Toronto is shabby. Disheveled. Polite. Unassuming.
Did you have an unmarried uncle? His house smelled a little like a tacklebox. He had these weird books that you couldn't stop reading. He had a record player and you loved that Boston album but only at his place. He never told you what to do or judged you. You could put your drink down anywhere.
That's my Toronto. There's a shiny side but it's like when your mom went over and planted some flowers to brighten things up. Or when he wore that suit for your sister's wedding. You knew it wasn't real. It was a concession he made to being in a family of major cities. Then he went home and read his weird books and fell asleep with half a sandwich on the nightstand.
Today we had an Ethiopian feast under a television. The police dragged a woman out of a car in the Credit River. Outside on the sidewalk a man stood for an hour and asked for change. A graffitist tagged our doorway while we were rehearsing. Little coffeehouses and green grocers dealt in cash only. A crossing guard nodded his head and listened to Rush on his little radio bungeed to a light pole. Snowflakes dusted down so few and light that we questioned whether we had really seen them. All continents of people spoke languages I didn't recognize. Above us the sky parted and gold poured down on Hogtown. Papers blew across the street.
I'm going to read one of these weird books. See y'all this week. come as you are. Your fan, JByrd
MAR 22 TUE
The Temple Lounge At Donaleighs
MAR 23 WED
The Cameron House back room
MAR 24 THU
MAR 25 FRI
Grafton Town Hall
MAR 26 SAT