Category: Toronto

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As if the horrific fire which afflicted the Queen West and Bathurst-area earlier this year weren’t bad enough, I found myself today doing errands in those parts and, expecting to see the tobacco store – Westside Tobacco on the northeast corner – with its trademark wooden “Indian” out by the sidewalk, I instead happened upon a closed shop with a candlelit memorial in front of the entrance.

I looked up again and saw notes posted by the community on the windows and on the door. It didn’t take much time for the tone of the notes to surrender the truth, that the owner was dead.

A note I read, the one which carried the most context for me, was printed from this blog.

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Live In Toronto: update

For anyone in Toronto who didn’t check out Pas Chic Chic back in April, they are playing tomorrow (May 3rd) as part of Over The Top Fest 2008 (note: there isn’t a week in Toronto where there isn’t some sort of film/music festival happening). They’re at the WhipperSnapper Gallery (587a College St. 8PM. $8 @ the door).

Although I’m not likely to make it this time out due to other commitments, I enjoyed their previous show at The Drake, even though it was barely publicized. Mind you, neither is this one. I don’t know what the issue is, and where the finger should be pointed, but for some reason the only publicity Pas Chic Chic gets is from fans, which is unfortunate as you’d think their label (or someone) would have a vested interest in getting the word out.

By the way, I managed to pick up their CD, Au Contraire – it’s very good. I’m hoping (hint to anyone out there visiting who knows the band) they decide to share the lyrics with us someday soon, as my French isn’t good enough to understand what’s being sung half the time.

[May 8: Pas Chic Chic‘s label has provided feedback in the Comments to this post. Looks like the culprit is more complex than I’d guessed. Thanks for responding, guys!]

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(I’m still here)

It’s the 10th of March and we are within 17.8 centimetres of breaking a Toronto record for the most snowfall, set in the winter of ’38-39 @ 207.4 cm. You know prospects are bleak when people start betting whether we will overcome the record, as opposed to the typical Toronto attitude, which is “It’s March! It’s almost Spring! Why do I have to shovel?”.

The symptoms of winter hold on to us; they take us hostage without ransom notes, without reason. We wake up, wondering which of the three sweaters we have been rotating for the past four months we shall wear, staring contemptuously at our winter coats, at our cold salt-stained boots.

Spring, I reason, is a triumph of the mind over the body and the heart – both of which are savaged by winters like this. You have to believe that some Spring day, no matter how far off from now, the temperature will rise to 10 degrees and not drop. You have to believe that there will be a day where you can remove your coat while standing outside and not feel the stopwatch of our animal frailty ticking toward frostbite. Soon, the snow will permanently melt from the sidewalks like an ancient curse lifted.

We must believe.

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