"Shut up!"

"Just shut up,
shut up!"

Things I saw on the ride home this evening:

A woman using the bus as one would a personal office.

She wasn't particularly well-dressed or arrogant beyond her actions, and certainly didn't have an air of entitlement about her until she whipped out her cell phone. Really, sitting there in one of the long rows near the front of the vehicle, she just seemed like an older woman who didn't quite get technology, but was determined to give it a go.

Then again, maybe she just didn't care. With her phone set to handsfree, she proceeded to check her voicemail, carefully copying the important details onto a sheet of paper in her lap. I, like most other passengers on the bus, simply cast furtive yet wide-eyed glances in her direction. Huh? Wha? Doesn't she want privacy? Is she mentally ill?

It wasn't that she needed both hands -- one to write and one to steady the paper, for example -- with the phone resting on her leg or strapped to her arm or what have you. No, she held the speaker-phone in her right hand while scribbling with her left. Anyway, in a situation where one is on the phone and is using both hands for other activities, one usually clamps the phone between one's shoulder and ear. Bad for the neck, what with the bent head and all, but infinitely more courteous in public spaces.

Perhaps she comes from a culture where forcefully drawing everyone around you into your little world by virtue of loudness is totally cool. In other words, I suppose, she's just like the rest of us gabbing away at full volume, sharing our non-urgent cell phone conversations with any stranger within range. People! We created this beast.

"Does this HAVE to be done NOW?" the bus driver yells, to anyone who will listen. The woman is not one of them.

"Get an earpiece!" he offers, strongly, then shakes his head and keeps driving.

TRACK LISTING: Black Eyed Peas, "Shut Up"

"Counting the stars all around."

"Do you know anyone?"

Things PF and I saw while wandering the streets with CW and SAD:

Geoffrey Rush! Ye olde pirate himself!

CW and I saw him first, coming towards us, sporting a small bandage on his forehead. Within seconds, before we could inquire or merely wonder about the head wound, he was posing for a photo with two young men who seemed to appear out of nowhere. Wow, the Film Festival! It's nuts. Anyway, GR soon ducked down the walkway beside The Cumberland, and that was the last we saw of him.

Later, PF and I walked by Monica Bellucci as she stepped out of a car. Wearing a lot of makeup and high-heeled suede boots, she stumbled on the pavement in front of the Lobby Bar (yet another interview location for this year's festival). Everyone -- the Lobby Bouncer, Bellucci's companions and handlers, even PF and I -- lurched toward MB like we were about to save her life. She didn't need us.

"Madonna!" she exclaimed, laughing.

"Madonna!" echoed one of her male friends, and suddenly they were gone.

TRACK LISTING: Bebel Gilberto, "All Around"

[NOTE: The image above was taken through an old View-Master; the still of Rowlf working the camera is from one of the Muppet Movie reels.]

"See the light!"

"Join the herd!"

Things I saw around town this evening:

The TIFF begins!

When I moved to this city, I swore I would attend the Film Festival each year. Things started out with promise, but soon I turned old and cranky, and wanted nothing more than a nine-to-five job and evenings in.

What's more, I suddenly regarded the TIFF process as "a hassle". Getting your festival shit together is like going back to university: swarms of people sitting on the linoleum floor outside the box office as if the area was some sort of Commons, armed with highlighters and the equivalent of a curriculum prospectus, the TIFF Programme Book. Like any good student, you have to make sure your schedule doesn't have any conflicts and choose a set of backup films just in case your first selections fill up before you get to them. Filmgoers hurrying around the downtown core, from screening to screening, remind me of college kids racing to get to class on time. IT IS SERIOUS! But there's also a sense of community, a small thrill that I miss now that I'm no longer a student or a festival-goer.

God, I'll have to look into going next year, won't I?

TRACK LISTING: Felix da Housecat, "Silver Screen"

[NOTE: The image above is a page detail from one of my university textbooks, The Oxford History of World Cinema.]

"Talk about the passion!"

"Talk about the passion!"

Things I saw on my way home this evening:

In the most unexpected of places, a [murmur].

I'd read about [murmur] before, but this was the first time I'd ever stumbled across one of the signs, and I was very happy to see it posted so clearly and so ready for the call. The [murmur] project is a really wonderful idea! It gives both residents and visitors the chance to learn about the city through the stories of its people, as they travel from ear to ear.

TRACK LISTING: R.E.M., "Talk About the Passion" (from the Murmur LP)

"Sharp! Like you pulled me out the pencil sharpener!"

"Bad!
Like that student
in the principal's office!"

Things I saw this morning, while walking with PF to the subway station:

A man in a suit and sunglasses having the following conversation with a friend:

SUIT: Wait, what did you see?
FRIEND: Superbad.
SUIT (highly interested): Oh, yeah!
FRIEND: RIDICULOUS.
SUIT: Huh? It was funny?
FRIEND: REALLY funny. The theater was PACKED, too. Sold out.
SUIT: Huh.
FRIEND: I don't think I passed HazMat, though.
SUIT (quietly, reassuringly): You did.
FRIEND: No, I mean, you only have to get three wrong, you know?

It was at this point that PF and I reached the stairs leading down to the station, losing the conversation in the process. PF and I were unable to catch the guys again, so I told him about the confrontation I'd witnessed last night on the subway.

BLONDE TEENAGE GIRL (acting very "hard"): Hey, guy, watch those elbows!
TEENAGE GIRL WITH ICE CREAM CONE (acting equally "gangster"): What did you say to me?

["She called her GUY?" PF asked me, then burst out laughing.]

BLONDE: Yeah, you're hitting me.
ICE CREAM: Oh, no. Hold up.

(ICE CREAM bites into cone loudly, then launches into counterpoint rant with mouth full.)

Whrrfff thrr frrrhhh gwurrr hurrr msshhhh crunch crunch crunch!

BLONDE'S FRIEND (to BLONDE): Come on, don't do this.

(BLONDE sucks her teeth loudly and continues to glare at ICE CREAM, who has turned her attention back to her own friend.)

JAY (my friend, who is with me in the subway car): There is a surprising amount of testosterone in here.

Ice Cream kept smacking her lips like she was eating, even after she'd finished, then asked her friend, "Isn't it NASTY when there's nothing left in it?" She meant the cone, and her friend silently turned her half-eaten cone outward to show Ice Cream that some Rocky Road or whatever remained. Ice Cream shrugged. "I guess," she sighed, which was the last thing we heard as we got off the train.

Jay said, "That girl is SO Vicky Pollard!" I asked him which one and he replied, "All of them, really." Then I said that I didn't know who Vicky Pollard was so he had to point the character out on the back of a Little Britain DVD package, and I had to agree with what everything he said earlier.

TRACK LISTING: Mystikal, "Danger (Been So Long)"

[NOTE: The model in the image above is the wonderful John Caffery of Kids On TV and he AIN'T NO JOKE. Anyone who ever caught him dancing his ass off at Vazaleen undoubtedly remains in awe of the man.]

"Now I'd rather jump than pay."

"They're gonna book me
anyway!"

Things I saw as I stepped off the bus on this rainy morning:

A thick crowd of people with pursed lips, waiting for the streetcar.

There was a problem on the Spadina-University leg of the north-south subway line during the morning rush hour, which forced many commuters to find alternate routes, including me. The Bathurst car is usually full on a regular day, so on a day involving a service disruption it would inevitably be packed to the gills, and there would definitely be a wait to board. I decided to crane my neck at the gate to check if a car was on its way -- hopefully I would see two or three of them heading towards the station. If not, I'd have to make alternate alternate plans.

I couldn't see any streetcars in the distance, but I did see a squat, goateed man carrying a cooler approaching the gate. He bypassed the station entrance -- where transit fare is paid -- and calmly walked onto the streetcar platform. His nonchalance was somewhat impressive, though I didn't imagine he wouldn't be caught.

Sure enough, a remarkably Barney Fife-ish transit cop walked swiftly over to the man. I shrugged and walked towards the huge crowd of people waiting for the streetcar.

"Excuse me! Excuse me!" the cop was yelling -- at the man with the cooler, I presumed. Yet even after the man with the cooler had stopped in front of the cop, the cop was still yelling. I suddenly realized that the cop was yelling for me, too. Huh?

The cop looked at me and The Cooler sternly. "Did you just enter through the gate?" The Cooler didn't say a word. He just stared, which either means that he was a) playing tough; b) not fluent in English; or c) psycho. I, however, was not any of those things, and I had an alibi, so I provided it.

"I got off the 7," I told the cop, thinking this would be enough.

"You got off the 7?" he (sort of) repeated.

I nodded, my eyes hardening a little. "I got off the 7."

"Where did you get off the 7?" the cop asked.

Is he serious? I pointed to the bus stop. "I got off over there."

The cop didn't dismiss me, turning to face The Cooler instead, who remained silent. The cop beckoned to another transit worker who seemed to emerge from nearby bushes. A spy, maybe? How elaborate a sting! The cop asked his fellow employee if he saw me and/or The Cooler arrive.

"I don't know where she came from," the worker replied, jerking his head in my direction, "but he definitely walked through the gate." It wasn't exactly a vindication for me, but it wasn't an indictment, either, so I took it. For good measure, I gave the transit cop my best "I told you so" glare (which, honestly, wasn't so great). The cop shooed me away with a withering wave of his hand. Where is the satisfaction in that? I guess the cop is just young and eager to do his job -- he wants to do his job properly and as best he can, which I appreciate -- but if he's going to stake out transit offenders, he should probably keep his eyes on the scene.

I glanced back as I walked off. The squat, goateed man was still staring! Yikes. What did he have in that cooler?

TRACK LISTING: Beastie Boys, "Transit Cop"

[NOTE: The image above is a detail from pages 18 and 19 of Feelings between Kids and Grownups (Advanced Learning Concepts, 1974).]

"Strange days have found us."

"Strange days have
tracked us down."

Things I saw this evening on the way home:

Our northbound streetcar easing to a stop beside its southbound counterpart, just above Queen; both streetcars sit in the middle of the road as the drivers step down, dodge traffic, and switch places. Our new driver waves to our old driver as he settles in, adjusts the rearview mirror and pulls away, back on track. I have never seen this kind of exchange happen before but it certainly makes the ride a little more interesting.

Later, on the northbound bus, an old man with a long white beard grins widely and reads his newspaper with a large magnifying glass. No one around him pays any attention; every thought bubble declares, "We see this sort of thing all the time."

TRACK LISTING: The Doors, "Strange Days"

"How do you like your eggs in the morning?"

"Boiled or fried?"
"I'm satisfied!"

Things I saw on Saturday morning:

Our favourite brunch spot, sort of becoming our regular brunch spot.

It's not exactly around the corner or down the street, but since we stumbled into Over Easy on a rainy afternoon last summer, PF and I have returned many times. We've gone by ourselves, we've brought friends along with us, and we always feel like we made the right choice. The atmosphere is comfortable and relaxed, even when the place is packed, and we have never had a bad meal.

There are certainly prettier restaurants with finer food in this city, and we don't shy away from those, but in PF's constantly thwarted quest for house-brewed and, more importantly, unsweetened iced tea, Over Easy is a beacon. Apart from figuring out which dish to have, the choice really isn't that difficult to make.

TRACK LISTING: Dean Martin & Helen O'Connell, "How Do You Like Your Eggs"

"Ooh-ooh ooh-ooh ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh ooh-ooh ooh-ooh, ooh ooh!"

"And that's a
pretty nice
haircut!"

Things I saw in the mirror this afternoon:

A lovely new do, once again by Fantastic Sam, once again in the comfort of JS&A. Yay!

TRACK LISTING: Pavement, "Cut Your Hair"

"You're a life saver, honey."

"I'm a lot braver, too."

Things I saw on my way to work this morning:

A woman I'd never met before, saving my life.

I wish I'd taken her picture! She seemed to be in a bit of a hurry, and I was still slightly dazed from the near-death experience, so all I could manage was a bunch of spaced-out "thank you"s. She was smiling and agreed that drivers so often, so recklessly, attempt to speed past streetcars that have stopped to let passengers on or off. This is not only stupid and thoughtless; it's dangerous. This is why streetcars have signs on the rear that advise the drivers following to stop along with the streetcar, instead of switching lanes and trying to beat the streetcar, so public transit passengers don't have to worry about being mowed down as they step into the road.

It's certainly frustrating to be a driver stuck behind a lumbering streetcar, having to stop on every block even when the lights are green; it's easy to forget courtesy and the rules of the road in that situation, especially if the driver is also in a rush to get somewhere. Unfortunately, that's the way things go if you have no choice but to drive along a streetcar route that doesn't have dedicated TTC lanes.

It's also a passenger's responsibility to make sure that his or her path is clear before stepping into the road, especially when disembarking. One has to wait until the streetcar doors actually open before one can peek out and check for oncoming traffic. I'm usually good with the peeking! I once peered out before getting off the streetcar, only to see a luxury automobile race past. That was the closest I'd come to being hit, which was pretty close, until today.

This morning, I was standing on the steps of the streetcar's back doors, completely occupied by the task of folding my headphones back up into their carrying case. In other words, I wasn't thinking. Like an idiot, as the streetcar pulled up to my stop, I began to step out. The woman beside me gasped and put her arm out to stop me, which was totally confusing until I looked out at the road and saw a car screeching to a halt in front of me. I looked back at the woman -- this lovely, careful, redheaded, middle-aged woman who had no reason other than absolute kindness to help me -- and breathed a sigh of relief. We disembarked with requisite dirty looks shot at the oncoming driver, who did look apologetic, as opposed to oblivious like the last driver who almost killed me. I thanked the woman repeatedly; she nodded and was joined by a friend; and I slipped into my office building with nothing to remember her by. Well, nothing except my life, of course.

TRACK LISTING: Chicago, "Life Saver"

[NOTE: The image above is a page detail from Book of Saints: Part 4, which I picked up (among other titles in this series) from a Dartmouth bookstore's closing sale in the spring of 2005.]

"Gotta run for shelter!"

"Gotta run for shade!"

Things I saw at work today:

The "Out of Order" sign remains! Oh, and today is actually the hottest day of the year. Yesterday was just a WARM-up! hahahahahahahahahahahaha

Seriously, though: the employees are decidely less humorous today. Let's all have lemonade and Cherry Garcia when we get home tonight, okay?

TRACK LISTING: Kool & The Gang, "Too Hot"

"Who loves the sun?"

"Not everyone!"

Things I saw today at work:

Legions of people climbing and descending the stairs of the office building as the elevator remains out of order.

It may just be for the day, but I'm sure many people are wondering why the lift had to cack out on what may very well be the hottest day of the year. It is, after all, a day on which a heat alert has been issued; it's a day that might only be surpassed in terms of temperature and humidity by tomorrow's highs. If the elevator is still out of commission tomorrow, there will be hell to pay! Surely the workers will see to it.

It sort of feels like hell in the stairwell, actually, but it could be much worse. We could be stuck in those stairwells! We could be stuck in the elevator.

TRACK LISTING: The Velvet Underground, "Who Loves the Sun"

"There's a storm on the way."

"There's a storm on the way."

Things I saw through the office windows this afternoon:

Clouds so thick, so grey, and moving at such a pace that it appeared as if the sky was filled with smokestacks.

TRACK LISTING: Gnarls Barkley, "Storm Coming"

"What does the billboard say?"

"Come and play;
come and play."

Things I saw after having lunch with my mother this afternoon:

The tallest people in the world, on what used to be the longest street in the world, doing their best to promote the so-called biggest bookstore in the world.

On the same side of the street, a throng of people march south; with their hoisted placards and raised voices, they draw attention to the fight against sexual abuse, particularly the crimes against children. Only a fool would oppose them. They occasionally address the prime minister directly, though they know he is nowhere near.

My mother, who was born in another country, watches the demonstration thoughtfully. "They can do this here," she remarks, proudly, which makes me proud as well, in many different ways.

TRACK LISTING: Rage Against the Machine, "Freedom"

[NOTE: The photo above highlights two photos by James Karales; the page shown is from a Rolling Stone compilation of articles from the Sixties.]

"Tell me love is real."

"Let me hear you say
the words I want to hear."

Things I saw on a street near the office today:

My little personal mystery solved.

Okay, so it's not exactly a conceptual art piece as I imagined, nor an incomplete promotional poster, but it is a pretty clever marketing campaign. A lot of people in this city seemed to pay attention to it, and I can't imagine that I was the only person who was curious about the origin of the "LOVE IS" project. This fascination may create an audience that is willing to seek out and actually pay to see the film, thereby proving the campaign successful.

Now, why this marketing campaign only hit the streets two years after the film was made (as far as I can tell, anyway), I can't explain. I'm sure this new mystery of mine could be solved if I just performed a simple web search for further information (like, oh I don't know, maybe the film's official release date), but...well...forget that jazz. It's Friday and I am NOT feeling it (ie. I am lazy). Googling is Work, too, people!

TRACK LISTING: Buddy Holly, "Words of Love"

"Though sometimes we'll fight, I won't really care."

"And I know it's gonna be alright
'cause we've got so much
we share."

Things I saw on the streetcar ride home:

White-shirted men and women laid almost bare in the downpour.

At the expense of his own dryness, a young man carefully holds an umbrella over his girlfriend and her cat as they make their way along the sidewalk.

All over the city, words of love wash away, even the ones that tell us that "LOVE IS NEVER ENOUGH."

TRACK LISTING: The Ronettes, "Walking in the Rain"

"Way up in the sky, little darlin'."

"And if you fall
I'll pick you up,
pick you up."

Things I saw this evening at Union Station:

Ghost riders!

TRACK LISTING: Rickie Lee Jones, "The Horses"

[NOTE: The piece featured in the photo above is Max Streicher's "Quadriga", installed as part of the Luminato festival's Floating Artworks exhibit.]

"Make you come home early."

"Make you stay out
all night long."

Things I saw on the way to meet PF for dinner:

Further proclamations.

A few poles down from where I scrawled my own response, someone has followed the "LOVE IS" lead by writing, "your girlfriend." There is a second "LOVE IS" poster pasted directly below, in which someone mentions something about a summer day.

One large block later, on the northeast corner of King and Spadina, someone has filled the white spaces with now-smeared burgundy lipstick. Four "LOVE IS" posters wrap around this pole; all four feature the same smudged shade. One of the replies appears to be "STUPID." Another reads, "A WASTE OF TIME." The other two are lost forever.

Less than twenty feet away, someone has completed one of the posters in pencil:

LOVE IS
LOVE.

TRACK LISTING: Al Green, "Love and Happiness"

"Fighting with the beast!"

"No justice, no peace!"

Things we saw on the way home from the grocery store this morning:

A man and a woman, standing on the sidewalk across from our building, staring at the cops pulling people over for speeding. (We live right in the heart of a speed trap. Police cruisers in our alley, waiting for offenders, are not an uncommon sight.)

The woman is shaking her head and yelling. The man is nodding. "Can you believe this?" she asks him.

"All day long we see them!" she cries. "Raking in the cash! It's a racket!"

The man says something inaudible. The woman replies, "They're like the Gestapo!"

TRACK LISTING: Ice Cube, "The Predator"

"It's written on the wind."

"It's everywhere I go!"

Things I saw in the city today:

Declarations of love decorating the downtown core.

This must be an art project, right? Why else would all these "LOVE IS" posters be pasted on poles along public sidewalks, with white spaces ready and waiting for people to fill in the blank?

On Bathurst, just north of Queen, one poster featured the answer "HOT SEX" (complete with X-rated illustration); another was graced with "misunderstood", scrawled on an angle at the bottom right-hand corner of the box.

If it's not an art project, then I suppose that a lot of incomplete promotional posters have been defaced. But if it is, then it just makes me love this city a little more.

TRACK LISTING: The Troggs, "Love Is All Around"