lost and found

“In the first half of my life I moved towards all that gave me pleasure. But after the accident, the accident of growing older, I became cautious, preferring the same roads to work, a familiar breakfast, marriage. Because my memory is a limited resource, like gold or uranium, I go back over my life slowly, running fingers over the moments until I can taste them again. Remembering is like running backwards, an art I practiced with a friend from childhood, who says there are just two tragedies in life. Not getting what you want. And getting it.”
- Mike Hoolboom

Don't think twice, it's all right

I give her my heart but she wanted my soul

don't stop

 
Yougottadance. Aslongasthemusicplays. Yougotta dance. Don'teventhinkwhy. Starttothink, yourfeetstop. Yourfeetstop, wegetstuck. Wegetstuck, you'restuck. Sodon'tpayanymind, nomatterhowdumb. Yougottakeepthestep. Yougottalimberup. Yougottaloosenwhatyoubolteddown. Yougottauseallyougot. Weknowyou'retired, tiredandscared. Happenstoeveryone, okay? Justdon'tletyourfeetstop


xo em

your sails

reality x memory

"Memories are what warm you up from the inside. But they're also what tear you apart."

We'll miss you, Mr. Layton

I’m reading Jack Layton’s final words and experiencing a strong reaction towards his powerful last words. Human compassion seems to be rare these days, especially in terms of politics - he will be sorely missed. 

“My friends, love is better than anger. Hope is better than fear. Optimism is better than despair. So let us be loving, hopeful and optimistic. And we’ll change the world.”

I think we should stop for at least a few minutes and think of the courage it takes to be so selfless at the bitter end.

Time to rise up Canada,

em xo

Lovely Sunday

Although there is supposedly a lot of excitement at 5:00am when the St. Lawrence Antique Market  opens, I can't say I was eager enough to witness it.  This large antique market is a mish mash of collectible everything; porcelain and ceramics, sixties furniture, vintage jewelry, rare prints and photos...

The place is stuffed full of opportunities for the wise old man that buys and sells history. I was lucky enough to listen to a bunch of great stories from the vendors about a bunch of their nick nacks. One included this dashing old man speaking about a cigar cutter that had a picture of a young Asian man smoking a cigar and was labelled "The Jap"...
Although I was in search of a nice wooden box, I managed to picked up a vintage Bulova watch circa 1983.
Great retail therapy for the hunter and collector in me...

After the pleasant rummaging I headed to Le Papillion, a large French bistro that is considered to be  Toronto's first crêperie - opened in 1974. I ordered the good old French favorite, French Onion Soup (or rather, a ball of melted Gruyere cheese hovering doughy broth). Mmm, It was perfect since it started to rain once the first spoonful reached my mouth.
There was a loveliness to this place that is most often lost in Toronto. I was fortunate to witness the surprising reaction of rain hailing down and couples and families remaining completely unaware of the violent winds and rain and continuing to enjoy their food with large grins and happy tummies on the patio while it pitter pattered overhead.

Since the weather determined that it would be suiting to catch a film, I wandered over to the Rainbow for a late afternoon matinee. The Help, arguably one of those glossy, obvious rasicm is bad themed movies, surprised me with the infectious raw power and energy from its cast. It redeemed itself by its ability to expand those common stereotypes into more complicated and layered portrayals. There was a lot of sniffing in the audience.

If this day could not have been more perfect, out of pure desire and my minimal willpower, I went to Trimurti for some amazing Indian grub.


Long walk home and passing out in my clothes is all too familiar.
Thanks for the lovely day, miss Minigan!

em xo