Golf, heroin, improper postures, etc.

I'm just back from buying a Cobra 9-iron...as well as an iron for every other conceivable occasion. I was going to buy my clubs one at a time, until I thought, why? The golf shop threw in a free bag, some balls and a video (I had asked for Caddyshack, but they don't carry it, so I got Golf for Dummies). I should have asked how to carry the bag -- I realized when getting it out of my car that I have no idea how the straps work, so I carried it up clasped in my arms, like an unconscious body. Right now I've got it propped up in front of me, where I can gaze lovingly at them.

I read a couple books that if you haven't read, I highly recommend: Grand Slam (about Bobby Jones), and The Greatest Game Ever Played (about the 1913 US Open). They're both by Mark Frost, and fantastic books, even if one's not into golf. They reassured me that I was normal: I was getting so obsessed with going to the driving range, it was embarrassing -- I even lied to my dad once about where I was going, because he kept making remarks like, 'Everything in moderation.' As if it were a heroin addiction...well, I suppose heroin isn't good even in moderation.

Anyway, the people in the book actually slept with their clubs, which I don't do, and built their own backyard courses out of tin cans and dirt (which I can't do, because I live in an apartment).

But, my swing is still erratic. Sometimes I go and can't get the ball in the air, and then men insist on coming up to me and giving me tips, which I've gotten better at politely ignoring. One reason I got really bad for awhile was because I had so many mutually contradicting tips in my head -- some guy even came up and told me to 'spread my legs.' That just does not seem like a thing you should ever be able to tell a stranger.