http://www.blogto.com/sports_play/2014/09/10_secret_things_you_might_not_know_existed_in_toronto/

5 am in Toronto

Drizzy must’ve been reading my blog.

At midnight, all the agents and superhuman crew, go out and round up everyone who knows more than they do.

– Bob Dylan

Echo Chamber and the Rocking Horse

Midnight on a random Tuesday in December. York University Keele Campus. GJ steers the car into the loading bay dock area of the Joan Goldfarb fine arts building and parks with the engine on, headlights pointing at the red brick wall and green metal exit door.

I call Beata.

A minute later the metal door opens and her head appears sideways out of it into the spotlight of the car headlights. Chocolate brown eyes squinting in the spotlights. Her dyed red hair dangling down in a curl. Cherubim cheeks rising up in a toothy grin.

She walks quickly over to the car and suggests we pull over to the side and park next to the NO PARKING sign.

“Ironic,” I say.

She shrugs and smiles.

We follow her through the open door and then up some rickety metal stairs. She leads us through a disposal area with a large green compactor-type looking machine. They speak animatedly about things to catch up on. I hang back a few steps behind as i’m comfortable doing so i can listen and look around.

The smell of sawdust is in the air from woodwork done during the day. We take a left, or a right, or something and get to her studio door. The way she walks confidently around you can tell the building is empty.

In the studio there are six drafting desks lined up along cupboards and drawers, the desks are littered with art projects and canvases and sketch books.

GJ picks out a sketch book, opens it, and starts breaking up the weed with his fingers onto it while Beata shows me an art piece she’s been working on.

It’s a clay model of a large leaf that dips down to the ground at the tip like a slide. The majority of the leaf however is supported in the air by two beams. “The body of the leaf would provide shade, but the large slide conduit system would in essence capture rain water and disperse it to the surrounding body of land. In theory it would also have the utilitarian purpose of replenishing an otherwise dry area.”

I look over at GJ struggling to break up the damp ganja that’s been going around town lately. Everyone has been smoking this wet stuff for months.

“Do you have scissors?” I ask.

Beata stops and gives me a tight lipped smile, “Why are you always so cute?”

She looks around her art studio in a way that invites me to do the same.

Of course the studio is littered with scissors and blades and all sorts of cutting tools.

She pinches my cheek.”But how about we just use my pipe instead…” she suggests. “It’s a hashpipe but it should work.”

It was a reasonable suggestion and so we took it. We walk back through the hallways, past the compactor, out onto the steel stairs, into the cool December night.

We huddle around the pipe closely in a triangle, watching the glowing embers of the green leaves packed into the bowl, tapping lighters against the rim as we take turns.

The cool wind feels fresh. The smell of fresh ashes follows as we finish.Tapping the pipe against the metal railing it clinks musically as the black grinds drift out.

“What do you guys want to do?”

Across the way we see students through the glass walls of the opposite building, sitting at tables studying.

“I don’t know.”

I take a seat at the top of the stairs and let  my legs dangle over the edge. I can see the outline of leafless trees in the distance.

I close my eyes and listen to the wind for a minute.

“Want go to the echo chamber?” She asks.

“The echo chamber?” GJ asks.

Vari Hall is designed similarly to the Echo Chamber at Front and Wellington.

It’s a circular construction  with four openings which create a perfect echo if you’re in the center of it.

We walk through the Joan Goldfarb building through the side exit, past Curtis Lecture Hall and enter directly into Vari Hall. At least a 10 minute walk where we don’t meet anyone.

When we arrive at Vari Hall it’s deserted. The main conduit for thousands of students a day, all empty at 1 am.

“Ricolla!” I scream.

It echos, and echos.

The three of us begin stamping our feet on the ground frantically.

It sounds like a stampede of wild free horses.

Cheek’s Coin-Op Car Wash

3 am.

“Car wash,” Leon says from the backseat of my mom’s Yaris. “Car wash.”

“Oh god man,” from my rearview mirror I see Leon’s head hanging out the door window. “Don’t tell me…”

From where I’m looking I can see his head now hanging out the window for his second turn. The sound of a man choking on his own meals and drinks coming from outside my car.

The radio is playing “My Name Is” by Eminem on Edge 102. McKinney turns the volume up. His eyes are red, and he’s holding his “prizes” that he acquired from Dave and Buster’s that day flimsily in his drunk hands

There’s the skee-ball he put in his pocket from the arcade placed inside the pint-glass he took from the bar in one hand, Christmas tree bead-garment wrapped around his neck, and the Christmas tree he nabbed from the Duelling Piano’s table we started drinking at in the other – decrepit looking after we kicked it around the parking lot.

‘Started drinking at’ is a loose term. McKinney was drinking a 2-4 since 6 pm before I even came around at 9. Leon and Ted pre-drinking beers like madmen.

Who the fuck parties in Woodbridge anyway. There’s nothing to do there except cause shit. The line-ups I saw at Luxy and Berlin of dude-buds and their skanks dressed to the 9’s make me want to cry.

Now here I am pulling up to the red lights at Weston and Albion, trying not to pull up next to any cars so they don’t see this big hairy jew from New York in my backseat throwing up all over the exterior of my mother’s car, and a drunken cleptomaniac sitting shotgun blasting rap music until my heart beats. Not that there was any point, they all have mirrors.

Honestly, I was just feeling kind of numb. Ted had just told me a few hours ago over beers at Wendel Clark’s that I was getting laid of this weekend. I’m gonna be unemployed 4 weeks before Christmas comes up. I wasn’t feeling mad or sad really, but just kind’ve like I didn’t give a fuck.

I turn around to look at Leon, and all over the side window I can see mucous-filled vomit covering my car like the ectoplasm in Ghostbuster’s.

“God fucking damn.”

Light turns green, and I make a turn. Somebody on the street corner screams out “HA-HA!” like Nelson from Simpson’s.

McKinney’s passing out drunk next to me so I nudge him. I can’t remember how to get to Ted’s apartment.

“Car wash first,” Leon mumbles, waving American currency, seated fully back in the car. I get to another red light and brake, Leon slams into my backseat.

“Fuckin guy. Your money’s no good here. Literally.”

He tosses the money at me.

“There’s no fuckin’ car washes open at this time!”

McKinney mumbles something with a drunken smirk, droplets of spittle spewing between his lips, his chin in his chest, face red.

That’s when I remember the coin-op in Rexdale.

I take Albion to Islington, Islington to Finch, Finch to Kipling, Kipling up to Barrhead Crescent (just north of Rexdale Boulevard) and pull into the 24-hour coin-op. Meanwhile I make struggling McKinney search for coins through Leon’s wallet.

“Giselle gave me this wallet,” Leon said as he passed it over.

We wouldn’t have even been in Woodbridge that night if it wasn’t for Giselle. I asked Leon if it was really a good idea to get really hammered before you see your ex-girlfriend. Especially on one of your few trips up to Toronto from the US.

“It’s a great idea,” he said.

Whatever. She lives in Richmond Hill. Woodbridge seemed like a good middle ground, except there’s nothing really to do.

Leon stays in the car as I get out at the coin-op. The ground is wet cement. McKinney stumbles out, trying to put on his jacket and getting caught in it.

I walk around and see the entire wind-blown vomit all over the side of the car in two shades of Rickard’s Red, and poutine brown. The contents of what he had ingested in the last few hours.

McKinney is laughing like a madman, his eyes barely open. “Look at the mess he made!”

“Yea. It’s a really nice mess McKinney. Now how much money do we have.”

2 bucks. All in American quarters. Luckily, American quarters are the only currency that works in coin slots. Also luckily that just happens to be the price on the machine. Nice to know 2 bucks will still clean the puke off your car even when the world is in recession.

Ted gives me a call. He’s already at his apartment parking lot waiting for us. Daniel’s got his keys.

I didn’t feel stoned until just then for some reason.

“McKinney you have the keys to Ted’s apartment.”

He laughs.

“You’re gonna have to wait,” I say to the phone. “We’re at the car wash.”

“How long?”

“Depends.”

“Depends on what?”

“How long it takes to clean off Leon’s puke, and if he does it again.”

As if on cue the door to my back door opens and Leon comes out one arm, one leg, one head, one body at a time. Feet first like a limbo dancer. Hunches over a yellow pillar and starts spitting. A precursor to bad things.

Get off the phone with Ted. Dan and I put the money in the machine and retrieve the hose. We soap all the puke off, then spray it with water. Surprisingly we still have two minutes left so we

3680 Keele Street

Green light.

And there it is again, written in big bold numbers and letters, 3680 Keele Street. Big fences wrapped around the whole thing closing it in. The reason I passed it by the first time was I didn’t see an entrance. So I park across the street at the No Frills and call Lennoy.

He answers.

I tell him to “Come out”, I don’t want to chill here.

He says he has no keys, which is typical.

I ask him where the fuck I’m supposed to park in this place anyway.

In the front, he says.

How the fuck am I supposed to get in.

There’s a ramp.

There’s a ramp, one that looks like a walkway right off the street that disappears, and I can’t believe that’s where I have to go through. But I do it anyway.

Lennoy comes out, gets a guy named Carl to put a phone book against the door, and comes out. Doesn’t think it’s me at first, so I roll down the window a second time that night and scream at him.

He strolls over, “Yo Jon man, you got a sweet ride.”

I stare at him blankly. “It’s a fucking Yaris. Where do I park?”

“You can’t park here right now, ‘cuz um [he mumbles some reason i can’t remember]..”

Fine.

I drive out, take a turn at Grandravine Drive and do a u-turn. At the corner of the street, a middle-aged woman with brown hair and a blue winter coat on is waving me down, one foot off the curb.

I pull up and roll down my window.

“Thanks for stopping,” she smiles through a cloud of mist coming from her mouth into the air. It’s freezing tonight. She reminded me of my friend’s mom, Mrs. Badali, the way she smiled.

“Are you okay?”

“Good now that you’re here,” she smiles. She looks like one of my old elementary school teachers Mrs. Brownlee.

“Can I help you with something?”

If her car had broken down, I would have called a mechanic for her. If she needed a ride to the subway station I would have given it to her.

“I’m working,” she said.

“What’s your job?” I asked even though realization was dawning on me even as the words came out of my mouth.

“Sex,” she said. “You interested?”

“Oh,… no thanks.”

“Are you sure?” she asks but I’m already driving away.

“Yeah I’m sure.”

I end up making a right at the corner, even though I had made the u-turn on Grandravine Drive because I was supposed to go left. I make another u-turn off Keele Street itself and get caught at the red light on Grandravine Drive.

I avoid looking at the hooker that reminds me of a school-mom in case she’s looking at me.

On the opposite side of the corner is a younger girl wearing a black skirt and black high heels smoking a cigarette in front of the bus stop. At least this one has the decency of looking like a whore.

Where were you when Obama was elected President?

I was talking to a stripper named Kim in Diamonds on Dundas Street.

I had been minding my busineess sitting at the bar, where Lukasz had to told me to, watching the Maple Leafs game instead of the strippers trying not to get into any trouble.

“I can’t see myself needing to be there any longer than 15 minutes tops,” he had said to me as we left Chapters. “Don’t worry about it.”

Fine I said.

I’ll bring my book. I had just bought a copy of Long Story Short by Elyse Friedman with a gift card I got for my birthday in June. From the book store to the strip club on a Tuesday night. That’s what happens though I guess, and it was my fault really for  getting carried away checking out books until 10 pm, with Lukasz’s new job training starting at 11 as the new bouncer for Sunday nights. It was Lukasz telling me though that I should come with him, that his boss Matteo would probably only show him the exits and the bathroom and the changerooms in the back. And that’s it.

“15 minutes bro, seriously.”

Fine I said.

An hour into the place and I’m getting bored. The place is too dark to read anything properly, the only lights in the place being the red and green flashing lines that lace up and down the strippers bodies. Even still the only way to really see anything is to sit up closer, which I wasn’t.

Really? I hate strip clubs. Sure it was fun when my brother gave me his ID when he was 18 and I was 15. Sure it was fun. Going to strip clubs at that age was exciting because it was illegal, but afterwards? The places get depressing. You see the same pathetic old type of man sitting by himself in a dark corner calling girls just barely 18 to sit on their sad fucking lap enough times and you’re done with strip clubs.

And then there’s the strippers themselves. You don’t even feel like you’re talking to a real person, and really you’re not. All you see after awhile is how they see you – as a mark.

So I sat there are the bar trying to appear as stand-offish as possible, which was where Lukasz was telling me to stay so that he could find me after.

15 minutes he said.

Alright. I had an MGD, and waited. Then a shot of Jack Daniel’s, and waited. I was watching the Leaf’s game. We were down 3-1. Then it was 3-2.

The songs they were playing were slow hip hop.

The stripper on the stage screaming at the DJ in the booth, “That’s my second song not my third!”

“Yo,” the DJ giggles on the PA. “I smoke too much weed.”

And that’s when a tall blonde in a soft-looking black bikini grabs a chair, turns around towards me, bends over and moves towards me until her ass is pressing against the side of my body. She holds it. Then wiggles it then spins around with a grin, her tits jiggling in front of me.

“Is this seat taken?” she asks with a million-dollar smile.

Shit. And the game was just getting good.

“No,” I say, being friendly. Even if I know somebodys a stripper I just can’t be rude. And yes, I know it’s their job, and you don’t owe them anytihng. But it’s just not in me. “Go ahead.”

“Thanks,” she says through her smile as she slides her hand into mine where it was resting on my thigh. “I’m Kim.”

“Nice to meet you,” I say even though my chair is still facing towards the TV behind the counter.

“Come here often?”

The TV cuts to commercial. I turn around to see that she’s staring at me with her eyes wide open. And they are a gorgeous blue like lightly stained glass and I say to her blankly, “No. Actually I’m just here waiting for my friend, Lukasz,” I thumb towards Lukasz where he’s getting trained by the door. “He’s your new bouncer on Sunday nights, and honestly all I’m planning to do is wait for him and then take off.”

“Oh okay,” she says.

Then I look into her eyes of glass and see something I didn’t expect to see – relief.

“Hope you’re not disappointed.”

“Not at all.”

“I mean, if you want to go talk to somebody else, I won’t be offended.”

“Hun,” she sighs a tired sigh, a breath of air that leads to another smile, only this time it’s down a few notches. It’s nice. “If I wanted to talk to somebody else I’d just get up and leave.”

I smirk, “Cool.”

We both order a drink.

Kim was originally from Vancouver, just moved to Toronto five days earlier. I told her that I was planning on travelling to Korea pretty soon, but I was starting to get hesitant.

“I think you should totally do it. Travelling is awesome, personally I hate to stay in one place.”

“Yea well…how do you like Toronto so far?”

She laughs a little with a shrug. “I don’t. Well not really. I mean it’s okay, but I don’t know…”

“People can be pretty rude in Toronto.”

“Oh I know, coming from Vancouver though pretty much everybody knew everybody which can be both good AND bad, if you know what I mean.”

“I know what you mean. What about the girls here, are they bitches to you?”

“No,” she smiles shyly. “They’ve all been pretty nice.”

“Really?”

“Well I mean, I don’t get personal with them. I mean, they can be nice and everything, but I dunno, I mostly keep to myself. I think that’s what you’re supposed to do in my opinion. I mean I’m nice to them and everything when I see them it’s like, “Hi, how are you?”, but I don’t really think you should start associating yourself with them.”

“You have to keep your work and your life seperate…”

“Well, it’s not only that,” she says then pauses to think about it. “I guess I’m just like that too. I dunno it’s just better. ”

We chill for a bit. I turn to look at the girl dancing. She’s on her third song, dancing completely naked against the pole. “So basically the formula is this? There’s three songs. The first song the girl is fully clothed and she walks around a bit. Then the second song she’s topless and walks around a bit. Then the third song she’s completely naked?”

“Yep,” she sighs. “That’s the basics.”

“That sounds pretty..”

“Boring?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

In front of us a guy in a black shirt is running his fingers up and down the waitress’ back, trying to get her to dance with him. Sitting down at the table are his two fat 40 year old buddies clapping their hands.

“There’s a lot of assholes here,” I say.

Kim slaps my arm.

“C’mon, would you ever date somebody that went to strip clubs regularly?”

“Probably not,” Kim shakes her head with a laugh. “I mean, I don’t even like my boyfriend coming here.”

“I guess he doesn’t really like you working here.”

She laughs, “No actually he doesn’t mind, it’s me! He came in here once, and I could not dance in front of him. I went over and talked to him for a bit, and told him I can’t dance while he’s here.”

I laughed pretty loud. “You’re kidding. I mean, your boyfriend has seen you naked, right?”

She slaps me on the arm even though she’s smiling, “Hey it’s different okay!”

“I guess so…”

A 5’8″ skinny white guy with short brown hair and white pants walks by.

Kim nudges me. “That’s Matteo.”

I’m blown away. “That guy!?”

Kim laughs. “Yeah.”

I pause and stare at him. “That guy!?”

“What’d you expect, some kind of big fat italian guy with rings?”

“Actually yeah.”

“Well there you go.”

The girl on the stage finishes her third song and start walking off just as three more men walk in the club.

We look at each other and smile.

Kim takes my hand. “Thanks for talkin’ with me.”

I smile back as she slides up off the chair.

“I gotta go work,” she says cocking her head in the direction of the people clamouring around the stage.

Then she winked at me.

And then she was gone.

DST Halloween @ The Phoenix

Racing down College Street to get to Carlton, Martin Streek is on the radio saying, “Ladies and gentlemen if you will check your watches it is now… 1 am.”

Thank you Daylight Savings Time, really.

“Which means,” he continues. “You have one more hour to party!”

The crowd goes wild. Somewhere in there is Ted, Matt, Elvia, and Jade having already been drinking until what used to be 2 am.

GJ and I just having gotten off work at midnight, something that I was still a little bit sore about, we were about to just call it a day until we remembered what day it was.

So I slapped on  a black suit and tie, put on a black mask, grabbed a samurai sword, and off I was to save the day as a Crazy 88 with GJ in his army gear with bullet-proof vest, and we raced down Bathurst to College to Carlton to Sherbourne, parked in the Green P and headed into the club.

People seemed to be wandering out of the club under the Phoenix’s canopied gravel downward sliding gravel path dressed in just regular clothing. I was concerned that maybe not only was the party over but nobody had even dressed up.

Walking up to the doors a big bouncer in black came to block my path. “You can’t bring that in here?”

He was pointing at my samurai sword.

I laughed, “But it’s plastic?”

“Doesn’t matter, you’re gonna have to leave it over here.”

I sighed. Fine.

I moved to leave my sword behind one of the greco-roman pylons that the Phoenix has (god knows why) next to their stairs, and was pretty relieved to see that there was a motherlode of plastic toy guns, handcuffs, swords, lightsabers, knives, brass knuckles,…

There were people here.

*             *               *

The club was poppin. GJ and I went straight to the bar for a beer. There was the typical girls dressed as slutty nurses and cats and playboy bunnies and stuff, but there was everything else too. A 7-foot tall Death. Wayne was there. A headless girl. Ninja Turtles. Dudes dressed as hot dogs. Jason, Freddy, Chucky…

We went to the top of the back bar to see if we could spot out Ted and Co.

nuit blanche …almost

Didn’t leave for downtown until quarter-after-5 am. Talked to GJ earlier  around midnight when I was just getting off work, but figured he was snug-as-a-bug in bed by then. Called up Matt while steering my way down the Gardiner, my windows down blasting a chill wind with a rap song on 93.5 blaring (I stay up pretty long but even this is a little much for me) – no dice on Matt. Had to get off onto Lakeshore quickly since for some reason the Gardiner was blocked off by cops right there at the divide.

I turn right into the parking area on Lakeshore where the burger stand is. There’s only two other cars there. I call up Lukasz. He answers.

“Hey man any chance you’re downtown?” I say without waiting for him to say something else.

“Nah man,” he laughs. “I’m uptown. I’m mean up in our area town.” He laughs again. He’s baked.

“Oh okay,” I say. “That’s alright.”

I keep talking to him, mostly bullshit, but it’s hard to get a stoner off the phone especially when he doesn’t understand what you’re doing. As if it’s difficult to understand why somebody would drive down by themselves for a party that’s probably already over.

Chance.

I get off the phone with him, get out of the car and walk towards the beach area. The grass is wet, the sand is soft. I see the CN Tower shining purple and white on the skyline. Another building is completely lit up in bright lights – quite possibly the Scotiabank building. And around the whole area there is this haze of light aura, probably coming from some exhibitions still going on.

It’s 5:47 am and I figured this was probably as close to it as I was gonna get, so I take out my camera. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get any good shots. The lights were too far away and the clouds were too dark.

So I took a mental picture, and then went home.

not the way we imagined

 2 am Thursday. Sitting on the futon sipping on a Red Stripe. Jason passed out like a crackhead next to me. Leadbelly on the stereo singin “Tell me where, did you sleep, last night….” Boxes of books all around. Half a smoked joint on the little table in front of me. It’s basically a room that is both the kitchen and bedroom and living room and dining room. The only doors are leading to the hallway and bathroom.

Eric sighs, “This isn’t how I imagined this day.”

We had just spent the entire day moving Eric from his family’s house in Rexdale to a little basement apartment at Queens/Roncesvalles.

“What do you mean,” I ask. “You mean how it went today, or since you were a kid?”

“Since I was a kid man.”

“Why what’s different?”

“I dunno…I thought it would have been a lot sooner for one,” he laughs a small laugh.

I shrug and say something cliche like “It happens when it happens,” But I know what he means. There’s something very anti-climactic about this moment. But I don’t say so.

I look through his boxes of books. He lends me his copy of Before Night Falls, and a bunch of tapes for my shitty Buick.

I wake up Jason around 2:30 am. Finish my beer and go home.