Six days to 25 years
I'm six days to 30 today and I wanted to look back on this text I wrote, 5 years ago today, in Toronto.
A streetcar named desire
Arrival 2:40 PM. Freaking out about roaming. Complimentary shuttle to Union Station. Chipotle. Didn’t know it existed outside the US. It’s better here.
So many buildings. Fountains. Tourists. Long legged cool women. Businessmen everywhere. Truly the financial capital and it’s sexy. Less European influence more American. Skinny men holding hands. Pride is evident. Support for Orlando is evident. Montreal could learn some?
Walk to the Eaton Centre. Completely overwhelming. All the possibilities. All the clothes. TNA. Wilfred. Mendocino. Shoo. I can’t deal. The girl at the Nike store is nice. She’s wearing a top I have. She asks me about my whereabouts. I ask for restaurant recommendations and she names Pai. I have reservations there already. A job well done. No Roshes today. Or Huaraches. I try on a pair of chunky heels at Shoo. They’re unlike me but today, I am unlike me. Disney store. I see a realistic R2. I want him. Montreal’s Eaton Centre is embarrassing in comparison . I want to live here somehow. I never used to.
Bloor and Yonge. It’s sorta surreal. Metros every few seconds. People running around. It’s busy and alive. I see many Mauritians. Many Brown people. They look at me like maybe I’m crazy.
A yellow fire hydrant. 3082. Shawn is nice. He channels his inner lumberjack. The whole place is white and the floor creaks. There are flowers everywhere. They bought me wine for my birthday. Strangers bought me wine for my birthday. I feel a mix of happy and estranged from myself. Dissociation? The sheets are soft and I almost fall asleep. It’s 7 pm. I get up and take pictures. Everything is immaculate.
Dundas Street W. All the hip stores. And bars. Bakeries open until 11 pm. A vinyl record store open past midnight. Where am I? I feel displaced. Into a different universe. Every store so cool and quaint. I wanna shoot everything. I wish I had mad skills.
Imanishi. Australian waiters with tattoos are hot. Next to me a drunk trio dressed to the nines. They say they’re back from a show nearby. They drink sake and eat sashimi. It’s all quite sexual. I feel transported again. Everyone the epitome of cool. Tebasaki blows my socks off. The specific taste of soy has permeated the meat, somehow without all of the sodium I would expect. It’s adequately sticky and perfectly sweet.
Nagoya ramen is divinity. I’ve never tasted ramen this good. Background of crabmeat in there. Spicy but not overbearing. Like the lovechild of Tom Yum and ramen. My palate is infinitely pleased. I walk out with a $19 bill.
Hanmoto is next. But I’m too full. I walk by and in passing see various bars I’d love to be at. If only I weren’t alone. Churchill has a great vibe. As does Get Well. I could use a Shock Top. Scratch that. I could use a Scotch Ale. 10.25%.
I walk down Ossington Strip. I’m in love. I want to be this street. Bellwoods looks like something out of a dream. Dozens of tiny little bars all of them with string lights. It’s an absolute thing. They must make for insane bokeh. This place called The Grow Op makes me giggle. Bellwoods Brewery, OMAW, Fitzroy Boutique, Reposado. 21756 steps walked. Hotdogs at the 7/11. And kebabs. A bum giving me instructions. Actually make that two. 505 Streetcar. I can’t handle the beauty. Back to the fire hydrant. Houses that look like treehouses. It’s all a bit surreal. It makes me nostalgic. It makes me vulnerable. I wish time would stop. I wish I could absorb it all. Where does the good go?
Six days to 25 years
It goes to my tummy!