I was surfing through a few of the blogs I used to follow back in the day. I got a bit nostalgic for the good old days when I used to blog a lot.  Now I’m mostly distracted with twitter, instagram, google+, facebook and tumblr.  But the urge to blog again is upon me.  Social networking is fine, but proper blogging helps build stronger relationships.  It’s more intimate than twitter or tumblr which are good for sharing links and stuff, but not for storytelling.  Blogging takes more time especially if you want to do it right, but the time is worth the return.  It’s like having a meal instead of a snack.  That said…

We’ve been getting bombarded with rain this past week.  Being a sun worshiper, normally I would complain, but we need the rain.  I heard on the news the other day that it would have to rain non-stop from now until September to over come the apparent drought we’re having. You wouldn’t know it from the condition of some of the back roads like this one.

Beavis and Butthead are back in the game.  I’ve been peeping the new series Monday nights on MTV.  The boys are still hard (huh huh, he said hard), and they have a nice spread in this month’s Loaded magazine.  I’ve watched the first couple of episodes now and am finding it as easy as an old pair of jeans to get back into.

Here’s a round up of last week’s instagram photos:

listen over at my audioboo page or you can listen from the homepage here on my handy audioboo player.

where”s clay? #FeBOOary Day 8 (mp3)

I know I’ve probably had the car on the road two days longer than I should, but when you’re a road warrior like me, you’re reluctant to be without your wheels.

(street photography and accompanying soundscape)

I walk into the front office of my mechanic.  The shop cat greets me with a cold calculating stare.  People like to think cats are cute and innocent, but they’re really not.  They are stone cold killers.  I know this first hand as my cat often leaves the entrails and heads of his victims at the bottom of the stairs for me to stumble on in the dark.

I’m looking for Paul.  He’s been my trusted mechanic for about 8 years now.  He’s not in the bay.  I walk around to the back.  One of the young grease monkeys comes out of the bay (am I allowed to say grease monkey anymore or is that politically incorrect?)  I’m sure it used to be a term of endearment, but who knows anymore.  On a nearby wall, I see a pair a boobs.  On closer inspection, it’s a calendar.  It’s a calendar with pictures of topless women. I’m pretty sure that’s not politically correct anymore especially in a place of work, and a place that’s accessible to the public.  Tit for tat.

It turns out Paul doesn’t work here anymore.  I’m bummed out.  Good mechanics are hard to find.  According to the ne guy, Paul turned in his wrenches about a month ago to pursue something else.  I guess even mechanics dream of doing something other than fixing other people’s neglected cars.

The new guy tells me he won’t be able to fix my car today.  I need my wheels.  I persuade him to at least take a look and see if it is in fact the brakes.  He gets my car on a lift and sure enough the brakes are screwed, not just the brake pads but the discs too.  Hey ho.  I think the new guy could sense that if he took my car off the lift, that I would take it somewhere else to get it fixed if he couldn’t do it today.  He tells me he’ll get it done today after all.

I walk back into Southam to catch the bus into Leamington.  The next bus isn’t due until 8:56.  It’s 8:23.  I don’t fancy standing on the corner in the cold waiting for a bus.  I hoof it to the high street.  Still time to spare, I go into The Cup of Coffee Cafe for a cuppa joe and some heat.

“Do you know how much a return into Leamington is?”  I ask  the lady behind the counter.

“No.  I drive everywhere,” she tells me.  We make small talk about driving.  I tell her that I’ve just had to leave my car at the shop which is why I’m catching the bus.  I felt compelled to clarify that I’m not a regular public transport user.  It might be my imagination, but it seems after I tell her that taking the bus is not normal gig, she relaxes and becomes more chatty.

The bus is late.

In Leamington, I get off at the bottom of town.  I want to walk uptown and do some street photography along the way.  The first thing of beauty I see is a tall red-haired girl in short shorts, black tights, and boots.  Her hair is wild.  She smokes a cigarrette.  Keats was right, a “thing of beauty is a joy forever.”  From her, I am inspired to shoot red today.

(I also did a soundscape to accompany the pictures).

Enjoy.

It must be minus something outside and
This girl walks in wearing short shorts
So short, they could pass for panties.

She reminds me of a playboy bunny
Dressed in a Santa suit, only she is not
That thin.  Maybe she is from the North

Pole and this is like spring or summer to her.
She lays out her stall – Macbook, iPod and
Latte.  Oh, I get it, she’s a coffeehouse ninja.

BE HERE NOW!

He would shout as our minds drifted to thoughts of beer and sex with Dr. McBabe, the English teacher from across the hall.  There is a magic in being present, in living for this moment only.  The past often brings regret; the future often brings anxiety.  The present offers opportunity for peace, a calmness about the soul.