I must admit, I was skeptical. The invitation to explore The Bentway neighbourhood through “the building of the route across the city as well as the big set off or ‘fall’ of the dominoes!” seemed contrived. However, the limited-time nature of the conceptually simple event proved to be rewarding. Maybe even genius.

Pretty sure everyone’s familiar with the cascading row of dominoes setup so you get the idea of what this event was about. Simple on the surface.

Within, though, there was depth to the stunt.

The path of Dominoes led through the Waterfront Neighbourhood Centre. Never been here before but I aim to return.

It’s a little oasis on the edge of an international airport and a bustling tourist sector.

It’s neat to see what actually exists right now — not just what can theoretically exist — at the heart of a modern urban metropolis.

I don’t know to what extent this event was advertised but it seemed to bring out a good number of people. I daresay, there was anticipation in the air.

When that last block went over the edge there was a hearty cheer.

Props, Toronto. Props.

_{P.S. In case you were wondering the bricks were made of aircrete (or something similar), a lightweight type of concrete that’s less dense than regular concrete. I picked up one of the blocks and although it was lighter than I expected, I suspect that if I’d dropped it on my foot from a carrying height I’d still probably break a toe or two.}

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

It’s not that I forget about giant red balls or apartment hunting, it’s just that I take a relaxed attitude to writing TCL. Some have described it as procrastination. Others, laziness. Others still, too much banana leaf. Who knows?

Sometimes it’s just because the big red ball needs a day off. That was yesterday. Today, it was up bright and early at the Ryerson campus Podium.

The location was perfect because it allowed the sunlight to hit the ball’s sumptuous, silky surface in the most striking way:

Clearly the glorious red vision was designed to attract because, like flies, children were soon buzzing around it, touching it in inappropriate ways:

I’m sure you’re asking, did I meet the genius behind this wonder? No, I did not. In fact, I don’t believe he was there. The same guy that had crushed my spirits two days ago was the same guy now in charge of the current display. He had a female assistant, but please trust me when I tell you that neither one of them was the artist. They just weren’t Caucasian enough. No, that guy’s probably sitting on a sailboat lighting cigars with hundred-dollar bills.

But I did get an attractive brochure:

I’m gonna wax a bit here and posit my own personal belief as to the ball’s purpose. That would be to highlight sections of the city that you may pass daily but wouldn’t otherwise notice if a giant red ball wasn’t wedged in there. It’s a sort of way of saying, take back your city, explore those strange little alleys between buildings, have another look at something you pass every day. And for God’s sake, you can’t see it from over there! Come closer! Come!

It draws attention. Gets noticed. Not afraid to show it’s ass in public. I mean, that’s the very definition of “photogenic”.

So if this was the artist’s aim, I give it two thumbs up. The ball has shown us sacred ground. Maybe it’ll even be visible from a satellite. Maybe it’s a Google marketing ploy. Who knows? I’m still glad it came and allowed me to bask in it’s glory for one brief moment before I had to trudge off to work.

*sigh*

Oh wait, it’s still around all weekend!

The crumply tin chairs and crumply tin tables at Dundas Square were again available tonight and I finally got to sit at one with a crumply six-dollar Stella.

The main show on stage was Disco Inferno who’s name left so little to the imagination that I couldn’t think of a word to write. I sat there certain that the scary security guard, who’s goatee alone would be considered a weapon, was peeking over my shoulder. It just wasn’t an environment conducive to concentration.

I gulped back the uninspiring lager and left the boozy oasis, seen here at back under the red umbrellas:

Note that Disco Inferno did actually have people doing the pushin’-up-the-sky dance (hold palms up and pump skyward – ooi! ooi!). If you can make out the detail above, there’s even an old lady getting out of her wheelchair in the middle of the crowd. Cured!

Here are the Inferno; numerous Bar Mitzvahs, weddings, birthday parties, and corporate events having tuned their act to this singular moment of perfection:

Far too many people were hurting themselves trying to re-live their youth and I didn’t want to join them. I wandered off to the pedestrian part of the square where there hung a bunch of photographs on triangular mounts. I guess these were intended to allow for quick juxtaposition of adjoining images, allowing us to more broadly grasp the photographer’s vision, to understand the underlying narrative that they’re trying to convey, but they were still mostly boring. Here they are being ignored:

To be honest, there were a couple of cool crowd photos. But not many.

A friend notified me that a giant red ball is being moved about Toronto to various spots and I discovered that it will be in my neck of the woods soon.  Giant red ball wedged into city crevices. That just kinda writes itself.

So far Luminato at Dundas Square hasn’t been the outlandishly artsy event it’s been billed to be. Unless you count the L’Oreal makeup tent as art. But maybe I’m not giving it a fair shake. Maybe the ball will silence me with it’s glory.

I wasn’t intending on writing about bicycles in Toronto quite so soon again, but then the mayor said this:

“NOW THEREFORE, I, Mayor David Miller, on behalf of Toronto City Council, do hereby proclaim May 25 – June 25, 2009 as ‘Bike Month‘ and encourage everyone to get outside and ride!” — here’s the PDF.

Guess that’s Life for ya — in the City of Toronto, no less. Unfortunately Bill Carroll wasn’t on hand this morning to appraise the situation; perhaps he’s at home fearing for his life. Us bikers can be a pretty aggressive bunch, it’s true.

Yes, I biked today. My highly affordable and questionably-constructed Freespirit Aluminum Concept 6061 (that’s the name … can you find the web site? … ‘cuz I can’t), made the ride quite exciting. Aside from the single occasion I had to explain, in passing and quite loudly, why a truck didn’t need to block not only my lane but also the lane of traffic next to me just to make a left turn, it was a pretty smooth ride. The pavement needed some work in sections and I could see someone getting a surprise facial makeover if they weren’t careful, but for the most part the ride was without incident. Cars were unexpectedly cautious; perhaps it was the gentle swaying motion or the empty liquor bottle I was dangling loosely from my left hand, but everyone seemed to give me a pretty wide berth.

The biggest annoyances on the road today were actually the other cyclists. I’ll be honest, I don’t really care how stupid they’re being in front of cars or trucks because, let’s face it, that’s Darwin’s theory being played out in perfect harmony with the universe. It’s nature’s way of preserving a base level of intelligence in the general population, don’t you think? If the need to show their brains pubicly is really that profound, what goddam right do I have to stop them? But when they start pulling that shit in front of other cyclists or pedestrians, it’s a bit different.

It was mostly the inattention that got me: making a turn and simply not looking anywhere but forward; cutting out in front of cars on red lights; pulling out across the middle of the lane or the sidewalk and just sitting there; sometimes it’s just an unnecessary inconvenience and sometimes it’s just plain dangerous. Perhaps the topic of a future Guide to Urban Insolence for drivers?

Speaking of dangerous biking, this month is being kicked off with a close-quarters free-for-all race called the Criterium which, if the photographs speak true, promises some good old-fashioned road-tanned hides. The starting-line scrimmage should be wipeout central — *THE* place to be! I’m so excited that I’ve taken to wearing Depends all the time now.

Unfortunately, not everything will be this festive. The month-long celebration allows you to pack the pounds you’ve lost back on with a variety of pancake breakfasts and a bike tour of Dufflet stores. I think the Dufflet slogan should be: “Does this in any way taste like you want to know how many calories it has?” They have very very tasty cakes. Very tasty. For a reason.

There are a bunch of workshops and a couple of parades where people from all walks of life get to exclaim “I love to ride!”, which if you interpret it sexually as I do most things, is quite funny. I’m not sure what’s going on with the Leslie Street Spit other than some people bitching about the cormorants, but it’s going to be a popular destination with at least two tours of the area and another just across the water on Ward’s island. There are also a variety of group events such as the “Tuesday Ravine Ride”, “Wednesday Night Ride”, “Fast and Furious Friday Night Ride”, and the popular “Weekend rides” which are also open to enjoyably sexual connotations.

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