Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Better Times.

To those who might have cared...

There does exist a bridge that no longer serves a purpose. We, also feeling as though we serve no purpose, came to this bridge. Whether for a celebration of life, or one last "hoo-rah", no one was/is/will be sure or cares/believes in much.

We might all die. Who cares. This bridge might fall down. Who cares.

Caring or not, here is a record of better times:



My darling sister, Ashley Kay Beitz, exudes an attitude of independence.

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Again, with such grace, she is independent.

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Our new friend, Emily Jenine Forsberg, was very impressed with the vivacious spirit of Control Force.

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Control Force veteran, Timothy Kent Anderson, trying to steer while I (Ryan William Beitz) snapped this gem. How humble it is to drive without sight.

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Only on the Moscow-Pullman highway, Jared Karl Houston already missed the place of his dwelling.

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Seen here is some evidence of my mode of being: chip-fingers and cheap soda; sometimes things are all right.

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From the left: Timothy Eston Berge, Ashley Kay Beitz, Keith Joseph Feltis, and Emily Louise Feltis enjoy the scenery before my crew. (Tim A. drives safe/slow/vile.)

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Seen here is proof of Tim Anderson's murderous rage. Jared and Emily Jenine flee.

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Tim B. and I contemplate the power of romantic suicide; too bad we ain't no fag. (And that we know each other.)

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Radio Edit. This big " "!

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Jared and Emily Jenine venting.

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Tim B. had a brilliant idea for a military defense system based on the classic "I am rubber, you are glue" concept. I hate the military, but agreed to help with the "R&D".

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In the last days of the Sun, they shared an eternal moment.

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Keith J. had a theory for generating biodiversity in the creek: he raised the sugar levels in the water to encourage the growth of bacteria that might serve as an elementary food source for an organism higher on the food chain. As per the predator pyramid ('cause you know: WE'RE ON TOP), Keith did us all a favor.

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Tim B., Jared, and Emily Jenine being.

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Ever the spirit of adventure in action.

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Someone forgot to keep walking.

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With Emily Louise keeping an eye out for predators, myself, Tim B., and Keith J. explored the plausibility of eating a wet pair of black, folded dress socks.

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You haven't seen through the eyes of the I-beam. Vehicles drove over, it was loud.

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Tim B. thought about it, then got down gracefully.

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Like the goats of the mountain I sprinted to the top, stopping for nothing but my own breath. But in the haste of determination, I ruined the hillside for all others to pass. Tim B. and Keith had to turn back.

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Nuf sed.

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"Friends are the family you choose."

-Alana Christine Lujan

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The saying above still applies, only this time on the ground.

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REPEAT: Ain't no fag.

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Happiness is fleeting...

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Fleeting.

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They came for the view of pastoral nature their mind's created. I came for them.

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Prospect and refuge provides a vantage that allows the user to feel safe yet aware.

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Youthful spirit/cautious wisdom.

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"Where could she be going?" Ashley thought, just as Emily Louise contemplated her own path.

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Under the influence of our heroes (Rousseau and Sade), Jared and I had one another in a carnal fashion.

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Ashley was second (I was first).

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Tim A. was third.

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Emily Jenine fourth.

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Jared fifth, Keith sixth.

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Emily Louise peacefully placed.

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This is cool/tuff/stupid/rad/pointless/necessary.

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The size of the sword is no measure of the person.

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Non-stop cool/cruel.

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We go way back (420).

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Under the gaze of society, all but my sister (Ashley), suffering from mountain madness, renormalized.

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