pds

NO SHIRT FOR YOU! namaste, motherfucker.

you got msn messenger? get it and i will transfer you any album you want. i have over a terabyte of MP3 online. namaste, motherfucker.

a bump from not so way back.... namaste, motherfucker.

hey now, carrie is pure and chaste. she would never resort to innuendo. rofl. namaste, motherfucker.

you better hurry, tack! namaste, motherfucker.

namaste, motherfucker.

People talk about me, baby Say I'm doin' you wrong, doin' you wrong Well, don't you worry baby Don't worry Cause I'm right here, right here, right here, right here at home Pompitous - what the hell's "Pompitous" mean? namaste, motherfucker.

thank you again for all of your support, but unlike most of my other less personal posts i am not trying to hijack this thread. Petur, please, please, please post you f&*st balloon jump with your lady! namaste, motherfucker.

nothing out. namaste, motherfucker.

hey chunky munky! so you teach a coach course? how much would that be in vodka gofasts? seriously. after i get relocated and refinanced i will head out to raeford for some nignog and instruction. maybe right before mardi-gras and then head there from you place. i am now splitting my dives up between vert and flat. what should i specifically be focusing on (besides getting better at it) to prepare for your regimen? namaste, motherfucker.

i've heard that "pack, BITCH!" gets immediate results! i have learned a large portion of the small amount i know from the friends i have made due to them packing for a gimp with a dislocated thumb. sigh, since i no longer have an excuse, i must pack my own now but still find myself hanging out on the mat shootin the breeze and learning. hats off to the hard workin men and women that keep people in the air for 3 minutes longer. now pack, BITCH! namaste, motherfucker.

ok, i have looked at this thread for the past 4 days and it has given me cause to pause. after much deliberation i am going to post what happened on what will undoubtedly be the one jump i will remember for the rest of my life. i am not posting in the interest of sympathy or shock value. this is not a happy story. Each of you have shown me love and support, some not even with knowledge why, through these last few months and i want you to understand why. I have read the various reports and this account in no way conflicts with them. i am not attempting to start a conversation. please direct questions to incidents and comments to PM. skydive #36, November 2, 2002. This thing is so big. Everything is so painfully beautiful to my eyes. Every atom of my being longs to see the wonder Ela held for everything. She did not know what ugly looks like. She was my bodhisattva but she graduated. So early. My world torn. She was just a little girl. It was the last skydive of the day. Ela was on her aff level 6 dive, her 13th skydive and loving every single minute. She so wanted to do is get off of student status so we could jump together, just us. We spent every weekend at the drop zone together, hanging out, diving, drinking and laughing. Since we started jumping, we were in a Cessna 182. for most of her jumps we were on the plane together. I never shook Ela’s hand. After everybody shook, I would lean over and give her a wet kiss. Mostly because I loved kissing her, but also got the pleasure of pissing all the other people off. ;-> that Saturday we were really excited to get to the drop zone because they had a lease on a caravan. I was on my check dive. 2 point 3 way and a wingloading question when I got down gives me a license to skydive. We had the largest formation on that load, so we would be first out of the plane and that put me in the very rear of the plane by the door facing forward. Ela and her instructor, Tony, would be last out, so they were in the front of the plane facing rear. She loved skydiving so much. It was a joy just to watch her anticipating. So we spent the next 15 minutes making funny faces at each other. Just before we opened the door, tony reached over and grabbed Ela’s arm and shouted, teasingly, “Sky, I got your girl!”. I thought to myself ‘that’s ok, she has enough love to go around, but I know who’s getting a kiss when we get on the ground.’ And then I realized that tony’s girlfriend, Nancy, was sitting right next to me. So I reached over and grabbed her and said ‘that’s ok, dude, I got yours.’ Ela was too far to kiss, so I stuck my tongue out and her face showed me she understood, she closed her eyes and mouthed the word ‘later’. That smile. I got my guys ready and we went. It was a great skydive. I was able to meet expectations and hit the ground feeling really good. In just a few minutes i would be a 'real skydiver'. Being the first out, we landed first and there were a lot of parachutes in the sky, so I took my time policing up my canopy. A friend of Ela’s, Holly, was on the load with us and she landed right next to me. Facing me. I just smiled at her and started to look for Ela. She should be getting down about now. I did not yet know anything about second passes. I then saw an expression on holly’s face that stopped me. I saw her mouth say the words ‘oh my god, is that a person?’ I then turned and saw in the distance tony’s parachute open. He was landing a mile out. There was only one parachute. My mind shut down. I begged holly to tell me what I was seeing. She wouldn’t say anything. I started counting people and looking for Ela’s jumpsuit. Everything went to slow motion. I started walking to the hanger, passing people who were just standing and staring at that lone canopy slowing drifting down. As I passed each face turned and I ask ‘what is happening?’ and no words came from those. The faces told me again and again. People were streaming out of the hanger and as they passed me I saw so many different reactions. Everyone that Ela touched loved her. She was a brilliant point of love and compassion. I would find myself reading, packing a parachute, watching videos, whatever and look across the hanger at her and realize that I had something to do. I would drop whatever I was doing, cross the room and hold her cute little face in both my hands and wonder what I could ever have done to be so fortunate as I kissed her. Then I would go back to what I was doing, wondering if it could possibly get any better. As I slowly walked into that hanger, I saw the trucks speeding out. I stood motionless and silent for what seemed like eternity. As I started to walk to the car, people began to be in my way. Just wait, they said. I started to run. As I drove, I got about halfway and one of the trucks were coming back. It was the owner of the dz. He asked if I had my cell and if so we need a helicopter now. Part of my mind said that if we need a helicopter then there must be someone to put in it. A tiny bit of doomed hope made that call possible. He asked me to go back to the hanger. I could not do so. I drove out to the runway and all the way to the south end was the other truck. I parked and got out. I shouted out ‘where are you’. No answer. I started running into the desert looking for heads above the vegetation. Still calling out and getting no answer, I saw two people. As I ran towards them the attempted to stop me, begging me not to go farther. I could not stop. My Ela was out there somewhere. And then I saw her lying on the ground. We did not need a helicopter. She is so small. She was on her back. I saw both her main and reserve canopies about twenty feet away, at the ends of their lines, still in their deployment bags. I just stared at that attempting to figure out what I was seeing. I have heard of bag lock on the main, where the parachute cannot deploy. But the reserve is in a freebag. It is not closed, nor attached, so a reserve cannot stay in its bag. Any air at all would free it. My mind short-circuited and I started examining her rig. I would not let my eyes go where they wanted. I just focused on her rip cord. I had only been pulled around 3 inches. I became deathly calm. I had to know what had happened here, to my little Ela. I found myself measuring the length of the pull with my index finger. As I looked at that red handle, I noticed that it had been flattened. The pull handle for a student is made of a short piece of red PVC pipe. I will never forget. As I extended my index finger it reached exactly to the cord channel. I stared at my finger not believing what I saw. 3 inches were pulled. A bit more than 2 inches were left over the grommet on the closing flap. Just 2 more inches. I then looked at her reserve and cutaway handle. It was just barely out of its holder, with about the same amount of pull. Ela, you were supposed to pull. Baby, what do I ask you every time you go up? “What is the last thing you are going to do on this skydive?’ ‘Well, pull, of course’ she would say as if I were thick. Good. Here’s a kiss, now go jump out of a perfectly good airplane. She tried. Our new plane allowed us to jump at a higher altitude and it was the sunset jump. When I came down, the tips of my fingers were numb. Her hands were cold. They were so cold. Ela was a natural skydiver. She was happy and comfortable. Her instructor had become confident in her abilities, so when he saw her wave off and reach, as she started her pull, he turned away to separate when he saw her hand come out 8 inches. the handle slipped and he did not realize that her hand was empty. Tony flew a safe distance for deployment and turned back to find Ela on her back in a slow spin falling away from him. I think she just went blank for a few seconds. Tony dived in an attempt to pull her rip cord and missed but finally did get docked on Ela. She got both of her hands on her reserve handle. As she started to pull, he backed off again. She fell away from him with the reserve handle in her hands, starting to pull. Due to metallic residue on the cables, the ground pull was measured at 24 pounds. It was too much for her. Lying on the ground before me was a person who had shown me that it is ok to be myself, that it is safe to just love someone and leave the bullshit behind. A person I knew I was going to know for the rest of my life. A person who was in love with me for who I am and what I am becoming. What a coincidence. I feel the same. I think we might have something here. You know, it is said that we don’t know what we have until it is gone. In a lot of cases that is entirely accurate. I want to scream that she did not have to go to such lengths. Every day, I would find myself surprised at the calm happiness, the bliss, that my world had assumed. We recognized the significance of our time together while it was happening. we were finally home. we were finally safe. we were finally free. I could see the it in her eyes, and words were not necessary. I sat with my love and talked to her until the police asked me to stand down then kissed her hand and said goodbye. As i sat outside that tape watching the sun pass the horizon I found myself in a place that I am today trying to find once more. Peace. Ela was there with me and somehow I was able to feel her. Calm. The sky was so beautiful. But when i left her presence it seems i left that place. I know it is there waiting for me, someday. The problem I have now is that to keep the gift Ela gave me; I have to keep her in the front of my mind. I am unable to separate the tragedy from the bliss. Give me strength and guide me, Ela, I am doing my best. Ela Kuczynski, 6-20-75 to 10-2-2002 fly on, little wing. namaste, motherfucker.

although this wont show you us from there, it lets you see there from here in all kindsa ways. supacool http://www.wired.com/news/technology/0,1282,57171,00.html namaste, motherfucker.

most of the better 'ram drives' offer a writeback mirror that runs as a background thread as a bit of protection. namaste, motherfucker.

[tip]pack FASTER![/tip] namaste, motherfucker.

congrats, mel. it's already been said, but Welcome. namaste, motherfucker.

absolutely. especially when i was a kid. even out on the sidewalk as i was walking down the street. i thought i was a mutant. some still do. namaste, motherfucker.

DRINK DRINK DRINK namaste, motherfucker.

brain cells? where?!?! namaste, motherfucker.

no video, but got some old hands to critique. seems that my timing is good and flare is smooth but the old 135 just has nothing left. was told that at max flare it was still almost in front of me. so either i need to wrap the brakes a few times next time or there actually is something to the idea that ZP can lose something with age. namaste, motherfucker.

35 next sunday, pal, so show some respect to your elders. lmmfao. namaste, motherfucker.

make passionate love to ones self. (just postulating, of course) namaste, motherfucker.

i am playing a G&L these days, when i play. when i stopped performing, i kinda stopped playing too. let my creativity power my coding. anyways, i was more of a technician than musician. still am. i can play the shit out of something with strings, just don't know any songs. does that make any sense? namaste, motherfucker.

i am so proud of you, michele. next time i get out there, you must join me for a sunset clear and pull. luv ya. p.s. image seems broken. namaste, motherfucker.

lmmfao namaste, motherfucker.