Wednesday, November 30, 2005

Il etait jeune, beau, l'espoir de sa mere...

And then, he was corrupted. By the lures of masturbation. Dah-dah-dum.

Please, my dear self-abusing friends, learn from this young dandy's sad, poorly-illustrated tale.

Sunday, November 20, 2005

The emerging AGO.



Change is afoot at the Art Gallery of Ontario. Or, more properly, cha_ge.

Dundas is blocked off from Beverley to McCaul, and the whole strip looks like the Balkans exploded into Modigliani-fueled chaos.

Saturday, November 19, 2005

DNTO, November 19

I think that one of the most painful moments for a reporter in any broadcast medium must be when you simply cannot wrap your mind around what your interview subject is saying.

It’s an understandable problem when the subject is, say, Renaissance economic theory. Such was definitely not the case today, however, on Definitely Not the Opera - my favorite CBC radio show, as anyone who knows me can attest.

Host Sook-Yin Lee is interviewing Shawn Majumder, a stand-up comedian from Newfoundland who’s been a frequent guest on This Hour Has 22 Minutes (and is honestly, one of the only reasons to watch said show anymore). As you might be able to tell from Mr. Majumder’s last name, his father’s from India. His mother is a Newfoundlander to the bone. And Shawn grew up in the somewhat less-than-diverse 400-strong community of Burlington, Newfoundland.

So, Shawn is telling an amusing anecdote of how as a young boy growing up in Burlington, he had no conception of what it meant to be "Indian" - as in, someone from India. He remembered describing his father as someone who wore a headdress, because that was the only sense in which he’d ever heard the word "Indian" used. The small-town, often pejorative sense.

It was a charming story about childhood naivete. And Sook-Yin simply did not get it.

She could not put together that the point of Shawn’s story was that, as a small boy from rural Newfoundland, he’d never seen someone from India. You could practically hear the gears in her head chafing against one another, as she tried to reconcile why a man with a Hindi accent would be wearing a headdress. It was painful.

That, or she didn’t want to acknowledge the use of the "I" word on public radio. Which would be unfortunate, considering the story was in no way racist or inadvisable for broadcast.

The rest of the interview - which lasted over a half-hour - was up to DNTO’s usual standards. It was an odd moment, though, in an otherwise very excellent show (much of which was devoted to Johnny Cash and the opening of his new film "Walk the Line.")

Toronto, late afternoon.


It's been cloudy here lately, and the sun goes down earlier and earlier. This skyline photo is taken from the eighth floor of the computer science building at the University of Toronto.

The buildings look like they're straight out of Sim City.

Monday, November 14, 2005

Google saves the day.

I'm onto the always exciting "Parking Information" section of the airport survival guide. According to the Greater Toronto Airport Authority (GTAA), there are 16,000 parking spaces available at Pearson.

That's a large parking lot. I must have had at least 16,000 Hot Wheels when I was younger, so I know. A 16,000-strong parking lot would at least take up the entire rec room of my parents' suburban home, assuming all the cars are the size of brazil nuts. And I think that's a safe assumption.

But, assuming not everyone is familiar with the size of the Pritchard family residence, here are some other statistics, courtesy of a quick Google search on the phrase "16,000 people."


  • "Pearson provides 16,000 parking spaces - enough parking for every person who converged on Fort Bening last week to protest the School of the Americas, a US-run training camp for Latin American Soldiers."
  • "Pearson provides 16,000 parking spaces - enough parking for every person who will be infected by AIDS today."
  • "Pearson provides 16,000 parking spaces - enough parking for the number of people some DJ named Adrian performed in front of without, tragically, peeing beforehand, according to his blog."
  • "Pearson provides 16,000 parking spaces - enough parking for every person who has a website through Scientology Online."

I'm leaning towards the AIDS statistic. Safe sex + informative statistics = a good time for all involved. Plus, everyone knows Scientologists don't use airports because they can levitate.

Thursday, November 10, 2005

Autumn in Toronto.



Scenes from fall in Ontario. The first shot is taken from an alleyway behind my house, and the following two are taken on my street (Markham St.) three blocks north of my house.

What I find amazing is that the second photo is taken literally one metre to the right of the third.

I think Ontario's protracted autumn is probably the best thing about the province. In Saskatchewan fall isn't so much a season as it is an hour or two on a Tuesday.

Two fun facts about airline security.

But first, some context. I'm a freelance writer, which is a nice way of saying no newspaper will hire me because I have a dearth of newsroom experience. (Ponder the paradoxical nature of that statement for a moment.) My current "gig" is a fifteen-page traveler's guide to Toronto Pearson International Airport that I'm writing for Torontoplus.ca. It's the online home for Toronto Yellowpages.

Anyhow, in my research into what can and cannot be packed in one's carry-on luggage, I found this helpful chart, provided by the Canadian Air Transport Security Authority:

http://www.catsa.gc.ca/english/travel_voyage/list.htm.

First, I find it amusing that from the vast cornucopia of food products that an airline traveler might pack in his or her carry-on luggage, the CATSA felt it particularly important to iterate that fruit cake could be safely brought on-board.

Second, for all you dominatrices or Indiana Jones Fan Club Presidents, rest assured that whips have not yet been prohibited from commercial Canadian airlines.

I, for one, feel safer already.

Friday, November 04, 2005

Seeking poppies.

Where on earth does one find Remembrance Day poppies in this city? I realize that for some inexplicable reason Remembrance Day is not a holiday in Ontario, but honestly - why can't I find just one bloody poppy?

I have veterans to remember here. I can't do that without a piece of garish, mass-produced red felt pinned to my lapel.

In other news - I built a futon! I hammered nails into a frame and everything. I'm like Jesus but with more Wilco albums.

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

Introduction, with orb.


That's me. The guy in the orb - which, for the sake of context, is prominently displayed in the window of a hair salon in Toronto's Portugal Village.

I'm not sure what it's doing there. But, I like to think if you gaze into the orb long enough, it will reveal your hairstyling future.

Anyways, this is my new blog. The title is from the song "Here I Dreamt I Was an Architect," by the Decemberists. It really is not related thematically in any way to the eventual contents of this site, though I suppose that were the moon to one day crash into the earth, it may serve to alert the authorities to the possible guilt of a crazed carnival barker.

Not that the vast majority of carnival barkers are anything but valued and trusted members of our society. Hug one today!