Press 1 in the Hotel. Ace.

Got me some apology prose poems and something about The Bottle at Press 1. I am under poetry in there. Enjoy.

Now go write your own apology poem.

Or don’t. Who am I to tell you what to write.

I’m sorry.

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I aced this weekend in disc golf. A hole in one. If you play D golf, you probably think, “Well, good for you.” If you don’t play, you are thinking, “Whatever.” Or you might be thinking, “Shut-up and evaporate like ants.”

Here is a disc blog about the round. If you don’t care, don’t touch that link, fool!

I also injured my knee. It might be bad, can’t tell yet. I have decided the remainder of my athletic life will be a series of injuries, from nicks to sprains to fractures to lingering dull aches to the ultimate and ultimately insulting injury, my death. I don’t have a huge problem with this, but just getting my head around perpetual pain. I am adjusting, I mean to say.

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I bought a big-ass grill and grilled today, Memorial Day. The best way to deal with a cliche is to own it.

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Here is a beer so light you can use it to dilute orange juice to create your own sports drink. It is like clarified butter, in a squirt bottle. Blake Butler would drink this beer. I use it for D golf, hot days when I need to hydrate, but with a slight tingling in my legs. It works. Just a tip I thought I would pass on. However, if you are drinking this as an actual beer, it takes 3 to equal 1, OK?

S