And here we are, the year 2010 summed up in just 5 measly posts. The best of the best, baby! Bust out the caviar.

#5

White Night 2010

http://www.torontocitylife.com/2010/10/04/white-night-2010/

Nuit Blanche is one of those events that may be getting just a bit too big for its britches. I make it a point never to head out before midnight, and this year even that might’ve been too early.

The exhibits are different every year so I like the fact that I don’t have to wander far. Despite vowing to do so every single time.

The submission process for this year ended in early December, 2010 – some artists are contacted by the curators and commissioned, some can apply for an honorarium, and there are a bunch of open slots available for people who want to do their own thing. This year they might move the application process up on the calendar. I’m tellin’ ya, it’s a behemoth!

I think it would make for an interesting documentary to see someone attempt to visit every exhibit during the overnight event. It could be called “Race through the Night” or something, and it could be part tongue-in-cheek and part busted lip. The last time I did the calculations, it should be possible if every exhibit was experienced for roughly 30 seconds. Then quick quick travel.

This is one to toast with a couple of energy drinks.

#4

Bastard Greeks

http://www.torontocitylife.com/2010/08/09/bastard-greeks/

Not a place for kids. Learned that lesson quick and hard.

Oh, you can bring ‘em, but there ain’t a whole lot for them to do after their second Gyro. I took one of my nephews through a “haunted house”, a claustrophobic 15-second walk pushing your way through an inflated house with an occasional shifty-looking Greek popping out of hidden folds yelling, “Boo!”

Then you’re out and you can’t even imagine a worse way to have blown $3.

For the adults, though, it’s a nice, gut-busting weekend. The prices are often set at sample-level, starting at $3 kinda thing, and a sample is often pretty filling. Most of these are, after all, 90% meat, as required by Greek tradition.

Now that I think of it, you might want to leave your vegetarian friends at home too. I vaguely recall maybe seeing a roasted corn stand but I couldn’t make it out clearly in the haze of barbequing meat.

I’m a bit worried about the intrusion of foreign elements into the Taste; it seems to be losing a bit of its character. Hopefully, though, it’s just a momentary blip.

#3

Pride Parade 2010

http://www.torontocitylife.com/2010/07/06/pride-parade-2010-part-1/
http://www.torontocitylife.com/2010/07/07/pride-parade-2010-part-2/

Here’s another ballbuster of an event; Caribana and Nuit Blanche run in the same league. Pride, however, seems to happen on the sweatiest day of the summer each year, and I’m sure it’s for good reason too.

There were numerous ass-less chaps and much exposed skin. On the porn meter, I’d put it up there near a tame version of Citytv’s Baby Blues. Still wouldn’t bring younguns to it, but otherwise pretty harmless; ‘cept the heat and the sun and the crowds – yikes.

And in three years (if the city doesn’t bust its seams by then), they’re planning to step it up: WorldPride 2014

To be blunt, if gay people offend you, Toronto might not be the best city to find yourself in. But if you can cope, the rest of the time they just use all their nervous energy to make their Church-Wellesley-area neighbourhood really nice. In the summer, they freak out and throw a parade. Maybe I’m misreading it and it could just a matter of civic pride.

#2

Goodbye summer, we hardly knew ye

http://www.torontocitylife.com/2010/09/06/goodbye-summer-we-hardly-knew-ye-pt-1/
http://www.torontocitylife.com/2010/09/11/goodbye-summer-we-hardly-knew-ye-pt-2/
http://www.torontocitylife.com/2010/09/20/goodbye-summer-we-hardly-knew-ye-pt-3/

One day you’re watching the snows melt, the next you’re eating deep-fried butter in a desperate attempt to squeeze one last drop out of summer.

The C.N.E. is one of those things that I hope the city never loses. It seems to have the crowds so I’m looking forward to going again many times. And that deep-fried butter – dang, it’s actually really good.

It’s been a rite of passage for how many generations now? You know, The Ex closes and back to school with the lotta ya little buggers! Hahaha!!

I don’t do the rides anymore, though I always urge thrill seekers to most definitely do so. It’s not that they’re thrilling in and of themselves, it’s their age, questionable operators, and lingering memories of past accidents that make them truly scary.

I remember there being more animals at the Exhibition but maybe I’m getting it confused with the Royal Winter Fair. Ah, the damn place is just so filled with memories!

#1

Weekend of weekends

http://www.torontocitylife.com/2010/07/15/weekend-of-weekends-part-5/
http://www.torontocitylife.com/2010/07/09/weekend-of-weekends-part-4/
http://www.torontocitylife.com/2010/07/02/weekend-of-weekends-part-3/
http://www.torontocitylife.com/2010/06/30/weekend-of-weekends-part-2/
http://www.torontocitylife.com/2010/06/28/weekend-of-weekends-part-1/

Possibly a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, this was. I mean, *sniff*, when will I ever get to photograph this many cops, together, from all parts of Canada, united to beat your ass if you step out of line. *sniff*

I still maintain a pretty hard line against many of the protesters. It’s why I had to stick my proboscis between them and the police, right at the front lines, just to see who was being the bigger loser.

Yeah, I’m sure some of the cops stepped out of line too – I’m not naive. I was told a few times by local bike police to “watch out for those Montreal cops”. Seems that ever since the October Crisis, they’ve just been on edge. And after the event the hordes got shipped back to wherever they came from; local law? Screw it – prosecution for only the few local cops who could be identified (and that takes some doing).

Whatever local law is anyways, because no one from the Chief of Police on down seemed to know what laws were being invoked, and then how to properly invoke them. For the Chief to basically just shrug his shoulders at that moment was a bit disgraceful. It wasn’t that the law was “secret”, to paraphrase the start of his blubbering, “we just didn’t tell anyone about it.” “Oh, and did I say five meters outside the fence? I meant inside!”

And so on.

The whole event shook up some people. For many, I’m sure it was a reaffirmation of their belief that cops aren’t human. Sometimes that belief was the cause, not the effect; a fact that some people still refuse to see.

I had my own run-in with the cops prior to the event so I had my fair share of jadedness – it could’ve gone either way. At the same time I was kept on the razor’s edge by some of the idiocy being lobbed out by the other side.

But by the end of the day, having been there for almost the whole thing, in my mind the cops fared better than the “protesters”. The ones carrying the placards and marching peacefully weren’t the ones who threw the bricks or set the fires, and like many people, I wish the cops had beat the latter group’s asses as they looted Yonge Street.

The other problems that followed were a real simple equation: cops tense from the previous days, imported trouble-makers who don’t give a flying fuck, plus people who feel a sudden need to demonstrate that they’re “free”.

The cops swooped in, some genuine trouble makers were conked on the head, some ignorant goofs were too, along with suddenly socially aware media whores, and at the end of the day I’m pretty satisfied that most of the people who sat on their asses in those cells probably deserved to be there. And guess what? Police can stop and detain you for up to 24 hours without a warrant, G20 or not, so people for whom this is a genuine concern can continue to express their outrage the other 51 weekends out of the year. I haven’t seen much evidence of this.

I learned a whole lot that weekend and the weeks leading up to it. It wasn’t always easy to watch, but we got through it and, I think, we’re a little wiser for the experience.

Although it’s almost 6 months later now, conduct is being questioned and people are making apologies. Well, the cops are anyways. I really wasn’t sure what to think going in, but it’s exactly why I had to be there.

When the clouds finally lifted, the boards were removed with shiny new glass underneath, and the graffiti had been scrubbed off, I ended up feeling pretty optimistic about Toronto.

Definitely the biggest story of my year.

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But do you notice how they never bother to mention the party that happens at the end, or how, really, the only thing that ends on New Year’s is sobriety?

I’d wanted to knock a few glasses during the countdown but my celebrations ended up being a bit more demure. Wait, no, non-existent is a lot more correct. Maybe it was the change in weather (the overcast, rainy evening), or maybe I’m just getting old, but I plunked my ass on the sofa at around nine in the evening intending to head out in a couple of hours, and I closed my eyes for just a few moments — just a few goddam moments! – and that was that.

I woke up on the first at around four-thirty in the morning with a Jersey Shore marathon doing laps in the background, Ollie spread-eagled in the middle of the living room, and everything so painfully over that there was really nothing left to do but turn it all off and get back to resting my eyes.

On the well-rested side, I slept comfortably in the knowledge that Nathan Phillips Square likely wouldn’t have been any different than it had been during the past few years: no-name entertainment, Citytv dignitaries, fireworks going off thrillingly close to City Hall, rain, cold, and the same old rigmarole.

Yup, Toronto City Life isn’t all glamour and glitz, despite what you might read around here. And what exactly is it about, then? Why, perhaps I could start off with the first picks in a top-ten list of my fave posts from 2010, to illustrate. (Hey, everyone’s doing it!)

—

#10

Sweat and Spandex 2010

http://www.torontocitylife.com/2010/06/02/sweat-and-spandex-2010/

Definitely makes the cut because of relative ease of access, great location, great subjects, and almost guaranteed drama. I’m still a little surprised that this event isn’t more popular but I’m thanking my lucky stars at the same time — you can get just about anywhere around the track while enjoying fine beverages and meals along the way. It’s a classy sort of spectator sport in that way, and is quite a grueling workout for the commoners out there on their bicycles every year, grinding metal and bone against pavement for your amusement while you feast and imbibe. Can’t be beat!

#9

The Projects project

http://www.torontocitylife.com/2010/03/07/the-projects-project-pt-3-the-photo-essay-one/
http://www.torontocitylife.com/2010/02/23/the-projects-project-pt-2-2/
http://www.torontocitylife.com/2010/02/19/the-projects-project-pt-1/

Regent Park is a volatile place at the best of times. Just when police thought they had a hold on the violence in the area that erupted there a decade or so ago (if I’m not mistaken), it seems to be returning as of the end of 2010.

Gotta be honest, if it wasn’t for the graffiti, the place would look like a prison camp. Straight up. The buildings are squat, brutish, and not usually well cared for. Dumpsters sit prominently in front of each squat and it’s mostly nothing but pavement and brick of the same ilk in all directions.

It’s meant as the go-between place for people new to Toronto. At least, that seems to have been the idea since time immemorial. But some people are never able to make it out for one reason or another. Not sure why someone would choose to be stuck there, especially when you see the amount of hopeful / guiding / mournful / unifying / uplifting stuff that adorns neighbourhood’s walls.

And don’t mistake Regent Park as some dropping off point for criminals, although it seems to be a good place to engender some. There are people there from all over, many with kids, most just trying to do better. The city can just be a bitch sometimes.

All the best in the new year, Regent Park!

#8

Honest Education

http://www.torontocitylife.com/2010/02/03/honest-education-pt-3/
http://www.torontocitylife.com/2010/02/01/honest-education-pt-2/
http://www.torontocitylife.com/2010/01/29/honest-education-pt-1/

When old Ed Mirvish died a few years ago, among the eulogizing attendees at his funeral were the mayor (plus two former mayors) of Toronto, current and former Premieres of Ontario, and the Lieutenant Governor of Ontario.

Ed was a big cheese.

That goes for every sense of the word too. When you enter into Ed’s store, the wacky tacky three-ring and block-wide circus of shopping, there’s absolutely no doubt that P.T. Barnum and Mirvish were cut from the same cloth. The amount (and I believe it’s growing), of memorabilia hanging from the walls is sometimes staggering.

My faves include old posters from the shows that Ed put on at his growing retinue of theatres, and the signed photos from the actors that appeared in them. Then there are the enlarged reproductions of Ed hob-knobbing it with the Brat Pack, the Queen of England, and famous people of all kinds – singers, actors, politicians; it just keeps going and going.

And just when you think there couldn’t possibly be more, you hit the basement where they sell very different stuff – a 19th century Thai shrine, for example; a cool $24,000. But it’s all sitting out on the floor just like the $2 socks on the level above. Come to think of it, the socks were more neatly arranged.

I still can’t believe they didn’t shoo me out of the store for whipping out my lens at every opportunity, and just for that I can continue to recommend Ed’s as a place to buy quality merchandise at cheapo prices. Those $10 blankets I bought during that visit are holding up well, and if you visit at around this time of year you might end up with a free turkey too.

#7

Zombieology 2010

http://www.torontocitylife.com/2010/10/24/zombieology-101/
http://www.torontocitylife.com/2010/10/26/zombieology-102/

Brains. Braaains. Brains. Brns brns brns. Braaains. Brains. Brains brains, brains brains brains Brains brains? Haha! No effin’ brains. Brains brains brains braaaaaaains.

Brains brains brains – brains, and more brains – brains brains brns. BRAAAAAAAINS! I brained. Brain brain brain, brain brain? Brains! I brained a brain and brains brained the brain. After that, it was all just braaaaaaains and brains brains brain brain brains.

Brain the brains next year. BRAAAAAAAAINS 2010.

brains.

#6

Tripping a Frozen Sunset

http://www.torontocitylife.com/2010/01/11/tripping-a-frozen-sunset-pt-1/
http://www.torontocitylife.com/2010/01/14/tripping-a-frozen-sunset-pt-2/
http://www.torontocitylife.com/2010/01/16/tripping-a-frozen-sunset-pt-3/

This wasn’t a series I liked because of its brains but because of its beauty.

One of the problems of living in Toronto is winter. It sucks outside the city all the more, but it can get just as cold and frozen here as anywhere else. About now is when that period begins.

And there are the short days too. You look outside at noon and you’d think it was the middle of the frickin’ afternoon! The sun hangs low in the south so if you’re blessed with a clear day, the only place to get good lighting during an early winter sunset is by the lake.

One of the cool things about living in Toronto is what the ice and snow do the city, especially by the water. You can get an eyeful there at the right time of day (or night). It’s the scale of the thing that I enjoy; a frozen lake of that size, illuminated by a glowing sunset or piercing city lights – that’s something to see.

—

Oooh! There you have the first 5 picks of 2010. And believe me when I tell you, I agonized over every post I’d written in the past year during the selection process. I mean, just picking out 10 random posts with photos would be cheap and meaningless, right? Hehe. *nervous laugh*

Continued in next part…

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If ever you’ve experienced an aversion to screaming midget hellions accompanied by double-wide-stroller-pushing “adults”, this is the one event that’s guaranteed to permanently damage your brain. Santa becomes Satan so very easily.

Dante’s little excursion through his so-called “Inferno” was, in comparison, a pleasant bonfire. Which would’ve been nice as this particular circle of hell was damn close to freezing over.

On top of this, imagine thousands of screaming infants, cranky at the excessive gaps in the procession because there were no more clowns to keep them entertained (or because they’d just been entertained by clowns).

Oh, it wasn’t all TSA-approved body cavity searches. Some of the floats were your standard Christmas parade fare and that’s okay. But even then I noticed a general propensity for using characters that had massive, Japanese Anime-like eyes. Except the Japs’ stylized characters are usually pleasant, if not mildly arousing. The things atop these trailers looked more like Smeagol (a.k.a. Gollum). Preciousssss.

And in bygone days we had corporate sponsors to blame for the declining mirth, now it’s a lineup of what looks like recycled floats with the soft drink logos ripped off. ‘cept they’re not fooling me, I know who these polar bears use to shill for.

Both my nephews still believe in the fat guy. I blame that irresponsibility on their parents.

Maybe my sis is trying to do some vicarious holidaying; she maintains that I stripped the joy out of Christmas by forcing on her irrefutable evidence that Santa doesn’t exist. Sounds like something I’d do. But listen, the earlier they learn that reindeer don’t fly, rabbits don’t shit chocolate eggs, and that uncle Patrick is really the guy who ponied up for their awesome new PS3 game, the earlier we can all get to enjoying the true meaning of Christmas: alcohol and time off work.

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I’ve been trying to understand the appeal of zombieism — it does, after all, seem to be gaining in popularity. Is it simply a fad? Once the flakes start to fall will they just slow down and freeze, or will they have enough brains to wear parkas?

That just-feasted-on-your-hippocampus look doesn’t do much to protect you from the ravages of a Toronto winter.

Not that I’m against skimpily-clad zombies, per se, but it just seems like a very limited-time sort of deal.

Then I came to the realization that the whole march is an early Halloween for big kids. You know, being cool and undead and all, they do it a couple of weeks before the tykes, but the concept is basically the same.

I don’t see a need to dig into any deep sociological theory. Seems pretty self-evident.

Having said that, I don’t want to be taken in the wrong way here. If this is what yanks your chain then, hey, by all means indulge in a little brain. To me, the appeal of autumn is a much more holistic experience; zombies are simply a part of the larger picture inhabited by unshaven werewolves, toilet paper mummies, ghostly sheets, teenagers dressed as … teenagers, shabby plastic Scooby Doos, and so on.

But you have to give some of them points for effort. It’s one thing to smear a little blood on your face but a genuine zombie really needs to up their game to be taken seriously. Being dead has the advantage of being able to do all sorts of fucked up shit to your face, so that’s where originality comes in.

Then, at the end it’s a big old party in the park where everyone gets a t-shirt and does a spooky boogie. This is not unlike getting a grab bag at a Halloween party and then doing a nervous jerky jig when the party music starts.

At the end of the day, zombies put their pants on one leg at a time like you or me. Well, I sometimes do both at the same time, but that’s probably not relevant. Someone who willingly engages in zombieism simply has a nostalgia for when they were younger, when Halloween was about real spooky stuff, when they were alive. I myself maintain my tenuous sanity through a web of partial memories and nostalgic fragments, so who am I to judge?

I say live and let stay dead.

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Yup, season’s fully turning now; a fantastic, cold, autumn fog is rolling over the evening city as I write this; leaves are half-shorn and fully gilded; sun’s setting at around 6, to me the most obvious time for evening to start; squirrel’s are getting pudgy; zombies are back on Toronto streets.

The annual walk is now getting between 5,000 to 6,000 zombies and they were tagged as participants for the first time this year. Before this it was just first-come-first-brains.

It was still a pretty casual, slow-moving and cumbersome affair so the new formality was mostly pointless. Toward the end, all sorts of individuals were joining in unhindered.

But mostly it was non-celebrity zombies.

The walk started in Trinity-Bellwoods Park but unlike last year terminus at Bathurst Subway Station, it continued west on Dundas toward Christie Pits — quite a ways to be dragging the old carcass around without any refreshments.

As usual, the route wound through Kensington Market where the group met with some resistance.

Generally, however, the people of Toronto were welcoming to the undead; you’d be surprised how many (in)famous people have joined their ranks!

Perhaps even more significant is the number of normals that swelled the crowd this year. You know, your standard workaday brainless slob.

I make no pretense of understanding the aim of this march. Every year it’s the same rallying cry: “What do we want?! Brains!! When do we want ‘em?! Brains!!”

Interacting with the zombies is generally pointless. Unless you’ve got a meaty cerebellum on you, it’s really tough to get their attention. And then, of course, they never look you in the eye when you’re having a conversation anyway, do they?

Continued in next part…

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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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