Ngl I hate golf and I’m all for this. They put a golf course in our public park at the expense of hundreds of centuries-old live oak trees. Half of the walk around the park you’re just looking at an empty golf course. Like 2 people want to play golf. So annoying.
Golf was a game developed in Scotland, where it rains up to 250 days of the year, and where the courses use very hard-wearing grass. The sand in the bunkers is because it used to be played on the coast - these traditional courses are called “Links” courses. The top Links course in Scotland, Royal Dornoch, uses no mains water at all. They have their own rainwater collection system.
It wasn’t originally intended to be played in the middle of a desert on lush green turf that takes thousands of gallons of water a day to maintain. Unless you can keep the course alive using only rainwater collection, it shouldn’t exist.
Tumblr already has a personalization algorithm it’s called my beloved mutuals who have great taste and only wish to psychologically damage me sometimes
these days, the summer fan is on, and there is a little cricket in you. your mother would say you don’t have ambition, but that’s not quite true. you just had different priorities: for most of your life, the pain swallowed so much of your energy that picturing a future was almost impossible. it took so much just to render yourself here without evaporating - making goals always felt shallow, far-off.
at 17, maybe you would have wanted to be famous. maybe you would have wanted to kiss every woman and come home late at night and call the dawn to heel like a dog. to meet taylor swift and ask her to collaborate on poems and french-kiss in the rain. to wiggle your fingers at jealous ex-lovers while you lifted the hem of your ballgown and got out of limousines. a life of rooftops, spinning and glittering.
these days, it isn’t that you’re tired, but that you have learned the weight of carrying things. you have had the good times. you have laughed at the bottom of a pool. you have had your hands on the paring knife. you know the cost of it, like a carcinogen. these days, you want a life like a stone fruit. these days, you want a life that lays gently on your skin, rather than piercing through.
you are going to get a little condo with your friend. the two of you fantasize about basic things: how it will feel to cook in a friendly kitchen. the serenity of picking out wall paint colors. putting plants in the sunlit corner. you want a place that never rings in anger. where the only echo is jazz music. you want a peace like holding your head under the water.
ah. maybe your younger self would be devastated - you got boring?
she doesn’t know yet. she has lived her entire life terrified, running. she has grown so accustomed to the threat that she has fallen in love with the scythe. she thinks passionate and violent are synonyms, that anything lovely has to come with a bad side. she thinks life has to break like a wave - that you need to swallow the ocean in order to stay above the foam. she doesn’t know about the boat yet. she doesn’t know about spending hours at home, quiet, your hands folded, finding peace. she doesn’t know about weightlessness. she thinks everything good is everything sharp. that the pain is what makes something satisfying.
one day she will make cookies from scratch. one day when she breaks a plate, she will be the only one around, and nobody will start shouting. one day she will slip her fingers under the sand, and it will make sense to her. the life assembling in little shards: oh. i’ve been afraid of a quiet life at home because i’ve never had a quiet home to come to before.
the gentle world inside her, singing behind a door.
i’m not the praying sort, but i’ll probably always have a soft spot for the astronaut’s prayer
for those who aren’t familiar with it, it’s a possibly-spurious quote by alan shepard (and is thus sometimes referred to as the shepard’s prayer) on the launchpad of Freedom 7, immediately before he became the first american in space. it goes like this:
i honestly don’t know how this happened but somewhere between my childhood and formative years i forgot how to exist like a normal person and started to either overthink everything or make disastrous choices without any proper thinking at all. no middle ground whatsoever
Executive dysfunction is basically going “Okay one two three go. And now. Aaaaaaannnnnnnd we’re goinnnnng now.” for like three hours before the thing happens
I actually really like the thing when you’re starting to get the hang of a new language, enough to understand and say simple sentences but you gotta get creative to get more complex thoughts across, like a puzzle. I remember a time in the restortation school when a classmate who wasn’t natively finnish and did her best anyway dropped something and sighed, telling me “every day is monday this week. I have had four mondays this week.” And I understood.
I don’t think I speak much of spanish anymore, but in the nursing school training period I did there, I did manage to get by with making weird Tarzan sentences. I got a nosebleed at some point and startled another nurse. Not knowing the words “humidity” or “stress”, I managed to string together: “This is ok. It is hot, it is cold, I have a bad day, I am sad, I have blood. This is normal for me.” And she understood.
And sometimes you just say things weird, but it’s better than not saying it. One time, I was stuck in a narrow hallway behind someone walking really slowly with a walker, and he apologised for being in the way. I was not in any hurry, but didn’t know the spanish word for “hurry”, but I did know enough words to try to circumvent it by borrowing the english “I have all the time in the world.”
The man burst into one of those cackling old man laughters that they do when something in this world still manages to surprise them. He had to be somewhere between 70 and a 100 years old, and I guess if there was one thing he wasn’t expecting to hear today, it would be a random blond vaguely baltic-looking fuck casually announce that he is the sole owner and keeper of the very concept of time.
