Healthy dose
Being a ski-bum requires a certain tranquil austerity, a profound respectful regard for nature. Mountains are big. They are tall, they are cold, windy, icy, snowy, sunny, slippery, rock-ridden, tree-covered, precarious beasts of geology. Geology and nature, serene though they may seem, are unpredictable. Weather can turn at any minute, or a seemingly solid, soft...
How We Got Here, Take 1
I graduated from college in the spring of 2009. That fall, that is to say, the previous fall, the fall of 2008, was the infamous Great Collapse of the Economy and Dashing of All Our Hopes and Dreams. Now, I went to one of those fancy east coast private ivy-on-the-walls type schools, so it is...
A Song Recorded Round the World
A friend, colleague (if we can call it that), and fellow ski bum made this film. #talent
A Ski Video: March 2010
Ski videos are as integral to the ski bum way of life as half-price pints of beer, dollar tacos, and hitchhiking. Please pardon the abominable, er, skiing.
A pursuit of happiness
What it comes down to, really, is a very simple question. Is there anything more important in life, as an adult with a reasonably complete application of free will, than happiness? Ought happiness ever be subservient to other, external forces? Does or can perpetual fun be equated with happiness? Because Tom Robbins (Skinny Legs and...
Powder.
Powder days are what ski bums live for. Four, five, six, seven, eight, ten, twelve inches of fresh, fluffy, soft and forgiving sparkling dust from the gods. Powder days are a reason to call in sick, play hooky, get up early, stay out late, rock hard, dance hard, party hard, and pray hard for ever...
Drinking: The shot ski
Soon after arriving in a ski town, one is thrust into the midst of its distinctive lifestyle. One’s new fellow ski bums, particularly the short- and semi-long-term inhabitants, excrete a particular rowdy, party-driven joie de vivre, replete with cheap drugs (usually weed–the profusion of dispensaries is no sheer coincidence) and cheap alcohol (often PBR, or...
Beginnings
I came to Colorado the first time to get over a boy (and I say “boy” intentionally). True story: I know it’s lame, but it had been a few months since graduation, I was living at home, and caught up in a romance of passion with a flaky young gent who was, at the time...
