I guess it’s fairly obvious, isn’t it?

After a while a blog becomes like a part of your body; it’s hard not to want to scratch it regularly. For me, every other day seems to work okay but a week — well, that requires one big-ass scratch.

So, in lieu of a bunch of back-dated posts, here’s a digest of what’s been keeping me busy for the past week:

1. I’ve started a new blog. Kinda. The first part is the domain registration and the setting up of all the hamster wheels and such. Then the blinking buttons and knobs and switches get put in, and finally you have the beginnings of a blog:

   RayJohnBlog.com

   Did I explain that correctly? What I mean is, you won’t see much but an empty blog sitting there, so don’t get all excited. But I don’t expect to take too long until launch — I’ve got an adequately pointy and antagonistic theme picked out and I’ll be keeping everything else pretty simple at the beginning.

   K, so who’s Ray John? I am. He’s an alias, a moniker, a nom de plume.

   Actually, he’s a bit more than that. Ray John is a personality that I hope to develop into results like money, loose women, and fame. Not necessarily in that order. Of course, since I’ll be penning him, and even more importantly, since I’ll be the face (and perhaps voice) of Ray John, he’ll have to be some well established part of my psyche that has plenty to say. So if you can sit through this drivel, you should be okay with Ray’s stuff too.

   I’ve known two Rays in my life; one saw my younger sister for a while and ended up being the assholiest of jerks, the second was a developer I worked with who was a thoroughly enjoyable fellow. Neither Ray was the inspiration here … I don’t even particularly like the name Ray to be honest. The name comes from “rage on”, the underlying idea that started me down this slippery slope. The combined name “Ray John” works phonetically, sounds like a ubiquitously ticked-off middle-class white dude, and also uses the most common spellings of  both names. The thing was hardly spontaneous; sorry if that bursts anyone’s bubble. You can go right ahead and pretend I beat the name out of a three-headed purple dragon named Elvis if it adds to the mystique.

   Since Ray is also a Torontonian I’ll be syndicating some of his blog on TCL. Ray’s blog topics won’t be limited to Toronto, however, which is why I needed to make this split. Besides, I want to give him room to breathe and grow.

   Be sure to check out “The Ray John Blog: I Got Beefs” just as soon as I post a big honkin’ link to it at the top of the sidebar.As for Toronto City Life, why, we’re just getting started here. ;)

2. Got me my first fully independent contract (and I gave myself a generous raise too). Okay, so technically the second contract, but who’s counting? I started on a portfolio site but didn’t have a chance to add any content before I landed the gig. Meh, maybe next time.

   Still, great excuse to get me a new ‘puter. Nothing fancy, mind you, but she’ll crunch the numbers I need crunched.

   

3. A couple of nights ago I notice a “drip drip” coming from somewhere around the bedroom when the upstairs neighbours were running their water. By yesterday afternoon, the leak had broken through the ceiling in my closet.

   
   I’d assumed that the water must either be coming from the shower or sink … it ran too long for it to be the toilet (thank God!) The plumber initially agreed with my assessment but after poking his head through the ceiling for about an hour, running the neighbours’ faucets, man-handling the pipes, etc., he concluded that it was the grout in the shower upstairs that was the source of the leak.

   Seems like older buildings like mine had grout applied right on top of drywall so once compromised, the thing just turns to mud. In this case, however, it isn’t merely the grout that’s coming away, the whole corner of their shower is apparently all puckered up and ready to fall off. Minor miracle that I’d just noticed it now, in fact.

   So, good news is that, for me, it means minor drywall work in my closet. And I learned how to fix common water pressure problems too! For my neighbours, it means that their bathroom (and especially shower), will be off-limits for a while.

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There isn’t much that would encourage me to stay indoors on a day such as today.

Yet, I found it incredibly difficult to rip myself away from my flat. Even today. Obviously, I did, and will again, but I didn’t / won’t venture far. I was / will be thinking about how Jeeves was / will be making out.

Jeeves, is the new Roomba. I named him Jeeves because I’ve always wanted a robotic butler (I will learn how to attach a drink holder to him!). Also because he’s black and white, looks like he’s wearing a smart futuristic tux.

I should mention it wasn’t a snap decision; my upright vacuum is on its last legs. Plus, it smells funny. I was looking around for a replacement and came across this limited shipment at Canadian Tire. I’d bought the upright for about the same as the robot, and even the basic Roomba cleans by its frickin’ self!

Well I was sold.

I went to the one store that still claimed to have ample supplies, spent a few minutes sweating it out as another guy pawed the last box, and grabbed it as casually as I could when he returned it back to the empty shelf. I was hoping for black and white.

Christmas :)

Of course I tried the Roomba out as soon as the the “Clean” button turned green.

It’s incredibly difficult not to become mesmerized as the cleaner works the room the first six or seven times out. It’s hypnotic. I’ve lost hours!

Jeeves doesn’t seem to faze Ollie much, which is good for all of us. The cleaner makes about as much noise as a child’s large, radio-controlled, toy truck. Quieter than the upright, for sure. And he’s not really what I’d call intelligent – I suspect Ollie’s got him figured out. He alternates between turning in circles, travelling in straight lines across the room, hugging the walls, and bumping into stuff along the way. Occasionally Jeeves gets stuck in a tight spot, usually because he’s a chickenshit and scared to drop two centimetres (about three-quarters of an inch), from the fireplace tiles. But he gets up there alright!

So I’ve changed the layout of my place; I now get to blog in front of the big window overlooking the street :) Plus, after about six hours of charging, I set up the Virtual Wall so that Jeeves doesn’t enter the kitchen (Ollie gets to make a mess in there undisturbed), and set up the flat to barricade the off-limit areas. Then, get the hell outta there!

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As they set up to shoot the night scenes for “The Bridge” (a police biopic, I discovered), I took the opportunity of snapping a few photos of the outdoor set. This is the only one that didn’t feature one or another person’s ass:

Aside from the doily on top, I’m sure they chose this house because of its age.  It’s probably the oldest on the block, though there are numerous contenders for that honour in the neighbourhood.

My own apartment building is an old-style house not unlike the one pictured here, only wider (to accommodate ten apartments), and minus the personality.

It’s, let’s say, quaint. It feels warm and comfortable like my previous residence in rural Pickering in the same way that an old sock does. That smell of feet never really airs out and it’s drafty around the toes, but man it’s comfortable.

In the context of my neighbourhood, I think that my place is probably mid-range (price, size, etc.) A tall apartment building directly to the left of the “Bridge” house would be best described by the words “swollen” and “hovel”. If I were an upwardly-mobile young crack whore, I’d be setting my sights here. A little paint, some vacuuming, and that stank of bitter, life-ending self loathing comes right out.

But there are also places with “ROB THIS HOUSE” posted on every inch of the property; multi-million dollar reno jobs spilling over with gaudy fountains, ostentatious statuary, and semi-circular driveways on properties not more than eight meters (twenty-six feet) wide. They’re clearly just for show. Or clown cars.

Stuck between Casa di Rockbottom and the House of Betterthanyou are numerous alleys where the destitute make their home. Here, property boundaries are divided into areas for disposed bottle caps, areas for disposed Listerine bottles to which those caps belonged, and areas for inebriated homeless guys with sparklingly fresh breath who had recently consumed said bottles of Listerine.

I’m telling you, my neighbourhood’s a panoply of colour!

Unfortunately, the drafty window in my bedroom played a part in my decision to start looking for a new place. Well, that and the fact that the German superintendent is leaving soon. Who knew Germans could be so non-genocidal?

Now, I haven’t actually started looking so the ultimate decision about whether or not to move isn’t available. But I thought, if I’m out there looking through other peoples’ places; going through their medicine cabinets; stealing anything I may enjoy on my own shelves; why not take the readers of TCL along?

If you’re thinking of moving to urban Toronto or just enjoy descriptions of interesting smells, perhaps you may get something out of the series. It won’t be regular or anything, but I will try my damnedest to divulge the disturbing/kinky/amusing secrets of the places I visit.