I'm planning to stop blogging for a while. I prefer to keep this blog light and fun, which is unfortunately not reflective of my current state of mind.
I notice that most of my posts over the past two months have been about death or near-death. Death is on my mind a lot I guess, especially over the past two weeks having had a friend lose her son and another friend leave her young son behind after succumbing to a long battle with an illness.
Don't really see the point in continuing this on a half-assed basis while I focus on other things for a while to reevaluate, renew, rejuvenate, etc, etc.
Got some good stuff in the queue, but lack the motivation to do a proper writing job of it. Maybe more will come when the knots in my stomach release and the tangle of my mind unfurls.
I am ok, for anyone concerned. More than ok -- very, very blessed and thankful for everything and everyone I know, both offline and online.
My second car was a Pontiac Pheonix. A hand-me-down from my older sister, who wangled it from my dad, who had bought it from his friend.
She had power steering, power windows and aircon!
She was my rediscovered freedom after being car-free for two years.
Her seats were luxurious brown velour. She had a wicked Pioneer stereo with an amp, that dad's friend had kindly left in when he handed over the keys.
With her, I cruised the mean streets of Victoria, BC, carefully avoiding running over elderly people crossing the road with walkers.
I once packed her full of everything I couldn't sell or give away from my apartment and drove to Calgary with my sister, our last little journey before I embarked on a year's student exchange to Thailand.
We detoured down to Seattle then through Idaho and Montana, feeling like criminals when we crossed back into Alberta and the US border guard pointed to the haphazard boxes and the brown vacuum cleaner poking up from the back seat, asking if we had anything to declare.
I may or may not have used her back seat for sordid purposes; I will not reveal.
She earned me a $100 speeding ticket on my way from somewhere on Vancouver Island down to Victoria with my friend.
The cop asked "Why were you speeding?"
I said "Well, you know how it is, sometimes, when you just get going along..."
He said "No." and wrote out the ticket.
The muffler had a problem for a few months so she was loud like a motorbike but I was too lazy/poor to get it fixed. Until the guy upstairs in my apartment building who was sort of stalking me mentioned that he could always hear when I was coming or going.
That day I took it to the repair shop in Esquimalt near the Navy base where I knew the guys there would 'overlook' the fact that her gas tank modifications weren't quite exactly legal at the time and would just fix the muffler, no questions asked.
She was ugly. She was brown. Yet she was glorious and she was mine, all mine, for a year or so during university.
She was the last car I ever had in Canada. And probably the last American one that I'll ever have (my affair with Toyota is looking set for life).
Bye bye Pontiac. You served me well!
Don't have an actual photo of my Pheonix handy but she looked something like this:
If you're going to kick the bucket in Bangkok, you might as well do it in a mysterious, salacious and spectacular way, I reckon: Carradine death 'erotic asphyxiation'
It's pronounced "pooh-ket", not "fuckit". Its population is roughly 30% Chinese-Thai, 30% Malay Muslim Thai, 30% Buddhist Thai and an assortment of nutjobs and wackos such as myself. It's a great place to come for holiday, but I'd rather you not because there's enough traffic here already, thank you very much. It's a long way from Canada.
I'm planning to stop blogging for a while. I prefer to keep this blog light and fun, which is unfortunately not reflective of my current state of mind.
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