Into the Mist, To the Land of the Wolf

The journey continues, Gentle Reader, as does the wonder and excitement.

Since getting my bearings on the fact that the Toronto Urban Roots Festival was a reality, and one which I was present for, my Canadian experience has not slowed down nor lacked fun and adventure. 

To wind down from the festival on Sunday, on Monday Mr. Harriman and I took to the beaches of Lake Ontario with our books. I'm about 300 pages into "The Art of Fielding" currently and am continuing to enjoy it thoroughly. I would certainly recommend it to you Gentle Reader, as I know that you like I are very fond of an incrediably good book. 

The beach itself was gorgeous

and as you can see not very busy on this first business day of the week. A gentle mist settled in and for a moment I thought it would carry me away, Gentle Reader, as if I had arrived through this journey in a literal state of grace. 

Later Monday evening Mr. Harriman made Katherine and I dinner and we dined on two of his world famous pizza pies. We paired them with a delectable red and enjoyed a delicious white for desert. 

The next day I was off to the very impressive Art Gallery of Ontario where I had the opportunity to enjoy some of the finest works of art that Toronto has to offer. 

I was told by the gentleman I purchased my admittance from that photography was allowed in all regions of the museum save for the Francis Bacon and Henry Moore exhibit, entitled "Terror and Beauty." I relished the opportunity to share some of the fine canvases I witnessed with you Gentle Reader, and so took this good man up on his offer. Below is some of what I saw.

(This piece was called "The Young Arcadians" and was particularly enjoyable to me as it seemed to forshadow the delightful events I hoped would take place later that evening. I was not let down Gentle Reader.)

(Brace yourself, Gentle Reader, as we are taking turn toward the contempoary)

As mentioned above I was unable to take any photos inside the Bacon/Moore exhibit, but you can rest assured that is was exquisite. 

After a day on the town alone, I returned to my temporary abode and my hosts and I set out to the pub to take in the Brazil v. Germany game. I was once again able view a World Cup game on a transfixingly wonderful large scale projection screen. 

Though the game was not a close one, it was still an enjoyable experience. I can also say that the awe experienced by soccer fans that day, as Germany trounced Brazil, seems fitting as I have been experience nothing short of just that as I've made my way along this journey so far. 

After the game I grasped an opportunity that I believed would be one of the absolute highlights my entire trip. 

I ventured to the home of the Wolf. 

I assure you Gentle Reader that nothing about my visit was "sinful" but that it was, contrarily, a miraculous occasion. I was lucky to be greeted not only by Wolf Totem herself, but also by the entire merry band of flask wielding gypsy starlets. Which included of course, Wolf, Band afficianado Hillary Grace, noted filmmaker Jessica Jerome, and my old BFF, the talented singer and guitarist Sarah Francis. We passed the night away imbibing spirits, strumming guitars, and singing songs. I was particularly taken when Wolf and Miss Francis would play a number or two as a duo. This was a truly charming musical experience. Later in the evening Wolf Totem treated us to a recitation of some of her own original poems. They were tremendous and we waited with baited breath on each additional syllable and for each new selection to be made.

In the fall Wolf and Miss Francis are going to visit my homeland and we are all going to record a Long Play together. Can't Hardly Wait!

I am saddened to say, Gentle Reader, that tomorrow I will have to bid a fond farewell to my gracious hosts. I can not relay how gracious they have been and how grateful I am for their hospitality.

But a car is coming at 3:30am, Gentle Reader, to whisk me away to the airport once again. And at my back I always hear time's winged chariot hurrying near. 

As my journey on this continent concludes and my travels continue westward, I must express my earnest and heartfelt gratitude to this wonderful city. Thank you Toronto. For the experiences you have afforded me, the memories you have given me, and for all of the dear people I've encountered along the way.

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

Courage,

-Z

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