Early Sunday afternoon Nick Cushing came in from Hamilton
and visiting me was one of the rounds he made. He brought with him a copy of
the video he shot of my performance at the Smiling Buddha on June 3. He also
brought his lunch in the form of a couple of foul smelling slices from 2 4 1
Pizza. I opened the window to let some air in and then opened the fridge and
gave him one of the cans of Zywiec that he’d left here on June 3rd.
He said that I could drink the other so I did.
We chatted about various topics.
He told me that his grandfather had been a Winnipeg cop and that policemen had
to buy their guns and so usually only sergeants had them. That sounds like a
better idea to me. I think Toronto fuzz are issued their guns now and don’t
have to pay for them but frontline Toronto police officers should be like
London Bobbies and not have guns at all. In London, when faced with a situation
that requires guns they have to call in a special unit who are experts in
firearms and are very stingy about using them. London cops shot and killed one
person over a four-year period while during two years of that time Toronto cops
killed fifteen.
Nick left a little before 16:30
and so about half an hour later I headed out for my bike ride. This was the day
of the Gay Pride parade and though the parade had already passed Bloor Street
and probably was finished they still had it closed off from Bay until Church.
After asking though I found out that it was okay to ride my bike through, so I
did.
Normally I only have to use the
washroom on my way back, but the beer I drank with Nick seemed to throw my
bladder off balance, so I had to stop at the Court Jester at Pape Avenue to pee
on my way out.
Riding up Woodbine was a big
boned woman who looked like she was dressed for tennis. Everything she had on
was white, including her sun visor. She was coughing when she passed me and
really putting a lot of effort into it. I passed her a few times but she jumped
back ahead in odd places like when I was putting distance between myself and
the back of a bus. She followed me across the bridge over Taylor Creek and
passed me again on the other side. She looked like she was going to have a
heart attack. There was too much fast traffic on O’Connor for me to edge out
and pass her again before she turned right on St. Clair. I went left and rode
east along St Clair and then east on Parkview Hill Crescent until Alder Rd and
followed that to its inevitable dead end. Every street that turns off Parkview
Hill Crescent is a cul de sac.
On the way home I went down Yonge
Street. There were still variously rainbow clad stragglers walking around and
lots of music on some of the closed off side streets but Yonge street was
pretty empty except for one lonely yellow balloon dancing tiredly in the middle
of the road.
I took College home without too
much competition.
No comments:
Post a Comment