My life is like an orange: there are lots of little segments, and some have seeds while others don't. You eat the whole orange. You read about my whole life, the good and the bad, with the dynamic city as a backdrop.
Sunday, June 16, 2013
To A Tee
Most people think golf is something old men enjoy on Sundays at the country club. (Most people are right.) However, it doesn't mean that golf isn't something teenage girls enjoy on Sundays at the beach in Queens. On Father's Days especially, it's important for x, y, and z to line up in the less-old-than-he-thinks man's favor. His shoulder is hurt, and I caught him wincing over his follow through. My mom, too, is burdened with an elbow condition so that the right arm to touch, hold, or hug is always the left, and without swinging. I am the new generation. I am the old man, or the old soul, or something that can inhabit the walls of a pitching wedge or 7 iron. I will become that haunt.
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