word on the street

'Word on the Street' festival today, like Christmas in September for slightly nerdish bookworms like me. My first time at the festival happened by accident, I was newly licensed and still in high school just starting to make the drive into the big city in search of something...anything other than the coffee shop/pool hall mind-numbing monotony of the suburbs. When I was a kid, I read - a lot. My version of getting in trouble was being yelled at for checking out too many books from the library at one time. There was nothing cool about it, no bookclubs to join, and no one to talk to because playing pool (actually, watching the boys play pool, but that's a different story), smoking, bush parties were all kinds of cool but reading? Not cool.

At the time, finding the coolest street in Toronto closed to celebrate books, and to find the street packed with people who seemed like the kind of people I'd like to know, was a revelation. A good one. I look forward to it every year the way some might a real holiday. I don't usually buy anything but I love being there, wandering around, watching the crowds and getting slightly giddy at the sheer number of people there all for the love of books. People still read, all is not lost.


"Magician at work", he hoodwinked a little boy's parents into putting $20 under his pillow tonight because "Put this piece of paper beneath your pillow and if magic actually exists - and it does - you'll wake up to find the paper replaced by $20". Funny.

Not sure what the pig had to do with it all but cute...


Not sure who these guys were supposed to be but they were kind of creepy...


Taking the Philosopher's Walk shortcut back up through the city

last month/this month

dude!

Sometimes I imagine that if Kai could talk at more than a 1.5 year old level it would be one long stream of "Dude, WTF?!?". I don't think us big people make all that much sense a good deal of the time...

dogs like poutine too

The energy surrounding that doorway was so absolutely filled with longing to be inside that even I started gravitating towards the door and I don't eat poutine.

the spit

When a series of cairns appeared on the Spit at the foot of the city a few years ago, they were a mystery. Tibetan prayer flags, painted rocks, wire sculptures and driftwood lined paths; it was a crazy, hidden garden beside the lake where junk became art and the city seemed very far away. A newspaper located and interviewed the creator, he started building there during a period of grief, drawn to the area because he felt it had healing energy. There's no path to the garden but I think that those who need to find it do. Slowly, over a period of time, others have added their creations until it's grown to this amazing jumble of sculptures, paintings, quotes and all around awesomeness. Something magical this way grows.












On a totally unrelated note, I've decided to start being a baby - a great big baby. Feel like crying? Cry. Feel like laughing? Laugh. Want to say something? Say it. I was talking to a friend on the phone while stuck in the most infuriating traffic jam after a very long day. Her daughter had a complete and total meltdown while we were talking; it came in, took over, and passed in a matter of minutes and it was exactly how I was feeling. By the time we hung up her daughter was over it and onto something completely new, I was still frustrated but pretending I wasn't. What a waste of energy it is this nonsense of 'holding it together'.