the mountains!!!; 11/30/2006 3:32 AM
Anonymous said...: Loyalist said...

Atleast you have mount Ranier. I'm in the friggn desert where there laughable mole hills are called mountains.

btw, Brokeback was film in BC/Alberta Canada where they have gorgeous mountains. oh, how i wish to see them again.

ps. good luck with the rain :-) the gills should start to grow soon.; 11/30/2006 12:19 PM
Anonymous said...: One year away from my Cascades and I'm twitching...ah well, I'll see them soon enough! Figures I miss the record-breaking rain month, though. I am actually disappointed at not having the chance to slog through the Burke muck on my bike. I sort of like the mud-splattered calves look.; 11/30/2006 1:13 PM
Melyngoch said...: Hey, a football game once made me homesick for Utah, which was just wrong, and left me with no choice but to steal the enjoyment of everyone around me.; 12/02/2006 1:36 PM
Tolkien Boy said...: I'm not going to make the high-altitude joke. I'm not going to make the high-altitude joke. I'm not going to make the high-altitude joke. I'm not going to make the high-altitude joke. I'm not going to make the high-altitude joke. I'm not going to make the high-altitude joke. I'm not going to make the high-altitude joke. I'm not going to make the high-altitude joke. I'm not going to make the high-altitude joke. I'm not going to make the high-altitude joke.

I'm not going to make the high-altitude joke.; 12/04/2006 3:47 PM
Anonymous said...: When I went to BYU as a new convert from the East in the fall of 1966, I couldn't get over the feeling of some unidentified "presence". It felt like someone was watching me, looking over my shoulder, following me. I finally realized it was the mountains.; 12/06/2006 7:31 AM