I wasn’t able to watch the entire parade or see it from any great vantage point (I’m short!) but I wonder, why isn’t there mention of Harvey Milk at this event? Perhaps there is during other celebrations of Pride Week? I just think of his impact and also the gains fought for that have also been lost. & other activists, too. I think I’d like to see some booths that share information about the history of the movement – less promotional booths of businesses (unless they’re giving away lots of pretty buttons, ha!)

The reason why I mentioned Harvey Milk is this moment for me when police were walking in the Pride Parade. They wore the pretty rainbow beads and were advocating LGBT rights. I said out loud, “isn’t it nice to be able to demonstrate for what you believe in?” because I was thinking of last weekend when the police had become a militant force in our city and inflicted serious pain on peaceful demonstrators. I realize this was their job – they were on the clock, being paid – but doesn’t that make it worse?

So in that moment of seeing police in the parade, I felt conflicted. On the one hand, it’s fantastic if they are actually gay and able to be open in their occupation and participate in Pride. People protested for that right. & yes, maybe their participating inspired goodwill among some citizens? On the other hand, I couldn’t help but wonder… since the police forces were often wearing riot gear, shields for their faces, how do we know if they weren’t part of the attacks against demonstrators last weekend? How do they reconcile it in their minds? For me, I guess, it just felt OMGTOOSOON.

I’m curious as to whether there was greater attendance this year as opposed to the last time I went in 2008?

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Of course there was nudity again this year. Just more seemingly painful nudity. But I’ll let you be the judge. First try to find it. Then try not to cringe.

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On the one hand there are events such as live theatre, literature, and artsy staples such as painting and photography, but on the other hand many of the free family-friendly events would be difficult to classify as anything other than pure entertainment.

For a hardcore art experience, Nuit Blanche is a safer bet, and free outdoor entertainment can easily be found, well, just about anywhere during the summer. If you like meaty literature, it’s not tough to find, and getting your live action fix is easily doable too.

But for a festival that seems to be trying to be all things to all people, they do sometimes succeed in breaching the niche in a very satisfying way.

Last night, for example, Luminato had The Moist Towelettes throwing down on the main Yonge-Dundas stage as part of the J-Pop Divas thing.

Haha! Okay, “throwing down” is perhaps not that accurate. And, if you ask me, neither is “divas”. Adjectives such as “cute” and “adorable” are probably more correct — but great international fun nevertheless.

I’d originally wandered down to catch Maki Nomiya of Pizzicato Five. Their funky, soulful Japanese pop sound is a good mood waiting to happen; not the Hello-Kitty-inspired schlock one might imagine either.

Unfortunately, I missed Maki but did enjoy some toe-tapping goodness from the Towelettes. Apart from playing up the humorous connotations of their name (“Are you ready to get moist?!”), they did a really good job of preventing me from leaving with their snappy music and syncopated dance moves.

Emi did most of the shy, heavily-accented introductions for the group while Mike (behind), wailed on guitar…

…and Yuko and Dave completed the moist foursome. And yes, that is a keytar! (That alone makes the group pretty darned cool.)

The last time I sang along at a concert was never. Not a once. Even concerts I paid to see. So the fact that the Towelettes managed to get me singing along, in Japanese no less, speaks volumes.

Funny thing is, aside from the ubiquitous fog machines and the late-day gusts of wind that bore down on the square, it wasn’t exactly what you’d call an action-packed performance. I mean, they had their acts down, but other than their I am Ninja tune where they released hand-held streamers (not sure what the actual title is), the performance was limited by the girls’ dresses and the guys’ instruments.

Despite this, and despite mentioning Maki Nomiya a number of times throughout their performance, I managed to completely forget why I had come in the first place. Apparently The Moist Towelettes filled my Japanese pop quota adequately and I left feeling quite satisfied. A little moist too.

So I still can’t really say exactly what Luminato is. A festival, yes, but I’d be hard-pressed to go into any greater detail. There are more complete and engaging events that cover just about every aspect that Luminato does. But that same ambiguity that makes Luminato a jack of all trades (and master of none), also somehow manages to attract these neat international acts, unique personalities, and unusual groups that don’t seem to fit in anywhere else.

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I was just on my way home last night when I overheard this heartwarming tune being performed at Yonge-Dundas Square (part of Luminato).

In lieu of good audio quality, here are the lyrics to the snippet I recorded:

…she’s a sex machine, yeah.
She just turned 18.
And she buys me methamphetamines.

That’s why I’m dumping you, biatch, that’s why I’m out the door.
Go on an close the dumpster cuz you’re still a skanky whore.

A skanky skanky skanky skanky whore.

You spend the night at truck stops,
and at the tattoo shops,
and it don’t make you an actress just because you’ve been on Cops.

And sure you finished college,
well whoop-di-frickin-doo,
If I blew all my teachers I’d finish college too.

That’s why I’m dumping you, bzatch,
that’s why I’m out the door,
She told me she’s your sister but you’re still a skanky whore.

She’s a little skanky too, but you’re a whole lot more,
You creepy, cranky, stinky, stanky,
skanky, skanky whore.

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The other reason I like Formula 1 is because it seems much more fair than most competitive sports. I like to compare it do downhill slaloms, for example, where differences in athletes’ times can be in the tenths of seconds — easily accounted for by an errant gust of wind. The athlete’s training, the coaching, the equipment, etc., can all be negated by something completely beyond the athlete’s control. Luck, in other words. In Formula 1 the whole aim of engineering is to mitigate the effects of luck, but even more important, all the drivers race at the same time so that elements like wind, rain, etc., affect everyone equally.

The Toronto Criterium is very similar to Formula 1 in these respects.

The bike race ran the same route as last year through the streets of the St. Lawrence neighbourhood. I’m not a fan of oval racing tracks; they tend to get boring real fast. If it wasn’t for the various pubs, restaurants, and cafes lining the 1 km (0.6 mi) route, I’d find much greater fault with the event. However, the oval seems to be the only negative in a race that’s otherwise all pluses.

Last year I lamented the fact that I didn’t witness any wipe-outs. It’s not that I want anyone to get seriously hurt. Quite the contrary, in fact, I’d like nothing else than to watch them crash again another day. But be honest, spectacular collisions are the best parts of any race, am I right?

This year I also stuck around to see who the winners were. After 74 laps at an average speed of 47.6 km (29.6 mi) per hour, team SpiderTech powered by Planet Energy dominated the first four spots, led by Andrew Randell.

And just like Formula 1, Andrew cracked a bottle of bubbly on the podium and sprayed the audience. I can attest to the fact that real Champagne is indeed used. Not bad either.

No pit crews or fiery collisions, but not bad for a competitive sporting event. I’d love to see something more complex than an oval because right now all the cyclists do is continually turn left. The trick to setting up another course, however, would be to ensure that there are enough depots along the way for folks to wet their whistles; spectating for five hours takes some serious stamina!

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That little pot rally that happened at Yonge-Dundas Square about a week ago was basically just practice for the main event, the Global Marijuana March and Freedom Festival. The point of the march, as far as I can fathom it, is to demonstrate the futility of existing pot prohibitions. It originally started as a grass roots (haha!) movement but now, well, the word “festival” is appropriate if you ask me. Even if you’re completely against anything marijuana, you must admit that arresting everyone simply wouldn’t be practical. Maybe even possible.

Last year it was estimated that some 20,000 people attended. This year, a lot. I’m given to understand that the Toronto thing is among the biggest — it is, after all, a global event. It’s gotten big enough to get all manner of unabashed corporate sponsorship:

This was my first time at the festival, and it didn’t come up short on my expectations. Here a bong, there a bong, everywhere a bong bong. The place was fully ablaze. You could smell it for blocks. Anyone holding a joint or a pipe was clearly green; there were rechargeable vapourizers, hookahs, and bongs with necks so intricate that by the time the smoke reaches the lungs it’s frigid. Yup, people hauled all sort of shit into the park for this lazy hazy Saturday afternoon. I swear some people even made group t-shirts:

There was one really unfortunate but entirely preventable incident involving a “man” (they don’t know his age, I’m gonna guess younger and stupider), falling out of a tree. Meh, there’s always an idiot. Other than that, I think everyone had a good time. Great place to meet smiling droopy-lidded people, and also to make some connections for the rest of the year.

I was surprised to see kids in the crowd, most of them accompanied by adults. I mean, there was lots of fun stuff to look at — “freedom” means lots of things to lots of people, you know? – but it was thick enough in that park to get high just standing around. Don’t think I’d bring my kids until I found them hiding their first stash from me. Ah, rites of passage.

Actually, that would probably not happen. I’d be very upfront with kids about drugs as early as possible. The truth too, no bullshit. Is a joint any worse than downing a couple of pints of beer or smoking a cigarette? Nah, but all three have consequences – especially for youth. Which is why I’m still all in favour of legalization (and taxation ), but definitely not without controls.

The LCBO has facilities for verifying legal age, and pot doesn’t take up much shelf-space, so legal distribution channels shouldn’t be an issue. Enforcement – what happens when you get caught driving while high, for example — is also extremely important. I’d be in favour of zero tolerance, at least initially (or at least make it zero for everything then): you drive while high / drunk, no more driving for you. Apparently Australia is using roadside breathalysers to detect cannabis so the technology to make this possible exists. (And I’m sure it’ll get better over time.)

In other legal circumstances I think you could treat it like any controlled substance; is coming into work drunk cause to fire someone? Why should pot be any different?

I could be missing a lot in that equation, but so far I haven’t even heard anyone bring up points like these. You know, like, serious discussion on if, and based on that how, it could actually be accomplished. Keeping the public’s (electorates’) best interests at heart, of course.

But I’m getting a bit off-topic, aren’t I? Pot isn’t always the first thing that jumps to mind for everyone at the mention of the word “freedom”. Some choose to express their freedom in different ways.

These two cats were all over each other for a few minutes before scampering off into the depths of the festival. Their display was a bit too acrobatic to have been spontaneous animal sex, so I’m guessing performance art of some sort.

And of course, where there’s pot, there’s commies:

That guy in the brown leather jacket handed me their literature personally. He was wearing simple wire Lennon shades. The gloves on his hands were fingerless. His shoes were plain, nondescript. Red agitator straight out of a frickin’ movie.

Okay, you’d better start this video playing now, it’ll set the context for what’s coming up next.

Playing? Great…

So let’s not forget where commies come from: hippies. I swear there were times when I thought people would bust out spontaneously into song:

There were plenty of bare feet elsewhere, but for the most part modern hippies are sensible hippies. Probably because their mentors, musicians and poets, are themselves somewhat sensible.

Here is spoken word poet Storm delivering a heartfelt helping of inspiration to the crowd:

Note how sensibly she’s attired. Huh? Yeah.

But freakin’ great. I don’t mind admitting, dear reader, that at one point during her recitation I choked back a couple of tears. And it wasn’t any rhyming-couplet bullshit either. Storm’s bit consisted of one well-put reminder after another of why it’s great to be alive. Along with broad gestures and a nicely punctuated meter. Terrific stuff.

I wonder, you know, if the laws were changed, how a festival like this could grow. I mean, Caribana is insanity now, but I bet it’d be nothing compared to an annual pot festival held in a nice breezy spot like the Islands. You don’t have to bother the downtown folks out there and it’s already pretty much hippie-central in the summer anyway. Government needs an extra influx of cash? Now it’s a bi-annual event. And stoners are so easy to corral for when the love-in comes to an end, I don’t believe security would be a huge concern.

It could be the dawning of a new age of some sort.

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(This picture is very big!)

There was much I’d planned to do in 2009 and hope to get around doing this year. Some of it I’d foolishly planned in older blog posts. So be it. Brutal, in-your-facedness, delayed plans ‘n all. As Sam Spade so profoundly put it, “when you’re slapped you’ll take it and like it!” He meant with the truth, of course.

But at least there’s always 2010. And 2011 after that. I’ll probably, eventually, sometime get around to doing everything on my list. In between I’ll stumble onto random stuff or maybe get all Prince-like and do something brooding and moody, the purple drain, when Dove makes me cry, so on. Bathroom commentary. And all still under the umbrella of life in the city of Toronto.  Haha! So’s that growth in my fridge. Still can’t believe no one had registered torontocitylife.com – totally blew my mind.

But nothing stands still. Unfortunately, the Flickr group has been quiet for a while and I only have so many photos to go around, so I’ve mothballed it. Not dead, just sleeping. Possibly terminally, who knows. I’ll try to keep it accessible until the end of days. Or until Flickr shuts it down. Whichever comes first.

In its stead I considered some ads from Google. Just … didn’t feel right. Icky. Plus, that’s no way to earn a living. So I’m back to the drawing board or the corporate sponsors really need get their asses in gear (respectfully looking your way, tasty beverage company Second Cup!)

For now though, I think I’ll just stick with the program. More photos, more writing, more stuff – and switch it up a bit in between. I’ve really been meaning to visit with my old undercover friend again; there are still plenty of locations to eat at / shoot up downtown. And I don’t remember restricting our clandestine meeting locations to breakfast joints. Though I do love a good greasy spoon

I also like the older bits of the city because they allow me to hearken back to earlier days, which I find amusing. Plus they look so antiquey, which I like.

Aside from these two subjects, I really will need to revisit the Toronto Blog All-Stars again. The “s” on the end implies that there’s more than one, so I kinda have to. And I’m pretty sure I’m not the only person with a blog in Toronto; just need find out where the others hang out and infiltrate their society. Secretly record our conversations. Then post them online in the form of an “interview”. All mostly not in many ways libelous.

Happily, as I look back through the archives, I seem to have a good bed of stuff to draw from. I somehow keep screwing up the pictures of Casa Loma and, although I have some photos from Honest Ed’s, I feel like that place deserves a more thorough going-through. But I managed to hit most of the major spots I’d wanted to hit — “be a tourist” was my mission when it came to locations, and I feel like I mostly achieved that.

I’m not sure sure I’ll be going to all the big events again in 2010. If TCL finally starts to pull its own weight around here, maybe I’ll hire a lackey to go cover each one. Then beat them mercilessly until they can turn in a flawless piece. Well, I’ll have standards to uphold, won’t I?

Yup, high hopes. To become a fat, industrialist newspaper tycoon with suspenders and a cigar, or to wield pitiful minions about with mere thoughts as Oprah does. Perhaps both. Have my minions bring me my cigars and send them out to wash my suspenders. Plus steak. The good life.

In the meantime, though, I still get to go outside and pull out my impressive-looking camera in front of anyone taking a photo. To men, it says danger. Full manual override danger. To women, also danger. Fully extended telescopic danger. To children, a toy to grab at and destroy immediately. But if I keep it out of their grubby little hands, it’s good. Interesting subject matter often isn’t a problem.

Ultimately, however, TCL would just be some dusty corner of the interweb without you, dear reader. It’s you who inspire me to keep moving forward and to take a shower before I leave the flat. Perhaps we’ll meet on the streets one day?

So, of all the things I’m hoping to do in 2010, the one that stands at the forefront is simply to continue to share my Toronto experience in a way that, with any luck, won’t bore you to tears. I figure you’ve got a few spare minutes so I shouldn’t waste them. I pride myself on running an expedient blog, if nothing else. And if you’re here just for the pictures, that’s okay too. I’m hoping to take the blog up a couple of interesting streets this year, and it’d be great to have you come with. Somewhere in Toronto, that’s all I can tell you right now

Happy New Year!

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I decided to make a title image for this because I paid four bucks for that sheet of Bristol board and I’ll be damned if I only use it once.

For tonight I decided to ask Oliver just one question after starving him for the evening. Figure I’d cut him some slack on the first time out. Here’s how the setup works: In round 1, a psychic motivator (in blue package below) is placed on each number to, well, motivate Oliver to make a selection, thus informing us of his psychic prediction. The numbers represent the number of letters in the answer, the letters are used to spell out the answer. Cat Ouija, basically.

I whispered the question into his ear and let him loose. The question was, “What will the most important event of 2010 be?” I know, pretty ambiguous, but I figured the answer would be even more so. In the first round, Ollie selected how many letters would be in the answer by munching on number 12:

In the second round I placed two pieces of motivator on each letter, thereby allowing for a prediction where each letter could be selected twice. I then set Ollie loose to reveal the 12-letter answer he had promised. You’ll have to trust me when I tell you what the answer as I couldn’t record, shoot, and watch as he gobbled up the future, all at the same time.

The answer, I must say, was a little obtuse: MLKLYZYMONPP

I have a couple of guesses on the meaning. MLK could easily stands for milk. LYZ? Probably layzee. MON is obviously Monday, and PP is most likely people. The message may be an imperative: Milk lazy Mondays, people!

I’m not sure how that qualifies as an event.

Could be my interpretation is wrong; maybe it’s a headline and these are the first letters of the words. Mayor Lima Kills Lovely Young Zebra Yesterday Morning On Northern Private Property. That seems a little more newsworthy. Lima is obviously not in the current running for mayor so he’ll be a surprise win. When he enters the race, put your money on Lima! Not sure how the zebra’s mixed into all this. Maybe African animals have migrated to Canada due to global warming?

Maybe this is Lindsay Lohan’s phone number, coded using the letters on the keypad instead of the numbers. Am I supposed to call her? I don’t really have anything nice to say.

Predictions to ponder.

I’ll have to run more of these by Oliver soon. He takes requests should you have a burning question on your mind, but I’ll have to limit how many answers he can consume in a single sitting. He’s already a bit doughy.

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