-beachgolfer-

Journal Entry — San Francisco

I decided to take an Uber today. Didn’t feel like working through routes or timing. I wanted to get across town and keep moving.

The Haight came back to me faster than I expected. Casual clothes. Color without effort. People carrying instruments like they were just another thing to keep track of. Sound drifted out of doorways and open windows, not loud enough to claim space, just present.

I walked most of the day. Let blocks repeat themselves. Posters layered over posters. Storefronts that hadn’t changed much, even if what they sold had. Some places leaned into the past. Others didn’t bother naming it.

Music followed me around. Records spinning somewhere inside. Someone tuning up on a stoop. A song I knew well enough that I slowed down without meaning to. I didn’t need to hear the whole thing.

I stopped into a small record shop and stayed longer than I planned. Narrow aisles. Bins worn smooth along the edges. A turntable playing behind the counter. I flipped through a few sleeves, recognized more than I expected, then put them back. No reason to take anything with me.

Lunch was easy. Something quick, eaten standing up. People came and went around me, everyone on their own clock.

Later, I headed west and finished the day at the beach. Wind up. Temperature down. I took the club out and made a few short swings, careful of space. Same motion as always. Enough to settle.

Back at the room from last night now. I finally checked my phone. A message had come in earlier from an old friend. Retired now. Used to teach at Cal Poly. Said he was in Morro Bay these days and that I should come through if I was headed that way.

I read it twice. Let it sit.

Some places remind you of who you were. Others remind you of who still remembers.

Sand Rating: 7 / 10
Condition: Firm, cold, familiar

— BG
Travel light. Swing hard.