Trampoline Hall

Went to Trampoline Hall for the first time last night and enjoyed myself thoroughly. All the speakers were great and I walked away feeling depressed! What more could you want in an evening out? Depressed, but only because there are so many amazing people out there doing cool things and I continue being me. I think it's a good sadness to have, one that will inspire. OR crush my very soul and encourage me in more lawerly pursuits.

The speakers were:

Mary Albino - The Mean Problem

Instead of a diatribe about the film Mean Girls we received a lesson on the dangers of averages, what can be lost in the morass of numbers and summation.

Christine Pountney - Lot's Wife and the Art of Looking Back

Starting with an action many people do when leaving a building, looking over their shoulder in the direction they aren't going, launched us on a discussion of paths not taken, nostalgia and dementia, memory and the joys of living if not in, at least with the past.

For her a life gains stability and relevance only so far as all the experiences leading to you-now are remembered and cherished. Even/especially the bad ones.

Kristy Willow - Transitioning

Coming from the personal experience of discovering her dual-sexed nature following a heart attack and 28 minute death at the age of 50 plus, the talk focused on finding doors and going through. Choices can be good or bad, but if it turns out being the latter there's always the next door to try.

After the show Daydream and I walked down Ossington, contemplating all that had passed our ears and falling into our traditional staccato banter about where we are going, what we are doing and how we should get there.

As I say above, I don't know if what I saw at the event scares or inspires. Maybe both. But it's certainly better than the stare at the computer screen, indecisive, nothingness that seems to fill too much of my downtime. I still have no idea about anything except now I know I need to keep pushing myself. Out there. I need to see people do what I want to do, but more amazingly.

Maybe I'll just get a pleasant evening out of the deal, but the hope is it will push me toward something significant of my own.

Daydream reminded me I need to get away from the endless end result speculation that haunts my being. Instead of creating to create, doing things because I love them, there's a hint of doing things because it will bring me success. Money-whore and attention seeker. A man without confidence who needs the constant reassurance and praise of those around him, and if only the whole world could see his majesty, then they too would throw up their arms and lose their minds in rhapsodic praise.

Too often I miss the now, focusing instead on the awaiting future or perhaps fester upon the past I've let slip me by.

Oh you. Coming at things all wrong. If I'm going to write, I need to write without goals for a little while, create without direction and see what comes. Answer some big questions; If I'm not doing this stuff, is it because I see it as a chore? Do I even have the passion I claim? Do my passions lie elsewhere?

Questions I've asked and answers I've known, leading nowhere for years. Let's see what I can do with them this time round. Remember, getting nowhere can take forever and I'd do well not to waste eternity.

The mental anguish and joy of an evening well spent, summed up in a wee Twitter poem, re-posted here because not everyone reads the sidebar and what's the internet if not an echo chamber to reconfirm existence on a regular basis?

I need to find a crack to pull myself through WORDS need actions or die BUT the streetcar thrums and the city speaks of nothing but choice

(I even maintained the silly caps on instead of punctuation format!)

As Daydream said, Heh, it's a very nice bit of self expression via high tech communications.

For the time being that will have to do.

The Macallan

Wonder of wonders, I was invited to a classy event last night! Finally I understand why I have my hair cut by Enzo from time to time.

(insert photo of me standing around, looking casually delicious - never taken - here)

The event was a Macallan scotch tasting and as if that wasn't classy enough One Restaurant (Hazelton Hotel) was the setting and Matchstick played host. Toon was my hook-up and Deck was along as well. Smart girl that Toon, showing up at an event about 90% boys with 2 of her own.

(Toon has more photos - mostly her legs but I'm in there too - here, with the promise of more still to come)

Well. As long as she's happy.

We had the the pleasure of our whiskey guide Marc's knowledge, and 10, 12, 15, 18 and 21 year old vintages with which to wet our whistles.

Much to my delight geography featured heavily in the evening's information. Scotland to America and the north of Spain, we learned all about oaken varieties, cask manufacture and how distinct environments donate flavour to the drink through a woody medium.

Marc even gave us a chemistry lesson, the relative merits of ice cubes, ice balls and chilled Lake Ontario pebbles. Then threw in some economics as well, focusing on the impossibility of scotch soothsaying. Twenty-one years ago no one at Macallan could have predicted the recent scotch boom that has caused supply and demand conundrums the world over.

Heck, 21 years ago I was tidying up grade 1 art projects with Mrs. Kaufman, oblivious to everything save recess and what was in my nose.

Just like any normal red-blooded male, all the talk about barrel manufacture - bourbon in America, oaks in the north of Spain, 100 year plans for stave manufacture - got me thinking about maps.

Shocker! I know.

A map project that encapsulates the geographic spread of a bottle of scotch and the time it takes to come together would be fun. For that I'd need to think about ways to draw time alongside the spatial language maps are already so good at. There are examples, here's one of Napoleon's ill-fated march on Moscow, so I have a starting point. Don't know what the end result will be, but here's hoping for giggles.

Oh right...the tasting part. Delicious!

The 10 year old was smooth, as was the 12 but with more complexity (is that the word that makes me sound clever?). I found the 15 had more of a smoky edge, it strangely reminded me of some Islay malts. The 21 year old was mellow in an inexplicable and delightful way, one that I can't really remember but know I want to try again. Then the 18...ah the 18. Finally a scotch where I could taste the toffee, the fruit and the layers that all those people that drink the stuff are always talking about. And for the low low price of $289 a bottle!

Let me join you scotch drinkers! Give me money, then let me join you.

But seriously, as Mark repeated over the evening, there's no need to be a snob around scotch. If it tastes right for you, it's the scotch for you. There's so much variety in palate and preference, sometimes changing over the course of a day, to become too concerned with age and cost is to miss the point.

A great event! And to top it off they sent us home with a lovely little loot bag. Tumbler and samplers and tasting cards, oh my.

And I won the draw meaning + one bottle of the 10 year old for me!

Here's me bemused and confused, basking in the glow of applause that broke out (not just Deck) upon my name being announced.

I work hard.

I deserve it.

I think Toon was jealous, then she stole some when I wasn't looking. Thief! Damned thief that brought me to the event in the first place, therefore all is forgiven.

We were even taxi chitted all the way home. Given the evening started with a streetcar driver telling me I don't like being hailed like a cab this seemed like a nice way to finish up.

-some photos courtesy of the organizers

Good Bye TOMson

Another week, another going away party. This time though, it's for the guy over to the right. That guy!

What's wrong, can't see his face? That's because he is a mystery.

TOMson is heading out west, to take up a new position with GreenPeace. It's funny, you'd think with all those dirty hippies on the west coast they'd be able to find someone to fill their management position, but apparently not.

So now they're poaching our very own dirty hippies to help run things.

Greedy, greedy west coast. Don't you have enough dirty hippies?

Okay, that's enough attempting to raise readership through scandal and conflict. Who needs that stuff anyway?

Dirty hippies.

Cheese and Fancy were there, looking, I believe the term is non-plussed.

Fancy has no excuse to scowl, but Cheese...well her feet are broken. Slowly healing. This was the first time she'd been out since she had surgery and her feet were feeling a bit heavy and uncomfortable. We got her there slowly but steadily. One third shuffle, one third crutching and one third exhilarating piggy back ride. After all day on the bus yesterday I was happy for the exercise. At least she was able to pull off the plastic bag and enormous protective booty combo stylishly. I know I couldn't.

By framing the shot thus ways, with Daydream's hands, I turned it into art.

I've been claiming a lot of my photos lately are art. Hopefully I'm not getting too pretentious. If I am, someone smack my head (but gently so as not to hurt me).

The Golden Girl was there, wearing a colour for the first time (that I can remember). It turned her into a light fixture obsessed demon of some sort, but no one is perfect so that's okay.

Then a series of fingers and thumbs appeared.

Followed by a red Toon. Doesn't she look happy? She keeps saying she's really happy and I would tend to agree.

And after a whole lot of hugging it was time to go. Someone in this picture smells funny. My guess is it's me.

Bye TOMson. You'll be missed but not forgotten. Heck, I might even see you out and about tonight for nuit blanche.

Slippers' goodbye

I don't have much to say here. Really this post is an excuse to use some of Toon's pictures to liven up my blog.

The tall, bearded man in this photo is going away soon, so he had a party for him. It was nice of him to invite other people to his shindig. There was much musicianship and good times.

I'm only posting a few of Toon's pictures from the evening. If you want to see the rest, go to her place.

I chose to post this one to thank Toon for letting me use these. I didn't ask, but I'm sure it will be okay.

I took this picture.

This one too!

I used my powers of height to achieve this angle. If it was a yoga move it would be called Downward Babe. Note to readers: this is an optical illusion. Cheese and Toon are not the same height.

This last photo I feel is nice. I can't remember what we were going for but I like it. Because I'm so tired I look gruff. People will see this and think,

WOAH!

Not a fellow to be trifled with!

They will think that in very large, loud words because they are intimidated and know I am not one to take guff lightly.

Don't GUFF him, they will whisper. He won't abide it.

Aside from this sexy chest rub, the other highlight of the evening was a chat with a beautiful lady from Montreal. She is starting an MFA at York in dance. Hopefully she will not be busy soon and we can hang out.

This never gets old

Put it on HQ if you have the bandwidth, crank the audio (sound quality is not the best), sit back, relax and enjoy.

Wednesday holidays

Summer's end is fast approaching and one mustn't waste any of it. I don't know what you would do, but if you're me you make an exciting journey eastwards with your friends!

All the way to Oshawa and it's pleasant beach and shoreline park environs. Oshawa? you say, The place of cars that once were but are no more?. And I say Yep, that's the one. It's on the lake so it has a beach.

And boats! Or at least one boat.

I always take pictures of boats when I'm travelling and it isn't like this one is any less cool just because it's tooting its way into Oshawa harbour, so here it is.

It's important to stay covered up when in the sun, apparently. I find this strategy also helps with my allure. You know the ol' keep 'em guessing gambit.

Because later, when you start doing handstands, or ninja kicks, or performing The Lake Dance, you want to make sure you have maintained your dignity.

The ninja kick and parts of The Lake Dance are very similar, but I assure you distinct.

As you might have guessed I thought the water was pretty swell. Cheese found it a bit too cold (note cringe in hips) and Ash and Slippers never even tried the darned stuff out.

But everyone agreed bocce was top notch.

And hanging out around the table time was also a popular activity. What's a one day vacation without some of that sweetness?

After all that we even went bowling. No pictures of that glorious occasion, but I assure you I was by far the worst. I did improve each game and think I broke 75 by the end.

Satisfied.

CNE me!

Last night was a trip to the fair!

Well, I'm sure the organizers of the CNE would consider it something more than that, perhaps THE fair. Calling it the Canadian National Exhibition puts at least a touch of grandiosity on the event. My expectation was the Owen Sound fall fair writ large and I was not disappointed.

The rides were bigger and there were more of them than back home, although The Zipper was there, as was the Gravitron 2000, renamed Spaceship 4000 just so they could get ahead of a few millennia. We rode some sort of spinning device, whose name eludes me, that spun us around and around, forwards and back, and best of all Cheese partook and did not barf. Later, after dark, we rocked the ferris wheel.

Food was not only plentiful but varied beyond belief. Could have had a 99 cent cup of spaghetti, but didn't. Eaten by the crew were; fries, perogies, corn dogs, waffle-ice cream sandwiches, hot dogs, dried sausages, bacon sandwiches and British chocolate...I think that's all. And all that barely scratched the surface. We didn't even try the chocolate covered bacon, but I guess you always have to save something for next year!

And of course there were way more games as well. There was some mightily intense mole whacking going on, along with rings that bounced off bottles and our one win of the night in the birth month/age/weight contest. Moggster took that one down and earned Barack Obama for her troubles. So many more games could have been played of course, but there was only so much money to be wasted and over sized animals to not be won.

Our last stop before departing was a beer garden, featuring ridiculously priced beverages for some and a 4 piece band playing whatever they were feeling. Jake on keys rocked and had our appreciation screamed at him periodically. I suppose that counts as us seeing a show at The Ex; apparently there are lots, just not when you go for the discounted evening rate.

So that's the CNE. Bigger and more varied than the fall fairs of my kiddydom and lacking the agricultural aspect, which I suppose is what the Royal Agricultural Winter Fair in November is all about.

Chinese and the Moon

The other day I was fortunate to have the opportunity to visit with two old school chums. We all worked at a humour paper together back at the alma mater, or they worked and I dropped by to chat and steal food. Really an all around winning situation.

B suggested a Chinese restaurant which was excellent and the conversation was both lively and stimulating, ranging from politics to the philosophy of mathematics to a documentary being filmed with post-Tito Slovenian photocopiers (???) to general hilarity. Really we covered all the bases.

The best aspect of our time at the restaurant, however, had to be the discussion surrounding the bill. There was a line on it we couldn't figure out, or a few lines. We knew one was tax, thought one was for a coke but then there was another mystery line which I would have guessed was Coke related...confusion during ordering, etc. Anywho, B asked the lady what a line was and she said tax, B then asked what another line was and she said tax, without really paying attention to the fact he was pointing at a new line. "No, this one." "Tax!"

She thought she wasn't being understood so wrote, on the table cloth and in pen, TAX in 8 inch tall letters before circling it! Then in much smaller font beside it '13%', just to let us know. On the table cloth! and the way she did it, it didn't look like a first time thing. But we sorted it all out, wandered out on the street and someone suggested a movie. Since we're all entertainment movers and shakers it was a no brainer.

Went to see Funny People although AJ had seen it he said he wouldn't mind another run, but then somehow Moon came up and Brendan was really excited about seeing it again so it was along Dundas to Moon instead, buying tickets an hour early so back along Dundas to Spadina for frozen treats (raspberry milk shake), then back for the film. The teatre on Dundas Square is great. In the upper florrs of the building, after miles of escalators. As Brendan said, this is what living in the 21st century is meant to be like.

And Moon, I enjoyed it. Not amazing but nice. Easy to ignore then discuss later certain amusing leaps of logic. An interesting change in the pacing of movies as there was no big reveal, summation and explanation towards the end. The 'surprise!' came earlier and the thrilling conclusion was a bit more low key. I will say this, when the thing-that-I-won't-mention happens, I thought the actor just HAD to be Sam Rockwell. No one else is going to be able to pull off that thing.

Whatever it was.