No politics, no film this posting but just my life and a generally decent day I have experienced.
After a couple of enjoyable D&D games on Friday and Saturday nights, I awoke on Sunday feeling down right good. As we had planned my sweetie-wife and I instead of our usual walk in Balboa Park or alone the shore, went to Morley Field and played a half round of disc golf.
For those of you not in the know, Disc Golf is like regular golf, but played with specialized throwing discs. The distance to the holes is measure in hundreds of feet not yard, but the basics are the same. Each hole has a par rating and the person with the lowest score, i.e. the fewest number of tossed to place their disc in the target basket, wins.
A couple of friends of mine had introduced me to the game years and years ago. We used to play on weekday afternoons, when the days were long and I could get to the field after work with a reasonable amount of time for play. When I started working in La Jolla until 5 in the afternoon, the games stopped. My bag of discs (because you have driver and putters, not the kind of disc you would play catch with at the beach) has sat in my closet for 5 or 6 years now.
Last weekend my sweetie-wife and I took our Sunday walk near the Morley Field course and I noticed that Sunday mornings seemed to have a low turnout. That’s when we made the decision to come back this weekend and again play the field.
This morning was not as lightly attended as last Sunday, but I think if we had been just twenty minutes earlier it would have made a large difference in the speed of our play. That said, I had a fun time. My muscle memory seemed to return fairly quickly, and after 9 holes I was just 3 over par. (Though this is not truly fair. At the Morley Field Course it is not uncommon to have decent scores on the front nine utterly destroyed by the terror that is the back nine.)
Afterwards we went to lunch at our favorite lunch spot, Tioli’s Crazy Burger, and then window shopped a bit at the military surplus store. (I will admit to eyeing military trench-coats such as the ones worn by Cpt. Jack Harkness.
The rest fot he day was spent at home and feeling in general that life is good.
Tomorrow it is back to the day job, back to the novel, and back to little sleep, but until then I plan to watch a film (1987’s Robocop), enjoy a little popcorn, and let my relaxation continue.

does it mean to be devout, it found itself measured as product and summarily sentenced to butchering before release. Tossed out to die an ignoble and forgotten death then film slowly built a following. From the strange images, the non-cinematic score, and the brutal inescapable ending, the film became legend. Interest grew, interested in perhaps the director’s original vision, not subject to an executive’s callous command to cut fifteen minutes and he didn’t care which. The birth of conspiracy, when it was discovered that all the original negatives had somehow inadvertently been used as landfill in building a highway. All of this merged into a strange and almost unbelievable history for a simple low budget horror film.
simply it never was around in a form for me to watch at the time and place where I had an interest. I had seen scenes and I had even seen the closer couple of shoots, but never the entire film, and certainly never in one go from front to back. It is an interesting experience, particularly from a position 40 years after it was released, and after it had spawned a franchise of its own.
