Jon Heath - Whatever.

“Dude, you gotta check this stuff out.” I sat on the hardwood in front of the bed, where Kristin had sprawled out the contents of the top shelf of Grandma’s closet. “Here, read this.” She handed me a leather journal, and she had already marked the page with the ribbon bound to the spine. I read a page and a half before I looked up. I must have had a look of disbelief painted on my face, as Kristin said “I know, right?” “My grandmother thought this place had a ghost?” Great. I hadn’t even spent the night in this new house and already it was haunted. “Yeah. And look at this.” She flipped a few pages, and pointed to a name. “She named him.” This page was a detailed description of a man named Henry that only appeared to my grandmother on the top floor of the house. He was apparently always dressed in an old Union blue uniform. “Creepy shit, huh?” Kristin seemed to enjoy this news more than me. “You’re smiling like it’s your birthday.” I wasn’t. Kristin quickly fixed her face. “So

After playing in one of the hottest tournaments I've ever experienced a few weeks ago, I thought it would be a good idea to speak on my experiences, and how important it is to focus on diet, hydration, and sleep before and during a tournament. Sometimes you lose sight of just how physically demanding a disc golf tournament can be until mother nature adds its two cents and leaves you laying in the grass. The fact that I'm not as young as most of the players out there anymore doesn't help matters, but I could tell the heat was affecting everyone involved. The Knoxville Disc Golf Club hosted the Old City Open on July 22nd, and morning temperatures were surprisingly mild for July in Tennessee. I had eaten eggs and toast that morning, and hydrating on water and Gatorade since the night before. I must add that I'm 6'3" and 225 lbs, and don't have the best restraint when it comes to dietary choices. The OCO (Old City Open) was the most prepared I've ever be

Disc Golf, like anything else, can hook a person in and never let go. It can also seem mundane and boring to some. For me, I can't get enough of it. And this week is the pinnacle of my competitive career to date. The Bowling Green Amateur Disc Golf Championships is one of the largest disc golf spectacles in North America. People come from far and wide to wade in the river of plastic and chains, and not just to play in the event. There are many that come to volunteer, sell their merchandise, or just spectate the hundreds of competitors. This year, over nine hundred golfers will try to win their respective divisions, and I will throw my hat in as one of the many. The event actually starts when the sponsors, vendors, and volunteers, including some major touring professionals, show up early in the week. There are clinics, doubles rounds, throw-off competitions, and much more that, sadly, I will be missing. A man has to work... This will be my first year attending, so I can'

I need to think for a second, get the poison out I have to admit, I'm in a bit of a drought You see there are times in life that really test a man And if love is a battlefield, my banner barely stands The war rages on and cities burn to the ground The screaming intensifies, but often without a sound Locked up in a prison cell we choose for ourselves Tricking our minds into thinking all is well And trying to remember what started it all I vaguely remember a love-struck trust fall But if I close my eyes, I can still see her smile There's a faintness to it though; it's been quite a while She says she's back now, and I have to believe She wants to love again, not trying to deceive What we used to have, I'm trying to perceive That our life will again be what it used to be You see it's the comfortability of it all That tries, and often succeeds in the downfall The erosion of the foundation of trust The bottle holds the jackhammer, and I'm in a c

You always complain that my soft hands are on fire Sweat building into the inner thigh of your jeans But when you drive alone, I know you turn on the heated seat as it's on the next time I borrow your car When you get tired hours before I come to bed, you put your mountain of pillows around you to simulate companionship But when I finally come crawling in, the last thing you need is my furnace giving your back the first degree All of my dreams nowadays are of our journey together And after all the treacherous climbs to the top of your tower of lies, you'd think the thin, cool air of the clouds would have cooled my skin The rocky grip of your stone facade should have long calloused my hands But at the top, the window into your soul is still barricaded shut Will you ever let me in? A strong wind always seems to knock me from your perch right as my fist touches the glass. As I start to fall, I thought I saw your head turn, but I may never know if you knew I was trying t