Two years or so into this new blog, it occurs to me that I have never commented at all on the responses to the entries. No time like the present, I say. Also, the only place I have been lately is Florida, and really, what am I going to say about that? The lines at Disney were really long? Kids sure do love farting around on the beach? How come I never eat ice cram anywhere else in the world? Nothing very profound to be found there, I am afraid. I also wonder if things have gotten a bit heavy on the blog; judging by the overall tone of the comments, I am overdue something lighter. On the other hand, pleasant interactions and happy days don’t make for the most interesting reading experiences. I am a huge fan of the travel writing of Paul Theroux, who has made a great living travelling around the world in a snit. He shall be my guide.

Going back a year and change, lots of people liked my essay about the Waterford Hospital, aka ‘the mental’. Townies are still very intimidated by the place. Even though the hospital has the same blood collection and other minor clinics as the other local hospitals, they are often lightly attended. I always go to the Waterford for such things, as there is never a line-up, and there’s always somewhere to park. Most half-sensible people are either afraid to go there, due to their discomfort with the mentally ill, or out of fear that someone they know will see them coming out the door, and assume they are in for some treatment. It is a bit perverse of me, but I rather enjoy both experiences. Life is supposed to be an adventure, isn’t it?

My Irish anecdotes were much liked, but generated little in the way of controversy; someone did write in, however, to complain about slow shipping from the merch store. While the personal appeal was touching, and I am sympathetic, allow me to say here and now, for anyone else experiencing such problems, addressing merchandise complaints to the comments section of my blog is probably not the way to go about it.

Several people seemed to doubt whether skateboarding Prescott Street was in fact possible. Having witnessed a couple of likely lads attempt it in a shopping cart recently, I can attest to the fact that it’s entirely possible. Advisable – well, that’s another thing. Mind you, I have never tried it myself, although once I did roll backwards down a good chunk of Prescott on a winter’s evening, when my effort to shift gears in an aging Honda failed spectacularly. But that’s another story….

My stab at irony, with regards to the unfriendly environs of Canada’s parliament, pretty much missed the mark, I am afraid. I was aware that generally people are allowed to sit on the grass on Parliament Hill; I just thought my mock protest would be funnier. All I got for my trouble was a ringing defense of Ottawa Parks and Recreation policy. Which explains yet again why millions of people watch Jay Leno, and I am not a famous comedy writer.

I was quite happy with the piece about Kent, Ohio. GBS days are often rather aimless, and I was attempting to convey what that feels like. A lot of people get a little disoriented when they travel, when the comfort of routine is left behind. Almost all our days are like that, which is really the point I was trying to make. The way to combat travel fatigue it is to get out and find something interesting, to justify the journey as being about more than the sound-check and the gig. Otherwise, I might as well just stay home and play at Erin’s.

My essay about the different characteristics of Canadians vs. Americans drew a lot of responses from both camps. It was interesting that a lot of Americans saw my essay as critical of the USA, while Canadians were defending me from imagined American attacks. From my perspective – (Newfoundland, which is both betwixt and between) – this was a perfect example of both national tendencies. The Americans were thoughtful and tenaciously patriotic in their defense, the Canadians a little churlish and nit-picky and over-sensitive. Which is pretty much the way I see the whole relationship. To quote my friend Frank, “aaah, if only more people were like me, you’d all be so much better off”.

My most recent blogs were both round-ups of touring activities. Just to be clear, I do not dislike Seattle. If anything, I like it more than half the places we go. It just seemed to me that on a rainy Saturday morning, crazy street people were overwhelming the place. Honestly, I do not have any solutions to this problem either. On a hot day, downtown St. John’s can be a nutbar parade. And that sucks no matter where you are.

And, in conclusion, for those who asked: (1) while I might indeed be burnt to a crisp, am not done travelling by a long shot; (2) the St. John’s book is slowly coming together; (3) we are not playing the Toronto Molson Ampheatre this summer; (4) I will never write about municipal development again; (5) a cook book is definitely not in the works; (6) and it is true, while my writing for the NL Quarterly is probably my best work ever, it is pretty much impossible to find the magazine outside St. John’s and Halifax. Oh well, as with getting blood tests surrounded by crazy people, arguing with hobos in Seattle, wearing black suits in the blazing sunshine, and going to Disneyworld on the busiest weekend of the year, the perversity of swimming upstream like that just appeals to me. Once a rebel, always a rebel.