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Disc Golf Devils

My buddy calls shotgun as I roll out of the house donning my new black sunglasses i got from K-mart.



My buddy calls shotgun as I roll out of the house donning my new black sunglasses i got from K-mart. so I pile into the back of my other buddy's black Ford Probe with black tinted windows and me in my black shirt and brown shorts. You couldn't ask for a more beautiful day to trip. The sun was shinning in between puffy white cumulus that the wind was pushing eastward toward the coast while it was trying to push me over.

My stomach was in knots from this helping of spaghetti and shrooms that was twice the size of my stomach, but we figure, "hey, lets go play some frisbee golf." I'll tell you this much, I'll never trip with spaghetti again. the entire time, my stomach felt on the virge, and it interferred with my ability to organize my thoughts.

But that was just the beginning. The course we were going to was about thirty minutes away, and as soon as i got in the a car i wanted to get out. I don't know if you've ever ridden in the back of a Probe when you are trippin' but its rather tight and with the windows down it became undeniable to me that the wind was after me that day. It blew in on me like a battering ram of air and wouldn't let me rest. so i poked my head between the front seats to be in on the conversation hidden behind the tulmultuos roar. i was then met with my face in the rear view mirror. I double taked at the sight of me and some strange red shit all over my mouth. spaghetti sauce I suspected, but it wouldn't wipe off. I asked my friends if I had anything on my face. one said yes . . . the other, no. what the hell.

I sit back and try to peer through the darkened windows into the daylight beyond . . . where the fuck are we? I'd never taken this country route to the cedars of lebanon before. so at least i had something to look at while my stomach was hurting and the wind was beating me like its little bitch and the beastie boys were barely audible in the backgroud with all kinds of beeping samples or maybe that was in my head too.
MY eyes caught the figure of some small animal I could not quite discern in a field as the guitar in the song slid down the neck like the the shadow of this animal that got up, rolled away from its keeper and looked at me . . . what the fuck?

I looked the mirror again, the red shit was still there, in fact, my enitre face seemed a reddish orange. I closed my eyes and sarted dreaming about this chick I'd been trying to hook up with and I saw a vision of her smiling and punching on my stomach. not in a bad way but a cool way. I sat there thinking this was the best part of my trip, opened my eyes to the seat next to me and frowned that she wasn't there, and then crinkled my brow as I wondered why the hell I was trippin' with these two yahoos who couldn't even tell me if I had spaghetti on my face. All the while my stomach churning and the wind beating and I gotta get out of this fuckin' car. is the sun out there? yeah its out there somewhere, I gotta get out of this fuckin' car! Thank God, we're finally here. and so is the rest of middle tennessee apparently. damn. Cedars of Lebanon is a state park set aside for its cedar glades, with a crazy little disc golf course all laid out in the middle of it. It was the first warm, sunny Saturday we'd had in the middle of the cold rainy season, and figured there'd be no one there? I hate to be this way, but now I know that I can't trip around a lot of people I don't know. especially when there's kids. the wind died down. I thought maybe it was done torturing me. no, it was just hiding, waiting, for later. I looked up at the clouds and the sun, and praised Jehovah that I wasn't in that damn car. I looked over at the empty-dry pool and the sun shone down on it like a blessing, and the wind stirred as we walked from the parking lot to the forrest and the first hole which was littered with various trees. four of which were very old and large and stood at the entrance. I call it an entrance now, but I never did before the wind rolled through them and rustled them, and the whole place darkened for an instant and then they lit up like the entrance to a theme park. not with neon lights and shit, but with a fluctuation from being shadowed trees to trees with inner light, but they shadowed themselves again as if to say are you ready for this, kid, the devil's course.

well there's no turining back now, and in I went. now I don't remeber which genius of the three said let's go play frisbee golf, while we're trippin' but it sure wasn't me. I stepped up to the concrete slab, completely distracted by the greeting I had received and the not so friendly giant tree that stood next to me and wildly tossed my frisbee into the air expecting it to home in on the chains, and fly there. right. wide right actually, into the thickett. at the second hole, I tried one more time to get a decent drive, but my eyes and my arms and my mind were in different places. I think I'll watch I said.

and I did watch. I watched the trees bending over me in the wind to hide the sun from my face, and I bobbled back and forth in the wind as I listened to the hum of the sad broken earth. The magical part, you know, well I guess we wouldn't know if it weren't for the shrooms that open our eyes to what the earth is truly like. Or was truly like, I should say, before the sin and destruction of man came forth, encraoched upon the magic, and choked its vision out of our own eyes to the point that trees to us are not even trees as they are anymore. but they once were, this is what the devils told me there. the trees told that the devils were taking them over. and I listened to her sad whine and her longing for a new earth. Behind every tree there was something. But I loved trees, even as I feared them and stood, barely on two feet, confused to find that they were fucking with me. I thought all trees were good, but not in cedars. the whole area, I've heard was once avoided by the native americans as a place of bad energy. . . and this is where I went to trip. I feared them, but I still loved them. and I saw the enrgy there.

my friends were having a great time, but I not me. i was getting beat by the wind scared by the trees I couldn't throw a disc, my stomach hurt, and on top of it all . . . I had red shit on my face and I was convinced that everyone knew I was trippin' and thought I was looney and was laughing at the red shit on my face. the only sane thought I had was of that chick, and she was punching me in the stomach! it came down to me realizing I needed to get home to my Beatles posters and my yellow submarine movie and my rock-n-roll friend who's one tripped out dude(check his band out . . the Katies, on Elektra), but knows how to talk you down and take care of you. yeah he took care of me alright. he convinced me to sell him the rest of those fantastic shrooms while I was still trippin' and sure I wanted nothing to do with them. two hours later the reality of that move settled in at the end of Muppets in Space with a rather expressive . . .DAMNIT!! Damn, if I can survive that . . . i can survive anything.

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