Tuff Turf

The memories of yesterday are certain to reside safely in the neurological banks of my mind for years to come, Gentle Reader, as its events were so profoundly spectacular that they are surely there tattooed forever. 

I awoke after sleeping in until mid morning with two things on my mind. One was a strong desire for coffee and the other was the knowledge that later that day I would be attending the musical Nirvana that was the Toronto Urban Roots Festival. 

My gracious hosts and I made haste to a delightful little bakery down the street where my thirst for dark coffee was quenched, and eggs and toast where ingested. 

Soon after Mr. Harriman and I set out to meet Ms. Moira (hereinafter known as Wolf Totem) on a bridge on Bathurst Street just outside of historic Fort York Garrison Common, the site of our festival. 

The following is taken from the festival's website:

"Built in 1793, Fort York National Historic Site is the birthplace of urban Toronto. It is best known as the location where the Battle of York came to its violent climax in 1813 during the War of 1812."

Sorry about that Canada. 

I believe, Gentle Reader, that I may have been on the verge of a serious coronary incident as my little heart of hearts went a-thumpitty-thump-thump and a-pittery-pat-pat in a flutter of ecstatic anticipation.

We met Wolf Totem, and her merry band of flask wielding gypsy starlets, and headed for the gates. 

Soon I was inside with a frosty beverage in hand, enjoying the sounds and stage presence of a woman I've longed to see in person for a great majority of my adult life.

Jenny Lewis, the goddess herself, and her talented band played a heart-wrenchingly beautiful set that had me swaying more than I would again that day and brought more than a few tears of jubilation to the eyes of my compatriots.

Her set included songs new and old, and even dipped into the Rilo Kiley back catalogue with gems such as the brilliant "Silver Lining." Perhaps my favorite part of her set was when she stripped the band down into a chorus of background singers, arm around arm around a single microphone, and began to strum the opening chords of "Acid Tounge" behind her own. 

After, I opted for something completely different and headed for the east stage. 

Gogol Bordello wowed the TURF crowd with a wildly engaging stage performance. The "gypsy punks" thrilled spectators with and incrediably energetic stage show that included seemingly inhuman leeps and marches around stage, and repeatingly splashing the gloriously willing crowd with heaping helpings of red wine. 

Next it was off to see my own personal Jesus, Jeff Tweedy. 

 

I'm afraid that I cannot, at this time Gentle Reader, put into words how immensely I enjoyed his performance.

I was very lucky to end the evening listening to music I would never have imagined I would see performed live five years ago, Nuetral Milk Hotel. This band left me nearly as flabbergasted as Mr. Tweedy's performance did. It again is hard, Gentle Reader, to put down my appreciation of their generous performance in words. All I can say is,

"I LOVE YOU JESUUSSSS CHRIIIHIHIIIST!"

It all seems like a mystical musical dream to me now Gentle Reader. I'm not even certain if it was really real (though the pictures on my iPhone seem to indicate that it was) or some amazing unconscious delirium. 

I'll see you in the cyber salons of the future Gentle Reader. 

Courage, 

-Z

Canadian Forth of July

I've landed safely, Gentle Reader, in the great northern land known as Canadia! Homeland of (in order of awesomeness from last to first) Ryan Gosling, Neil Young, and Rick Danko. The locals here are a lovely people. Courteous, outgoing, and helpful. This might be a cliche or a generalization, but the Canadians, at least of the Torontonian variety, are just plain nice. 

Since last we checked in I've had memorable experiences. I was greeted at the airport by the extra-ordinarily lovely and talented Katherine Wihry. From there she took me to the home she shares with her husband, the incomparably intelligent and generous science fiction writer Josh Harriman. We exchanged pleasantries and made up for lost time, and headed to a contagiously charming outdoor patio cafe known as 3 Speed. 

The next day I shared sushi on Queen Street West with Band afficianado Hilary Grace and my own band mate Moira O'Connell. I also met up with my old friend who I'd never met Sarah Francis. Oddly, we'd been Facebook friends in the past but never actually met in person. Now we're bffs! 

After an appointment in the city Katherine met me and we strolled through town shopping and seeing the sites. Our stroll included a jaunt through Chinatown. 

And a trip to this lovely smelling place:

I then jumped on this thing and headed back to the temporary abode.

This streetcar was not named desire but it did prove to be an enjoyable mode of transportation. 

Soon Josh returned home from a day of work and we headed off to High Park for a performance of "Titus Andronicus" by William Shakespeare.

This play, I must warn you Gentle Reader, was not for the faint of heart. To make a rather crude comparison I would describe it as a mixture of a more traditional Shakespearian play and a Quentin Tarantino film. A lot of blood letting, rape, and child eating. Needless to say I enjoyed it immensely.

Then, today, the amazing happened. Earlier than I expected on this whirlwind tour I found myself, brace yourself Gentle Reader, on a boat.

 

We navigated the waters of the awe inspiring Lake Ontario and brunched on the majestic Centre Island. This is the vessel that brought us there:

Centre is an unconscionably beautiful plot surrounded on all sides by the soothing sounds of Lake Ontario. 

This was the view from the table on which we picknicked:

Tomorrow is a new day Gentle Reader, and I'm very excited about what's in store.

I will see you in the cyber salons of the future.

Courage, 

-Z

On a Train, On a Plane.

Greetings Gentle Reader, 

I've touched down in cloudy Detroit, Michigan after a terrifyingly bumpy and noisy flight. Prior to taking off it sounded like the pit crew was changing a tire with a hurricane. I'm sorry to say, Gentle Reader, that there was also turbulence throughout the flight and the landing was a bit sketchy too. But now I'm safe and sound and on the ground in Detroit awaiting my final flight of the day into Toronto. 

Since last I've posted I've also ridden a train. 

Thus completing the Plane, Train, and Automobile trifecta early on in my travels. 

                (This is the Scoundrel)

I also had the tremendous honor of spending the previous afternoon/evening in Boston with the glamorous Rachel Wentworth and the indomitable Scott Zadakis. 

Throughout the course of the day I saw the birthplace of the telephone,

And Jellyfish! 

I also got this tremendous book recommendation from Rachel. 

I read the first forty pages on my morning flight and it kept me occupied through the turbulence. I feel uniquely bonded with this book already. 

We had a really great time. Is was a lovely  afternoon in Beacon Hill and I'm glad that I got to spend my last pre-flight evening with these two great friends. 

From the airport bar I head to gate A61 which will take me to Toronto. 

Fare thee well America, and have a great 4th of July.

I'm off to Canada!

Courage, 

-Z

On a Bus

Well, it was a bitter sweet send off for old Z Gentle Reader. Boy what a fine time did I have galavanting around Orono one last time before my great adventure. Drinks were imbibed, friends were chuckled with, and song was in the air. But alas, the USMNT did not prevale in their efforts in this year's round of 16. 

On the bright side I got to watch the game on this impressive projector screen whilst sampling a few of Black Bear Brewery's finest ales. It was certainly warm in the pub I must say. I'm not sure if it was the collective rising blood pressure of the viewers, or the fact that I was sitting directly in sunlight, but I felt like I was in the Manous of Orono! 

Good play all around to the American boys in this year's tournement, and congratulations to the Belgians on an impressive victory yesterday and for bringing such fine beer, waffles, and chocolate into our world. 

Now, Gentle Reader, I am on a bus. 

And as it pulls out of the Union Street station I bid God's speed to you and your July endeavors. I trust you do the same for me. 

I'll see you in the cyber salons of the future. 

Courage, 

-Z

Into the Willies

What a wonderful vacation it's been so far, Gentle Reader, and I haven't even left my home state! But I will soon be off to see what this continent has to offer and, as a warm-up, I spent two lovely nights in lake country with these charming people:

I've also managed to aquire a fine piece of work by my favorite living artist, Jim Toner. 

I do not yet know the extent of the adventures I will have, Gentle Reader, as I navigate the urban domains and wild back countries of North America. But you can be certain that I will update this forum with news of my escapades as frequently as the cyber gods allow.

From here I take a bus to Boston on Wednesday, then fly to the wonderful land known as (T)oron(t)o on Thursday. I've got some tricky connections to make, but feel that with a bit of luck, and an airport cocktail or two, I shall safely reach my Canadian destination. One thing we can both be certain of is that the historical conquests documented above will become the stuff of legend, and the folklore of tomorrow. 

Farewell for now Gentle Reader. I will see you in the cyber salons of the future.

-Z

Be Crumbled

Be crumbled.
So wild flowers will come up where you are.
You have been stony for too many years.
Try something different.
Surrender.


          -Rumi

This is the Nonsense of Love

I.

Our kiss is a secret handshake, a password.

We love like spies, like bruised prize fighters,


like children building tree houses.

Our love is serious business.


One look from you and my spine


reincarnates as kite string.

When I hesitate to hold your hand,


it is because to know is to be responsible for knowing.

II.


There is no clean way to enter

the heavy machinery of the heart.

Just jagged cutthroat questions.


Just the glitter and blood production.

III.


The truth is this:


My love for you is the only empire

I will ever build.

When it falls,

as all empires do,


my career in empire building will be over.

I will retreat to an island.


I will dabble in the vacation-hut industry.


I will skulk about the private libraries and public parks.

I will fold the clean clothes.

I will wash the dishes.

I will never again dream of having the whole world.

- Mindy Nettifee