....Maybe it is because I still live in the flatlands at the ripe age of 24, and I yearn to be gone from this godforsaken place. I ski the park hard, when I can. I educate myself on the newest gear, bindings...sticks...beacons...goggles.. It serves as my foremost therapy. It's Saturday night and I'm priming my liver for a night with the local crew of degenerates, but thoughts of endless turns and floating low-consequence booters are inundating my mind. My 'close' friends castigate me for my obsession, and I don't understand their distaste, more importantly, I don't care. At the onset of my buzz that is all I can muster in mind, like a long-distance lady friend....making turns with friends that share my ski cancer. So here I sit, alone watching TGR porn, with a shit eating grin on my face. This is my rant and I feel compelled to put these thoughts into the archives of TGR because well, it's the most appropriate place-the only place. I hope all is well with my fellow minions tonight.
Bookmarks