Dinner be organic, yo. Harvested that deer. Grew that sweet corn in the rain gutters of my house. No, no, bought it from a smelly guy with a gray mullet. Dude smelled like a charred piano. He was on the side of the road in a Pinto, the exploding car. You hardly ever see gray-hair mullets. I liked it. Respect.
Today was one of those weird disc golf days where it all came together. First thing, the weather was all rainbow crystal gavel of hipster girl with NO2 tank and skinny glasses. She dances in circles and sells you two balloons for 5 dollars. She is so alive, so full of self/lightning you can’t believe the dude with her (guy is wearing a football jersey and has large head like an eggplant, loud voice like an eggplant, ball cap bent all cheese curl). Then she enters her white van and drives away, so enjoy her while she is in your world. Clouds in the shape of Ethel Merman’s head. Trees swayed, breeze breezed, ground grounded, all of that. I even saw a hawk pounce on a Mountain Dew can and crush it like zucchini bread. Our disc golf course has some bad-ass hawks. Wow. I felt high like an index. (Indexes used to be high, bear with me.)
Then I see a bunch of families on the course, a bunch of young kids, a mom, etc. This is why we (me, a grad student at BSU, a gracious course designer who took no fee) built the course. Before disc golf the park was a haven of drug deals and gay sex (not that there is anything wrong with either, but maybe a public park isn’t the best venue?).
Can you see the kids? They are way in the back. They are small because they are kids. Kids are usually small. Anyway.
I put two new holes in the ground. The disc golf club hems and haws, while I just go out and put holes in the ground. I don’t ask permission. Know why? Because I have the mf’n keys to every basket. I am the Key Master. If you are ever the Key Master, even as a metaphor, don’t give it up lightly. It feels pretty good.
Hole 6 is sweet:
Look at the new hole 6! You can go forehand or backhand, hyzer or anhyzer. Glossary here. If you don’t play disc golf you are asleep now. Fuck off then.
I also put in a new hole 17.
I will get DIY on your ass. I will buy Quick-Crete and bring a level, real honest-2-God level. Check out that big L to R shot. You don’t even have that shot because you are a weak-ass and all your discs fall off to the left. Ha. Ha. F you (or go buy a stingray).
I also shot -5 today, my course record. I told you it was a good day. To each their own.
Coke. Dude, I love Coke.