Ghost month begins

During the 8th month of the year, the gates of hell open and ghosts come out to fuck with people. My first year in Taiwan, I asked Lzyk about which god lived in the temple we were walking by, and drop of water fell out of the clear night sky into her eye, and she took this as a sign to never talk to me about ghost month again. Most of what I know is from wikipedia. For example, if you go in the water, you will die, especially if you go in the water. This is counter balanced by the rest of the year, when you will die of you cross the road or ride in a taxi or a bus.

I celebrated the start of ghost month by skating at the bridge, like how I celebrate the start of most months. I relearned a trick that I haven't landed this millenium, and then snapped my deck 5 minutes later.

Some people don't know this, but skateboards have souls, especially the wooden part, maybe because of all the constituent parts, that is the only one that was once alive. Unless you count stars as living things. I don't.

Anyway, at an earlier point in the night, I had consumed a hilife plastic box of noodles and peanut sauce, which wasn't an important detail in the night until the ghost of my broken skateboard compelled me to step on the edge of the sauce box, that I had littered onto the floor hours earlier. It slug a diahrrea-like, brown, sticky, sandy sauce all up my calf, but mostly down inside of my shoe.

My old skateboard lies broken on the floor tonight, still connected to the trucks. This is an honor I don't normally bestow. Normally, I like to put the new pieces together and let them cook for a night or two, so that they can get to know each other. After all, I have only ever had 2 completes in 20 years. You have to at least keep the hardware.

My old skateboard's ghost struck again on the walk home. I slung it's broken body over my shoulder, and stocked up on beers instead of water. After a few miles, I may have spewed TB foam through my beard in front of a relatively large number of taipeinese people waiting on the last bus. I'm not usually headed home this early, but my skateboard looks like hte bottom of a broken heart tattoo. No one reacted, so I spewed again a few blocks later. Skating the heat is brutal.