Toronto, The Wizard's Domain

It was a particularly odd time we arrived in Toronto. The city was much bigger than Ottawa. But it had that same commercial peculiarity. I had heard that Montreal was the cultural hub of Canada and Toronto was the commercial one. That they tried to make Toronto into the New York City of Canada, but the attempt would forever be a failure. As we got off the train, we were immediately pulled into a mob of charging meatheads on their way to the Thanksgiving Football spectacle. As Mark put it, a bunch of off-duty servicemen exclaiming, "I'm gonna eat a hot dog. Watch some football. Ah man, this is going to be AWEsome!"

One of our big regrets about Toronto is that we did not take any pictures. I had just run out of batteries and never found a place to get more batteries. So i kept seeing these amazing photo opportunities, things i really wanted to remember, but i have no pictures from Toronto. For instance, as we were walking with this mob of Football fans, we went through this tunnel. A man was playing guitar powered by a small amp. I remember clearly that the music he was playing was so clean with the acoustics of that tunnel. It sounded like we were being herded through dream territory, not in that mushy "dream" quasi-exquisite sense. I mean, truly ethereal, surreal. It was like suddenly being ripped from a city into a dark tunnel with a bunch of men who were talking about beer and hot dogs suddenly being silenced. And this guy was playing in the middle of the mob, taking quarters, but no one seemed to notice. Fuck, maybe it's better i don't have a picture. Something about it struck me as, well not sad, but enervating--like being physically drained.

As we emerged on the other side of the tunnel, the football mob split up with up with us and this beautiful dark-skinned girl approached us and asked, "Can i help you find anything?"

We thought it was sort of strange that a busy, public city street had a concierge, but she explained that she was working for some advocacy group and we didn't look like the mob, so she could only assume we were part of the group she was looking for. Plus, she saw our backpacks and noticed we were looking around, all lost like. She had a really friendly smile. We told her we were looking for the Spadina line and she pointed it out. We also asked her about nightlife and she told us of some bars. We asked her if she wanted to come meet us later, but she explained she was going to be guiding this group around all night. We told her she should take them to the bar, and she said she would try, with a flirtatious shaking of the head, as if to say, "oh, you kids." She gave a thick-toothed smile as we walked away and we felt good. It was like meeting a shepherd on the side of the mountain, she just pointed the way and we were on our merry way.

Mark commented on how dumb the architecture in Toronto was. He kept looking at the buildings and saying, "I can't even take a picture. It just looks so dumb." I guess it was dumb then.



For some odd reason, we decided to walk through Toronto as well. i guess it was Mark, that he just starts walking and you just have to follow. It's really interesting, because then you get to see that much more of the city. So that's how we found out that Toronto is a tall city with boring buildings and a huge homeless population that has thousands of embankments on its near-deserted Thanksgiving-vacant streets. I got to really like walking hanging out with Mark, because it is the most personal way to travel. I think it was Holderlin that walked across the entirety of Germany because he wanted to write a poem about every river. It's pretty fascinating to experience a place by continually walking. I remember when i was in Prague for a study abroad program which was only three weeks long. I stayed for three extra days and spent all my time walking around. I got to see a whole lot more that way, a whole mess of images. I sketched a lot in that time too. Mark had told me he in some leadership class he was determined to be some quiet bystander, a passive-aggressive leader. Not so aggressive that he intimidated others. Or so passive that he wasn't a leader. But he would remain quiet, complicit, until he saw something wrong, then he'd question, "Well, do you have a better idea?" And if the idea was stupid, he'd say, "that's stupid. You need to come up with something better." Through this kind of leadership, he was determined to be the one who had the most cooperative ideas. The center shape in the Venn Diagram, that's Mark. And that's why i was always following him around, i certainly didn't have a better idea.

We finally reached the Queen's Park at the University of Toronto where we called Tony for the first time to see where he lived. We actually didn't know where we were as we had just been walking around, but he informed us we were just a few blocks from his house! Then he gave some of the strangest directions i've ever had. "Do you see a horse statue, i mean a man on horse?" I said yes. "Go to the head of the statue and face the way that the horse is facing. There will be several paths. A north path, a west path, you want to take the northwesterly path. Take that for maybe 800 feet, then you want to turn left. Go down the street to Bloor, no Dundas, well, i forget the street. But look, what you want to do is take a left and head on the edge of the fence until you see the skyline through the trees, from there you'll look for a blinking red light at an intersection..." These may have been the most difficult instructions i'd ever received. I felt like I was on a scavenger hunt. I told him we got it, but then i realized i had not idea so I asked him again. "Alright, look, i'll find you. Start walking. Look for the guy in the wizard's cap." This sounded a bit odd, but what the hell.

After the directions that sounded like Olmec's guiding us through the hidden temple, i should have been surprised to see a dude with a big-ass wizard's hat with stars on it, looking like Mickey Mouse from Fantasia approach us. Tell us about the endless supply of alcohol and the thrice spiced ham and turkey he's prepared. The guy's a couchsurfing fanatic. He's been turned on to it since he quit his job in June, on the whim that he and this German stranger would bike from Toronto to Vancouver staying at stranger's houses the whole way. He had such a killer time, he stayed three extra weeks in Vancouver. When we arrived, we were in the midst of a couchsurfing bramble. Even friends from his Vancouver debacle had come to visit.

His roommate was a scratch-voiced Indian guy named Matt. He had a really extroverted sensibility, yelling out punchlines. He reminded me of a dude from Entourage, complete with popped collar. He was pretty hilarious though. He immediately set to telling us about his war with a nearby squirrel who chased him down every time he stepped outside alone. He was talking, "you know, usually they won't do anything. But this squirrel's mad. He's after me, man. When i'm out there alone, he stares right at me. it's like he knows just who i am. Then i have to run to my car just to get away. I don't know what that mother fucker's gonna do if he gets his hands on me." At the end of the story, we heard an acorn drop on the roof. A sign or a signal?



Tony had to get some last minute supplies for the festivities of the night and the only place open would be in nearby Chinatown. Mark and I opted to go as well, along with Jen-- a friend from Vancouver. Apparently, Toronto's Chinatown is renowned for being so busy you walk on heels as your heels are walked on. And even though it was the only place with open stores that day, it was not that busy. But it was busy enough. There were people all over the place. A guy was feeding pure sugar cane stalks into a grinder that made fresh pure sugar juice. I thought the irony was thick (me being in my anti-sugar crusade) to get the pure, uncut kinda stuff. Like a DEA agent saying, "well, if it's not cut, i gotta see what i'm up against, really" So i did it. And it was good for three sips then it was what you'd expect. Take two cups of refined sugar and two cups of water and suck it through a straw. I drank half the cup though. I thought i'd be in a coma.

We went into a crowded chinese market. As Tony and Jen split from Me and Mark to pick up supplies we just sort of walked around. I got some raw peanuts to eat on the train then Mark tapped me on the shoulder, "you've gotta see this." At the back of the store was a fresh seafood section. Everyone's seen the lobsters in the tank at a fancy grocery store. But there was also this big vat of live crabs. And women with tongs were picking up the crabs, inspecting them, then dropping the suckers back in the vat. I was reminded of the Quebec City conversation about animal treatment and the "holocaust" and i shuddered. As two chinese women bickered, dropped a crab back in its cage, it's leg dismembered, lost among squirming arms. There were probably a thousand crabs in the barrel. All i wanted to do was take a video so i wouldn't forget. So far, it's been hard not to remember.

Now, now. Fair reader. Don't take this as a pure abolishment of meat-eating. I am for principled meat-eating. So long as the animal is respected and "meat' is treated with integrity, i'll condone the ethics of the food chain. But that. THAT! was just unspeakable. I couldn't wrap my head around it. ANd people so casual about selection. It just seemed sociopathic. I don't get it sometimes, how empathy can be chosen. In a case like that, it seemed obvious, but i guess not. Sometimes, it doesn't matter if an arm falls off. It just happens. So it goes. Anyway, i bought those peanuts anyway. Every time i put one in my mouth i got sick to my stomach. I littered them from the moving train. A poor alms for the dying crabs in Toronto. So well...

Tony was still wearing his Merlin cap, so he was easy to spot. I offered to pay for his groceries to give thanks for the hospitality. Really, it wasn't a fair trade. As i was to find out later, he was going to lay it on us real thick with booze and food, more than could be imagined. Buying some orange juice and eggs just seemed facetious, but then, he didn't seem to mind.

We got back to the house as some people were showing up, Tony's co-worker or his cousin or something. I don't quite remember. But it was a couple. They brought these potatoes. "An old Irish recipe.' It was amazing. I don't know what he put in the mother fucker, fennel or something, but it made the mouth climb heights. I thought i'd lose it right then and there. I had to grip something. Well, not really. But they were good!

Another girl that was there was a quiet woman named Carla. She was wearing a top that more like a corset and accented her huge tits to the nth degree. Her eyes were like large snow peas and her skin was dark as a dress. She was a beautiful Mexican woman; i couldn't even talk to her.

The boys had been obsessing over the turkey, taking it out every thirty minutes or so to re-marinade thing and lamenting that they did not stuff it with a beer can to make that famous beer can chicken that every frat boy mythologizes. When they brought it out though, it looked spectacular. A real work of art. I don't even eat meat, but the sheer smell reminded me of every cut or piece i'd ever had. SO powerful, in fact, mark caved. It took much convincing on their part, but he fell into gear and took a few bites. Of the pork too. The pork had been darkened with some kind of brown sugar marinade that crystallized on the outside and made it seem tangy and burnt, as if it had been on an open fire. Hell, that looked good too. And according to everyone it was.

The platters set before us, an enormous buffet alotted giant slices of everything. There were potatoes, meat, salads, breads, beers, wines, liquors, pates, sauces, gravies, and vegetables like corn, sweet potatoes, green beans and beans too. I don't know what this means, but i had written it down on a piece of paper after the dinner. I was drunk, remember; i suppose it means there was a lot of food: "If tens of thousands of us had shown up, engorged until we burst into flames, combusted from exhaustion, eaten until explosion. Our bodies melting juices cover the food and more and more grows out, wax molds of fat colossus combat and began again hot enough to burn paper." Sounds like a surrealist nightmare. But the dinner was great.

When Tony's sister dropped by the entire atmosphere of the night changed. She was like no one i have ever met. Fierce, loud and filling. She filled the room with her presence. Stepped in and demanded, very quickly, each of our names to memorize. She made a quip about how impossible it was to remember names, then went one by one--as a schoolteacher--in order to get it right. She threw off her coat and made some comments about being starved, traffic, the weather, the day today, the footballers downtown. It was rockets firing off from her synapses, her mind exploding all geography at once. People were dumbfounded, no room to speak. Competition was impossible. It was all solved. She took it over.

She was a fascinating woman. Immediately engaging every single person at the table in individual interests. She addressed Carla calling her an absolutely beautiful Mexican woman. She mentioned she had made a series of feminist paintings about woman considered Oriental, from South America, Asia and Africa, exhibiting their beauty to their fullest potential. I believe she made arrangements to paint Carla at her next availability. This conversation led into a more in-depth conversation about sexuality. The most feminist conversation i'd ever witnessed. They all started talking aggressively, energetically about kink. It was interesting, beautiful. Apparently Jen was a slice from the scandalous kinky pie in whatever dungeon it was baked. She talked about lesbian adventures and videos and stuff. They all made mentions of S&M clubs. The wonder.

"You get this impression of it being dangerous, because it's all leather, but it's the safest environment ever. Everyone asking, 'Are you okay?' Carla began talking about her uniform, 3 inch high stilettos and corset-type things that were more exhibitive than her current garb. She made an exasperated expression, feigned disbelief, over how men will pay $5000 in one night, every week, to have someone walk on them in those shoes. She liked the dilettante look, a leather teddy with the tits cut out, "Everyone's got a fetish." She also liked salsa dancing.

Which prompted Ayesha, Tony's sister, to talk about the Portuguese club she danced at. "It was a pretentious club, a dress-up club. I don't like pretentious people, but i do like people who dress well and dance. Give me a few drinks. I'll be a diva." She talked about her recent experience, being asked to dance by a white guy at the club, looked tall and dumb. "It was like dancing with the stars. He had me twirling, twisting, spinning. It was the time of my life."

In order to engage everyone else, they began to talk about other things. One thing i found interesting was that Canada had begun issuing these government mandated health checks, to ensure its citizens remained in health. They gave tax benefits to those that followed through. That seemed to make a lot of sense, a system of positive reinforcement in order to sustain healthcare. Rather than punishing people with higher taxes for not going, they would give them tax breaks for going. It seemed socially progressive enough to socialize healthcare, but geez man, that's crazy awesome. Sorry for gettin' all Marxy on ya. It just seemed interesting.

But the conversation seemed to recede eventually back into feminine wiles.

"I like to be tied up."

"Girrrrrrrrrl"

To avert an orgasmic catastrophe for the Thanksgiving night, having woman erecting men to higher states of unmanageably arousing conversation; Tony decided to redirect the entire crew to the porch for drinks. Almost as soon as we did this, A British guy and a Russian girl showed up. They were Tony's friends, Alaina and Richard. They seemed splendidly nice and offered to get us stoned. Everyone took part but me. Then everyone was stoned and eating more meat. If this wasn't Bacchae then i don't know what fuck is. But it was fun. A rich night.

Alaina and Richard turned out to be splendid people. Alaina talked with the childish amusement of a wonderer, gesticulating with her hands when she spoke and covering her mouth when she laughed after various statements. Her boyfriend remained subdued in quiet reticence taking it all in, panged a bit by shyness but not bothered--an observer. She explained to me the amazing quality of couchsurfing, "It's making a move in consciousness now," she let her gaze slip to the ol' horizon glance, "It's a first step for people to be moving away from isolation and separateness and coming to realize all are one!" She practically yelled out. I hadn't realized what an amazing truth this was until that night. The hospitality we had received from strangers, pure, absolute strangers was revelatory. Everyone was so nice, so welcoming--and their was a whole world waiting to be so generous. Why be greedy when there's so much compassion. Her eyes spoke wonders.

As we all got drunker, Tony disappeared for a second. He came back into the room, for the first time, not donning the wizard's cap. "Turn off the music. Turn off the lights. I have to show everybody something." We complied. I immediately thought we would all be sodomized by infuriated trolls or munchkins. AH, a catch! but NO! He lit up some off these glowing plastic balls and put on this magnificent juggling display. It was very trippy, there's something about spinning colors then never fails to capture the appreciation of our focuses. An Israeli guy once said to me, "there are two things which people will never cease to be amazed by: fireworks and puppies." I think i found number three.

After the demonstration, Alaina begged Richard to show off some of his own juggling. I didn't participate in this, something he obviously did not want to do, until i learned he taught Tony! Then i was like, "Yeah, man. You kinda have to." he claimed to be able to do this trick, though i can't remember what it was called exactly i remember that we kept counting "ONE...TWO...THREE...FOUR" But then he kept messing it up and getting really frustrated because we were distracting him. Then his girlfriend would assure him it was alright and that we did not care, but the anticipation in her voice was vexing. It went on like that three or four times, to the point where he was yelling at her, "I DON'T WANT TO DO IT, OKAY." And she was convincing him, "You're doing great, don't worry about it. You're doing amazing." But he felt like she was condescending, like it was pity. Until that point, i had been doing the same thing as well. But i cut it out. Then the room was silent. The air was thick as sheets, really. He could feel it. We could feel it. We had shut up. He had to do it this time. And you know what, he fucking did it. It's funny, because for the "ONE...TWO....THREE.....FOUR" We were just nodding our heads, all in excitement. Could hear a mouse squeak, and all of us with gawking smiles, nodding until it just happened then we were covered in ecstasy. And he was just relieved to get off the stage. Though, you could tell, he enjoys the publicity. Even though a part of him hates it too.

In case you don't know what juggling is, it is awesome:



At that point, the night was winding down, but the meat was not even close to being done. Alaina and Richard left. Tony's sister had long gone along with Jen and Carla. Jen was minutes away from catching her flight back to Vancouver (which left at midnight for some reason--bad time to leave). Another one of Tony's roommates came back. He was a DJ and actually looked A LOT like DJ Shadow, which i thought interesting. I think his name was DJ Brian, or something boring like that, though.



We were invited to go out to this bar, so we did. It was strange, because i felt like we were scrutinized from the beginning. Something about DJ Brian's general take on us didn't sit right. It was also strange because the whole time we were at this bar, Matt and DJ Brian were playing an invisible game of chess. I couldn't tell if it was real, and they were so good that they had the elements of the chessboard memorized to the point where they didn't need pieces or a board, just finger movements to show what was happening. Or the more realistic hypothesis, they were doing it to be ironic and weird. Either situation is weird, but in one they're super-geniuses, in the other they're just kooky.

I really hit them the wrong way when i tried to explain my Dinosaur theory, about how the dinosaur bones that we take for granted as a prior species may have just been the scaffolding of the last generation of humanity's automobiles. And it's a never-ending cycle of apocalypse from global warming disasters from these automobiles that lead to a devastation where nothing but their shells remain. Then the next generation mythologizes the automobiles to the status of Dinosaur, mythological beast with a penchant for austerity. Of course, it's just an irony. It's all aesthetic. There's too much theme for it to be real History. But it's interesting. And these guys couldn't stand it. They kept on cutting me off, "What are you saying? Dinosaurs are automobiles. You can't ride a dinosaur." "There were no dinosaurs." "So they had cars, instead." Purposefully trying to jilt the idea. The thing is, they could see the irony, they just chose to ignore it. Ah well, fuck it.

At the end of the night, Tony told us a hilarious story, the content's of which i can not remember now.

We got up early the next morning, found a shop to buy some supplies for our three day journey into the vast abyss of Western Canada and were off. Like clockwork, waving Tony's wizard's hat to the wayside as we made our way for the cornfields of tomorrow. Goodbye.