I've walked many miles through cities, up mountains, across bridges, fields and highways. By far, one of my favorite places to walk is Queen Street West in Toronto, the long stretch from Yonge Street all the way to Roncesvalles Avenue. Why? Because you never quite know what to expect. It's usually packed with people and it's a street, for lack of a better term, you can feel. It's alive in ways that are difficult to really quantify.
Read MoreI'm not one to shy away from a good fart joke. George Carlin was one of the most intelligent and insightful comedians that ever stood on a stage, but he included fart jokes because: "Where would a comedy show be without a few fart jokes?" Now, I'm no George Carlin, obviously, but I would like to dive into this territory.
Last week, I went to go see the Shakespeare in High Park performance of All's Well That Ends Well. The show was great, the acting superb and the interpretation of the play wonderful. But I'm not here to write a review of the show.
If you have never been to Shakespeare in High Park, the show takes place in an outdoor auditorium. The auditorium is built into a hill with cement blocks lining the ground for seating. You basically sit on the ground and lean your back against the cement blocks. Not the most comfortable, but hey, how often do you get to be outside on a warm summer night and have Shakespeare performed for you?
Read MoreA few weeks ago, I hosted the storytelling event, Stories We Don’t Tell, at my place. I don’t have many people over and wanted to make it as welcoming and comfortable as possible. For some reason, my place is fairly well insulated and I rarely need to turn the heat on in the winter or the air conditioner in the summer.
But there were people coming over! They needed to be comfortable! The day of the event, I tried to turn on the thermostat, but all I got was a blank screen. I have zero talent in being handy around the house, but actually managed to unscrew the thermostat from the wall. There was no battery, it seemed to be powered by a series of wires. All of the wires were different colours, similar to when you’d see the hero in a movie uncover a bomb attached to a clock counting down the seconds. There was no bomb. I was pretty sure there was no bomb.
Read MoreThe first thing I noticed when I walked into the bookstore was the smell. I couldn’t remember the last time I was in a bookstore that wasn’t a Chapters or Indigo. The last few visits to those stores were bathroom breaks or to get a coffee.
The smell brought me back to remembering how much I used to enjoy walking around bookstores and seeing what popped out at me. I have no nostalgia for the printed book, I think that ship has sailed. I used to have tremendous pride in my book collection, but after moving them several times and ending up living in a place that has limited space, I whittled my books down by half.
When I’ve tried to do this before, I’d pick up a book, read the back and return it to the shelf with fond memories. Sure, most of them I’d never thought of since finishing them, but there is a sense memory with books. Some come into your life at the right time, serve their purpose and are forgotten. Maybe not forgotten, but somewhat integrated into your psyche, and become a part of who you are as a person.
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