(17. March 2009, 10:23 by Daniel Blue) ~ Fore! Or five?DB: Edit My Slice
So, a week into being a soberite and I’m already beginning to question if there is anything to do in this town besides “going out”. I don’t mean for my blog to become a diary of my sobriety by any means, but this is going to take some adjusting … lest I become bored and begin setting fire to things. One major change perhaps will come from exchanging my night life for a day life. Not being hung over for the better part of the morning has offered a much higher productivity quotient than I have had in years. Still there is the requirement of social contact and stimulus, all work and no play … you get the picture. Strange the demons that rage within, what I have poured into myself to quench them, and what they demand in exchange for their silence.
In order to preserve my sanity and protect the safety of those around me (and for entirely unrelated other reasons) I have decided to take up a daytime hobby. Namely, the ancient Scottish game of Golf.
I have never golfed before and honestly have never had the desire. I told myself, “I’m not like those people, and they would run me off of their lawns in their little white cars waving their clubs and shouting numbers at the back of my poorly fitting argyle vest.” However a number of my peers have recently joined the links (in a chain) and seem to have become possessed with the term “edit my slice”, which sounds like a nifty rap song to me and justifies exploration of their strange alternate green rolling geography. Besides, the alternative has been discussed and I’d rather be running from a golf cart than running toward liver failure, and so I now ponder my influence on the world of wedges, putters, eagles and birdies.
There are ten golf courses in and around Tacoma, three of which are within ten minutes of my house. TEN! How much golfing can be going on at any one given moment? Does rain slow the ball down? Who exactly is out there golfing on a typical Wednesday afternoon? Are there better times to go? Will I run into more hippies a little after four? How hard can I really hit that little white world? How far is that in meters? Can I get blue balls? Can I yell “five” to get an edge on the competition? What is crescent fresh? How would Jack Sparrow handle that sand trap? Who are these people? Do you want a sticker? These are the questions that flow through the mind of a Tacoma golfer. I intend to be that man.
“Green Fees” range from about $18-$89 for Pierce County residents. Some places will rent me a bag of left handed clubs for a mere $50, but I checked craigslist and found new lefty clubs from between $75 and $200. I found shoes (which I am still not convinced I need to play) online for $75 and balls for between $15 and $20 a box. I have no idea how many boxes of balls it takes to play an average 9 hole game, but I’m going to buy two just in case. I thought about clothes, but I figure I will poke around out there and see what the current trends are before investing anything. I can probably sew my own versions of anything I like (which I doubt will be very little).
So worst case scenario my first round of golf will cost me $404, and best case scenario (and in my own damn sneakers) $130. However, after the initial investment, most days out on the course will run me an average of $45, which is equal or significantly less than my average bar tab on an average night out with my real friends. I’m hoping that the exercise will do me good, I think 18 holes will require me to walk about 5 miles, which is far greater than the average walking it takes me to drink 18 beers (.5 miles … unless I walk home … which ended up being like 34 miles one time).
Anyway, look out holes, my skinny jeans and ironic t-shirts are about to make Tacoma greens a whole lot crisper. You edit my slice?
Daniel Blue is an artist, a poet and an entrepreneur. He writes 2000 words a day (most of which you will never read, sorry), enjoys skateboards, wears women's socks and avoids fleece. His most noble achievement is the total accident of creating the infamous '253 heart' while sketching. He moved to Tacoma five years ago to get his clothing design business out of his dad's basement.
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Hey Dan,
You can borrow my left handed clubs whenever. I never use them. Fire me a call. Peace.
1 | Posted by Yman | Mar 17, 01:04 PM
What’s funny is I don’t know ANYTHING, other than women, that drives a man to the bottle faster than golf.
Good luck and enjoy the walk.
2 | Posted by Tk | Mar 17, 01:22 PM
They have a driving range at Tall Firs over on Tyler between Center and 56th… that’s my kind of golf.
3 | Posted by Thorax O'Tool | Mar 17, 01:44 PM
Good luck on the sobriety. I gave up drinking 33 years ago. One of my better decisions, difficult at first, but it gets easier. I had three reasons probably in this order, a religious conversion that teaches sobriety (I am a Morman), my own behavior and a family history that gave me reason to quit. Not being hungover makes the effort worthwhile. Stick with it. About the golf, you must have more patience than me. That small white ball is too hard to hit!
4 | Posted by michael buchanan | Mar 17, 03:15 PM
“So, a week into being a soberite”
For a split second I thought I read the word sodomite.
5 | Posted by Mofo from the Hood | Mar 17, 08:13 PM
I always have to remind myself before reading Mr. Blue’s works that I’m reading postmodernist literature. Mr. Blue often invents words.
Do I wish that Mr. Blue had chosen to become a sodomite? No. That would make a boring story.
The fact that Mr. Blue has decided to give up liquor, if it was a problem, is a decision and action that requires inner strength and discipline. I wish Mr. Blue a healthy and long life.
As for golf, I started to play back in High School. My friends and I would usually head over to the Highlands, a short 9 in the north end of Tacoma. After we would play past the course lined houses that had big glass doors and windows, the game for me kind of lost its edge.
7 | Posted by Mofo from the Hood | Mar 21, 11:20 AM
Here were a decent, godless people.
Their only monument, the asphalt road and a thousand lost golf balls.
–Epitaph for our materialistic generation by poet T.S. Elliot.
8 | Posted by Mofo from the Hood | Mar 22, 10:19 AM
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