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Hmm….now where have I seen this bicycle before?

Oh yeah, now I remember: “Spontaneous act of art ordered removed from Dundas Street.” Maybe Mayor Ford isn’t trying to remove street art for the purpose of beautifying the city, perhaps he just wants it for his own living room?

Thanks for Councillor Mark Grimes for snapping that first photo, the Toronto Star for the second one, and to Rob Ford for providing the irony.

I know I’ve advocated imbibing a trifle before heading out for the the evening, but I’m gonna start prefacing that with, “except not to the point of getting shit-faced”.

Weaving between teenagers hardly capable of holding their drink let alone appreciating art of any kind, and the puddles of vomit they leave about the place, to me, kinda cheapens the experience. Not unlike using the English translation of Nuit Blanche.

So that’s the one thing about Nuit that this year stood out loud and sore for me.

Beyond that, I was sure the crowds would dissipate post midnight. Last year I headed out at around one o’clock, this year I was there sometime after two in the morning, but with considerably more people. I suppose that’s inevitable; the event now draws in excess of a million people and I’m sure there’ll be more next year. Clearly single-digit temperatures and the threat of rain means nothing to the swarthy outdoors art crowd.

Okay, criticisms dispensed with. Let’s get to the meat and potatoes, shall we?

So, once again I found myself unable to make it to the elusive Zone C. Since I live on the eastern edge of Zone A I necessarily have to traverse it to get to the other side. It’s about an hour of distractions, crowds, and everything and anything designed to ensure that you never make it through.

For starters, there’s always something going on at Nathan Phillips Square. This year the area in front of City Hall hosted a sprawling performance by Daniel Lanois entitled “Later That Night At The Drive-In”.

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Every once in a while a well-meaning relative or friend asks me, “why don’t you come and live out here?”

Part of the answer is in the question, really, isn’t it?

“Out here”.

“Out” can be nice, sure – for a visit — but “in” is definitely more my style. Yet often that’s a bit too abstract to be accepted as an answer. Not like you can’t get good doughnuts out in Whitby or a decent cup of coffee in Burlington. I’m convinced you can even get a good Greek meal out in the far-flung mining town of Sudbury. And the people? Yeah, sure, I bet they’re not all backwoods rapists and gun-toting hillbillies. Somehow, though, the context lacks poetry.

So in lieu of a concrete explanation, I hope to use this post to paint a picture. Perhaps I can print it off and simply hand it over next time the question is put to me – save me having to put up half-smiles and awkward references to twanging banjos.

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