Today I got a chance to try the headliner at the perennially busy (except this morning), Uncle Tetsu’s Japanese Cheesecake.

The cakes are a not unpleasant crossbreed between an angel food cake or maybe a soufflé, and a mildly flavoured cheesecake. With the exception of the company name, there wasn’t a lick of English anywhere on the packaging so I couldn’t tell what actually went into it. Allergies? That’s your problem.

The $10 cake should be enough for at least two people, and the $2.50 cupcake-like madeleines are a good alternative if you’re not willing to make the investment. I found both treats tasty and I’d probably get seconds if the hankerin’ hit, but despite the gushing adoration some people are heaping on it, you won’t catch me waiting in a line up for what comes across as essentially a sponge cake with a cream-cheesy taste.

Trusty Dundas and Sherbourne. Holla if you’s holdin’ or a hoe!!

To be perfectly honest, there’s nothing I enjoy more than having someone tell me how to operate my own equipment. I mean, a suggestion is one thing. That I don’t mind at all. It doesn’t make any presumptions. But when that short, older man (wearing a Yankees cap!) told me, “you can’t shoot directly into the sun, son”, I could scarcely contain my rage.

I took him to the nearby corner of Yonge-Dundas Square and I showed him a few things.

“You see, sucker”, I thought to myself. “There’s enough ambient light on the sidewalk”, now out-loud, “to illuminate subjects from the front. They’re kind of shadowy, but I think that’s kinda cool. All thanks to this iContrast thingie.”

“Ah!”, he marvelled. “What camera is this? I have an EOS Rebel XSi at home. Is that a Rebel too?”

“No”, I replied, “it’s a … umm …”. I’d forgotten the name. Flipped it over. “Oh, yeah, a Powershot … SX 10 … IS. Fixed lens (can’t stick another lens on there) … but what a lens!”

I went on to extole the virtues of the camera and its lens while flipping through the other photos.

“So, it has all the same software?”

What an odd question.

… Continue Reading

…continued from previous part.

You know, dear reader, the most aggravating thing about this whole affair lately has been that it got me off kilter. Weren’t we talking about Regent Park or something? Dang.

Unfortunately that seems like a lifetime ago now. And, also unfortunately, I’ve recently very much enjoyed re-connecting with the city again (i.e. more frickin’ pictures). So I’m going to pull some academia out of my butt here and am calling this final installment a “photo essay”. Haha! Wicked. Whoever thought of that one gets a high-five from me!

This implies there will be no words. *snicker*

… Continue Reading

…continued from previous part.

The “trial by fire”, as my manager put it, continues. This is the eighth straight day of 12-hours-per-day, no-breaks keyboard bashing and code-slinging. Sheer exhaustion set in about two days ago. The deadline looms, I get it — I just better get a few days off after this is all over!

In the meantime, however, the small pocket of wit I had stored at the back of my brain was used up about four days ago. I hope you bear with me through this challenging time, dear reader. It’s hard enough to just string a sentence together let alone something coherent. At least there are some photos to fill in the gibberish!

Plus, thankfully, Regent Park has a history that I can regurgitate to pretend like I’m saying something meaningful :) For example, after a little digging around I learned that Regent Park was considered a slum in the heart of Cabbagetown well before it was destined for the projects. In other words, I don’t think the buildings necessarily made it what it is. But I don’t think they helped.

There, didn’t that sound meaningful? Haha … I can’t even tell anymore!

Anystars, the northern part of Regent Park was built in the early fifties, the southern nearly a decade later. Apparently the guy who designed the southern towers won an award. From the air, I guess, they’re nicely arranged. On the ground though, they just don’t seem terribly people-friendly.

Oh don’t get me wrong, the place has “fascinating history” written all over it, even if that history isn’t necessarily all happy. Why the heck else would I go there? I already have enough crack at home.

There are some unusual aspects to the place that give it a little more fat around the jowl; you know — character. It is, after all, easy to dismiss it as that place you avoid at night, but that’s way too simplistic.

The majority of Regent Park is composed of mostly poor Asian people who’ve been living there for decades, most of them with kids. The predominant ethnic group is Chinese. Which pretty much proves that the Chinese are troublemakers. But if you don’t buy that, it at least shows that the problems that Regent Park has aren’t necessarily caused by one group or another.

… Continue Reading

Wow, I sure am being put through the paces these days. Big client. Big deadlines. No weekend :( Gonna be pounding the keyboard hard, so I’ll keep it brief and choppy. But luckily, that’s probably the best style to adopt for what’s coming up.

Also, I luckily managed to string that U of T series along for a bit, and even more luckily, the this week’s stuff is considerably less soppy: Regent Park!

It all started with a great documentary called Invisible City that I saw on TVO last Sunday.

In it I learned all sorts of interesting things, like Regent Park is Canada’s original housing project. And much like many of it’s American cousins, this one went south. You know, the usual stuff; drugs, violence, poverty, all mushed together in a gooey mess. There’s a northern part, made up of short and brutish red brick buildings facing each other antagonistically, and a southern part consisting of a cluster of tall, low-privacy, high-density apartments ringed by run-down townhouses.

What struck me as sad about the documentary, though, is that the two kids are already feeling a bit nostalgic for the place, both because of the course of their lives and, I suspect, because the neighbourhood’s being torn down. The new buildings being put up contain starter condos — around $200 Gs. That’s a very reasonable price for a downtown location and is a much more affordable starter loan. As shocking as this may sound, I think the city actually did something right there – it seems to make sense.

Unfortunately, it also means that Regent Park may be disappearing. I mean, it’ll be a while yet, but the revitalization is slated for completion around 2015. And, once again, bizarre as this may seem, I believe that the project is mostly on schedule. Weird, right? Maybe it’s because this is my homegirl’s ward.

In any event, shortly after watching the documentary I decided I had to see it for myself. I only had to walk a few blocks. I know! All this time and I’ve never been!

Well, I went, and I got a little panorama-happy. At least at the beginning — kept me in a natural three-sixty motion. Smart! But I relaxed eventually, though the place continued to be unpleasant. In the middle of February, not a place to bring your valentine. Well, maybe the right one ;)

Anyhow, the buildings may look a bit warped, but at least you’ll have context. But, because of so much context, I humbly request your patience when you click on the pics -– they’re loading, they’re just big. Now’s the time to get that refreshment you’ve been thinking about. Go ahead, it’s alright, that photo won’t go nowhere :)

Also, I’d recommend turning on full-screen mode (usually under the “View” menu at the top – or try hitting the F11 key). Stick your schnoz into the monitor to complete the effect. Finally, because the photos will probably take up more than your whole window, you should probably know how to get back here :D You have a few options:

1) Hit the ESC key. Works for me, probably will for you :)
2) Use the scroll bars, or the arrow keys, to scroll to the lower-right corner of the photo (down and right). Just below that is the close button.
3) Use the scroll bars, or the arrow keys, to scroll above or below the photo. Then just click anywhere on the blog.

And please enjoy your visit!

Continued in next part…

This is starting to look bad, isn’t it? Second Friday post that didn’t make it out until the weekend. But this time, dear reader, I want to assure you it was an absolute necessity. You see, an event took place this weekend that marks TCL’s first technical anniversary and I didn’t want to waste a post on something more mundane.

I say technical because if you look at the archives, TCL only goes back to January. But it’s really been online since November of last year.

Luckily the WayBack Machine has, as yet, no record of it.

At that time TCL had a mostly-black theme with content that induced hemorrhaging from the eyeballs and projectile vomiting. Pretty awful stuff. Back then I didn’t have the experience or the sphincteric relaxation to do anything interesting, really. Had anyone suggested I run a shocking exposé on what really happens at the annual Santa Claus Parade, I would’ve balked!

But in mid-November I attended Illuminite, the annual Christmas lighting of Yonge-Dundas Square. It was a cold and rainy November night, but the show went on anyway. Try as I might, I wasn’t able to muscle my way up to the front of the crowd, and it was in that soggy moment of inspiration that I remembered it was Toronto City Life. Most of these people were alive, so they qualified. I was getting all bent out of shape for nothing!

That epiphany, and the attitudinal adjustment that came with it, carried me through all the way around to this year’s event. Good thing too because there were a lot more people this time around:

Most of the show, consisting of fire, sparks, trampolines, and dancing, took place at the far end of the square. There was a lot of loud music that, more often than not, descended into a raucous noise that in no way said season’s greetings to me. Eventually, the same spooky music I remember from last year came on as the fire dancers wound their way across the square toward the stage I’d plunked myself behind:

The dancers paraded around on stage in wintry white and silver, twirling fiery objects and having pyrotechnics go off behind them as if to say, “here’s the last blast of warmth you’re getting for the next six months”:

The audience were close enough that one slip and the girl in the red hood got a face full of fire. Now if that’s not a reason to go see something live, I don’t know what is. The fireworks were pretty scary too:

Behind the dancers was the reason for the whole display, the tree.

… Continue Reading

Do you believe in signs? I mean, warnings of the future? Hints? Stuff like that?

I must admit, I do sometimes peek into the horoscope section of whatever I’m reading just to see what they have to say about my chances for the next day. I never actually follow up to see if there was any shred of accuracy to it afterward, mind you. I just like to be reassured.

I also like to look at the things around me as portents of things to come. Today, for example, I took another route home to try to get some inspiration for this post.  And inspired portents I did indeed find:

O — kay. The experience was even creepier because in the back there was a tent with a hunk of cardboard stuck in the front, presumably for privacy. And the whole tent shook rhythmically.  Yeah, don’t come a knockin’ rhythmically.

I guess it’s possible something else was going on in the tent. Some kinda art thing. Hehe … yeah, “art“. :D

Papier-mâché items like this (sometimes just limbs), littered the space which also seemed to double as an entrance to some flats in the back. I think. The tent was as wide as the alley so that ended that detour.

Anyway, the sculpture seemed a bit disturbing to me. Kinda like death with an empty name card. As in, anyone’s up for grabs. And then a man’s ass emerged from the tent. Eee!

I hauled.

A few blocks later I looked up and … ?!

Could be some sort of Portuguese decoration? Or maybe … ummm … I need help. Wait a minute! I’m in possession of a semi-functional brain!

Me: “Hey pal, could I trouble you a moment?”

Brain: “The heat … I was gonna go take a nap. Is it important?”

Me: “Totally! Look at that. That’s the second thing that’s reminded me of death today. That one especially because it’s obvious. Is this a warning about death? Our death?”

Brain: “Haha! No. That’s probably someone’s ‘art‘. I mean, look at it! Maybe some viral ad for something, but do you think they nailed this here just for us?”

Me: “Hmmm. Yeah, you have a point.”

Brain: “I mean, the odds of you even seeing this are astronomical. Don’t read too much into it.”

Me: “Thanks, buddy!”

Brain: “No probs.”

And then, across the street from the AGO:

Brain: “Wow. Now this surprised even me.”

Me: “Me too!”

I suppose I could look at it through the Tarot Death card interpretation. It could mean the passing away of a personal epoch, or sometimes parts of oneself. Often this is accompanied with a more positive reading, like this process will give birth to new parts of you that you didn’t know existed. Exciting! Cancerous!

That throws some healthy ambiguity on the fire. So I guess there’s still plenty of room for a reasonable explanation. I just hope that one day I find the people who put these things on the poles; they’ll be the ones with the explanation. That tent guy, well, I’m not going near him again, so we’ll chalk that up to “art” and look no further.

Dear guy who fell at the AMC theatre,

Hahaha! *wipe tear* Oh man, you made my morning today. Thank you.

So I take it you fell off the side of one of the escalators in the enclosed photograph, correct?

Look, I don’t think actions such as these should be punishable by death, so I hope you get better. But seriously? Trying to ride the handrail? Here?

I’ve done my fair share regrettable things while inebriated. That was it, right? You were drunk? I get it. I’m always a little more invincible than I really am; I don’t think as well as I should; that’s what alcohol does. But I’ve never once thought that a two or three storey, head-first plunge onto a slab of concrete would be the thing to do. And I don’t know how you could’ve overlooked the height. You probably don’t remember, so have a look at the photograph again. Besides the great visibility, you probably got a good sense of the layout on your way up, no?

Well, listen. If you’re reading this, that’s good news! Stick with the physio and you should regain almost full control over the drooly side of your face. I know your situation sucks, but to be honest, I’m glad it wasn’t me. Then again, at 27, that wasn’t me. When you can dictate or write again, please send me a reply to describe your thought process at the time. I would be most interested.

With ancticipation,
Patrick

—

Dear Ms. Mohamud,

Okay, so let me see if I’ve got the story straight.

You went to Kenya to visit a relative. Had a good couple of weeks; nice place.

So then you went to leave and the people at the Kenyan airport said you didn’t look like your passport. Something about your lips being different? I had a look for myself, as you can see in the enclosed photo, and the passport photo probably bears the greatest resemblance to you out of all your identification.

So if I have it correct so far, they held you in detention (basically jail) while they contacted Canadian officials to verify your passport. Apparently all of the other government-issued identification cards you surrendered (among other things), were also supposed to have been forged or stolen, or something like that. I bet you were thinking the Canadian government would sort it all out for you, huh? After all, you are clearly who you say you are.

If were in your shoes, I would have shat a house when I learned that Canada then cancelled my passport as a verified fake. Are you as curious as I am to know how they came up with that? A government-backed inquiry wouldn’t be a bad idea. I mean, it will take a decade, but might as well start that mossy stone rolling, no?

Okay, so no documents. Honestly, asking to be fingerprinted was really smart. I don’t remember the feds taking my fingerprints when I came to Canada as a kid, but I guess they do. It would seem obvious that as an immigrant, they’d have your prints on file too.

But they didn’t.

Now, I completely understand why they would destroy your prints after doing a background check since, apparently, that’s all they’re supposed to be used for. Sensible, but obviously not of much help to you.

What I don’t get is why they kept you dangling for two weeks refusing to take them, then waiting two more while dithering whether or not to do so, then finally doing so, then two more weeks while they checked back home, and only then discovering that they don’t keep them on file.

Three months of Canada Border Services sitting on their thumbs. I can see how mistakes could be made, but this … how did you not freak out?

I know you haven’t decided whether or not to sue the government, but I want you to know you’ll have my full support if you do. The rolling of heads also gets my vote.

Sincerely,
Patrick

—

Dear busker at Dundas Station,

Thanks for letting me take your picture. Your music was like a Siren song. A jazzy Siren song. Minus the Siren. I don’t know how you managed to permeate the whole station, but it was just magical.

I hope you come back again soon.

With admiration,
Patrick