Wipe out!

            On Tuesday morning I broke my E string during song practice but I still had one extra. I was able to change it with more speed and less difficulty than the B string I broke last week, but I had to only do the first verses and choruses of some songs in order to make up for lost time.

            My ear was feeling a bit plugged so a little later that morning I put my ear syringe in a pot on the stove with some water to boil and sterilize it. Then I went to do some work on my computer. After a while I went out to the kitchen to do something and saw that I’d forgotten about the syringe and all the water had boiled down. This happened to me a couple of years ago and back then it totally ruined the syringe, but this time I caught it just as a little of the rubber was starting to melt. The syringe didn’t look very good but it was still functional.

            At around noon I sent my review of Shab-e She’r to Bänoo Zan and in the early afternoon she messaged me that she’d sent it to Takatsu, the featured poet that I’d thought was very good. I asked if she’d sent it to Bunny Iskov as well but I was not surprised when she answered “No”. I inquired as to whether it was because I’d given Bunny a negative review and she confirmed that was the case. She explained that she’d posted one of my reviews before and some of the people I’d criticized were upset, so she doesn’t need the headache of dealing with their reactions. I told her that I’m equally interested in both negative and positive reviews of my work and she let me know that she feels the same way. She assured me though that she finds my reviews help her to become a better host and organizer.

            I received an email from my friend Hans Jongman announcing that he and Farida are leaving Toronto to move to Welland, Ontario. I asked him if he’s in the witness protection program. He shared that the twelfth floor apartment they moved to last year gives them no contact with nature. They miss hearing birds sing so after 38 years of living in the big city they are going to what they hope will be a more peaceful location. I’m going to miss them.

            I took a bike ride in the late afternoon, continuing to explore the Parkview Hills area north of St Clair and east of the Don River. South of St Clair it’s mostly big houses and north for a couple of blocks it’s a middle class residential area of houses and no high-rises. After that though it suddenly becomes industrial, with mostly single or double story buildings like a concrete company. I smelled barley mash and thought there must be a brewery around. Sure enough there was Brunswick Bierworks, which I think has its own brand of beer but their main business seems to be to run batches for small brewers that might not have their production capability. I passed the School of Cadence Ballet, the East York Gymnastics Club, FX Beadworks, the Bangladeshi Hindu Cultural Society, which is a temple, and lots of other businesses. I explored the streets between Curity and Dohme and then headed back down O’Connor.

            On the east side of O’Connor there are old red brick apartment buildings three and four five stories high. Everything looks pretty low rent in this neighbourhood. Heading south on O’Connor I passed a very large old man with a beard riding a mountain bike on the sidewalk. I was feeling superior as I went by. South of St Clair the concrete on the west side of O’Connor starts getting broken up a bit. I was trying to surf around the deeper cracks but one turn sent me into a deeper crack and I was a little too close to the sidewalk. My front wheel went against the curb and I wiped out, falling to my right this time. Just as I hit the ground the old bearded fat man pulled up behind me to ask if I was okay. I got up as a balding middle-aged man with two young walking kids and another in a stroller came walking up as well. They stopped and the boy of about five called out “That happened to my dad a couple of times too!” I had a big bruise to the right of my right knee and another below it, three bruises across my major right knuckles and a tiny piece of gravel under the skin of my right palm. The bike seemed to be okay but my ego wasn’t. I really should have stayed outside the white line and on the road with the cars.

            I got back on my bike but found that my chain was off, so I hooked it back on and continued on my way. I crossed the bridge and when I got to the traffic light that would let me go south on Woodbine, the fat man was waiting there too. We didn’t speak. The light changed and I headed down to the Danforth. I stopped at the first Starbucks to use the washroom and to wash the dirt and grease of my hands. My riding was not impeded on the way home and so it looked like all the damage had been done to a layer of skin or two in various places. I felt lucky since a few times after wiping out and slamming my body on the ice while winter riding I’ve been sore for a couple of weeks.