I rode by on a Monday morning and
saw the police tape.
So many times served by the waiter
in the cowboy hat
I never minded the wait
French toast smothered in maple syrup
Red bricks eaten by flames
On a weekend with so many fire alarms
In a city that lives to blame
When power goes out in a heat wave
We rush to corners to direct the cars
But when Sundays are snuffed like a lit cigar
The police state's rather lame
And my daily pass through Dundas
and Euclid never will be the same
[See "Fire destroys Musa and several homes at Dundas and Euclid"]
Showing posts with label brunch. Show all posts
Showing posts with label brunch. Show all posts
7/07/2010
6/09/2008
Love in the Diner (04/07)
I had a strange experience today
After a 30km bike ride to the Beaches
and back in the spitting wind,
I finally made a break at Bathurst and College
at the College St Diner which
serves excellent pancakes although it has been known
to charge 50 cents a packet for strawberry jam.
In my recent streak of sheer psychic excitement
I've concluded I must be having a telepathic effect on total strangers
so wrapped up am I in this, this thing for which I have too much respect to name
that steam is pouring out my ears and infecting others
anyway it must have been a sign when
just after I ordered the 'Can't Talk, Eating' hungry-man special
four goodlooking philosophers (definitely not Toronto natives) - one woman, three men -
well coiffed, toned, erudite and inquisitive
sat down next to me and proceeded
to hold forth on
LOVE
'what love is' one of them asked
and that hooked me
and what's the difference between love and being in love
and whether love is an overused word
how it means whatever it wants to mean to whomever wants to use it
how the word means nothing at all, really
and how words generally do that.
I couldn't believe my ears
these philosophers
thirtysomething professorial types
the kind who can breezily discern semantics over brunch
the four most intelligent people on the planet, really
having this analytical argument
about the meaning of love
in which
my universe hung in the balance
they were talking about me
everything seems to be about me lately
- I deserve a healthy shake, I know -
I would have banged my sugar shaker on the table
to get their attention
saying 'hey folks, love is war and
you're looking at one of the foot soldiers!'
but I'm trying to give up sugar
in favour of healthier smoothie-type things
and so I kept silent
and they kept mocking me
four feet away
but the coincidence was too precious so
resourceful as I am I
asked the waitress for a pen
so I could jot this down for later
that was my revenge for
them talking about me and my war
ie me writing about them
so I unfolded my bike map of toronto
with the entire city depicted
(I use that map to figure out how to get around)
and wrote all over it but now it's ruined as
in scribbling in all of this
my words filled in all of lake ontario and half of the downtown west end.
(i know I must be preoccupied these days
but there are sensible ways to deal with it and there are crazy ones for
instance
on the way out of the diner
thinking about what it all meant
I accidentally walked right smack into the
women's bathroom
I guess I was looking for you
luckily no one screamed
but boy was I red.)
After a 30km bike ride to the Beaches
and back in the spitting wind,
I finally made a break at Bathurst and College
at the College St Diner which
serves excellent pancakes although it has been known
to charge 50 cents a packet for strawberry jam.
In my recent streak of sheer psychic excitement
I've concluded I must be having a telepathic effect on total strangers
so wrapped up am I in this, this thing for which I have too much respect to name
that steam is pouring out my ears and infecting others
anyway it must have been a sign when
just after I ordered the 'Can't Talk, Eating' hungry-man special
four goodlooking philosophers (definitely not Toronto natives) - one woman, three men -
well coiffed, toned, erudite and inquisitive
sat down next to me and proceeded
to hold forth on
LOVE
'what love is' one of them asked
and that hooked me
and what's the difference between love and being in love
and whether love is an overused word
how it means whatever it wants to mean to whomever wants to use it
how the word means nothing at all, really
and how words generally do that.
I couldn't believe my ears
these philosophers
thirtysomething professorial types
the kind who can breezily discern semantics over brunch
the four most intelligent people on the planet, really
having this analytical argument
about the meaning of love
in which
my universe hung in the balance
they were talking about me
everything seems to be about me lately
- I deserve a healthy shake, I know -
I would have banged my sugar shaker on the table
to get their attention
saying 'hey folks, love is war and
you're looking at one of the foot soldiers!'
but I'm trying to give up sugar
in favour of healthier smoothie-type things
and so I kept silent
and they kept mocking me
four feet away
but the coincidence was too precious so
resourceful as I am I
asked the waitress for a pen
so I could jot this down for later
that was my revenge for
them talking about me and my war
ie me writing about them
so I unfolded my bike map of toronto
with the entire city depicted
(I use that map to figure out how to get around)
and wrote all over it but now it's ruined as
in scribbling in all of this
my words filled in all of lake ontario and half of the downtown west end.
(i know I must be preoccupied these days
but there are sensible ways to deal with it and there are crazy ones for
instance
on the way out of the diner
thinking about what it all meant
I accidentally walked right smack into the
women's bathroom
I guess I was looking for you
luckily no one screamed
but boy was I red.)
4/03/2008
July 24, 2005
(prequel to as-yet nonexistent brunch blog)
What: Brunch
Where: 10:40am Cafe Luna, Dovercourt and Argyle, Toronto
Who: PT [that's me], KF, DT, SB, MG.
Resolutions passed:
MG reports attempt at 'lost key' ploy to pick up cute waitress at Hooters, but does not succeed. Embroiled in own deceit, he is forced to discuss whereabouts of phantom non-keys with manager, as waitress was nonplussed. MG to return for 3rd Hooters outing in less than a month after otherwise lifelong Hooters boycott.
Party Announced: "Theme Thursday", July 28. Normally "Waffle Wednesdays" but to conform to alliterative nomenclatural procedures this will be "Theme Thursday, colon, waffles." Possibility of chicken and waffles or other savoury, non-Belgian recipes. Unfortunately MV (third Chateau Nice housemate, sidelined with ovaries) cannot attend. 'Moon waffles' proposed to celebrate the anniversarial achievement of that great astronaut and dessert aficionado, Neil Armstrong.
SB relates near-brush with megastardom, demonstrating scanning equipment for Tom Cruise's Mission Impossible 3. Unfortch SB does not get to demo scanner and meet the megastar.
Out of nowhere PT proclaims high-speed mag-lev trains needed across Canada, a project for national unity. Airplanes (those white elephants of the sky) do not suffice.
MG to visit Germany for World Cup and then wants to stay for Oktoberfest. Thinks it impractical to stay away that long. PT suggests he bone up on German and then be key Canadian player in the beer fest, influencing international events with linguistic fluency.
Talk of Masonry, conspiracy theory, secret handshakes, pirates, and gold buried in Oak Island, Nova Scotia. Botched attempt by PT to take cellphone photo of Masonic symbol etched above restroom toilet.
MG is reading a book about psychic American troops training to explode goats' hearts with staring tactics. Incredulity around the table.
Final bill: $101.90 plus tip = $120
What: Brunch
Where: 10:40am Cafe Luna, Dovercourt and Argyle, Toronto
Who: PT [that's me], KF, DT, SB, MG.
Resolutions passed:
- brunch
- conversation
MG reports attempt at 'lost key' ploy to pick up cute waitress at Hooters, but does not succeed. Embroiled in own deceit, he is forced to discuss whereabouts of phantom non-keys with manager, as waitress was nonplussed. MG to return for 3rd Hooters outing in less than a month after otherwise lifelong Hooters boycott.
Party Announced: "Theme Thursday", July 28. Normally "Waffle Wednesdays" but to conform to alliterative nomenclatural procedures this will be "Theme Thursday, colon, waffles." Possibility of chicken and waffles or other savoury, non-Belgian recipes. Unfortunately MV (third Chateau Nice housemate, sidelined with ovaries) cannot attend. 'Moon waffles' proposed to celebrate the anniversarial achievement of that great astronaut and dessert aficionado, Neil Armstrong.
SB relates near-brush with megastardom, demonstrating scanning equipment for Tom Cruise's Mission Impossible 3. Unfortch SB does not get to demo scanner and meet the megastar.
Out of nowhere PT proclaims high-speed mag-lev trains needed across Canada, a project for national unity. Airplanes (those white elephants of the sky) do not suffice.
MG to visit Germany for World Cup and then wants to stay for Oktoberfest. Thinks it impractical to stay away that long. PT suggests he bone up on German and then be key Canadian player in the beer fest, influencing international events with linguistic fluency.
Talk of Masonry, conspiracy theory, secret handshakes, pirates, and gold buried in Oak Island, Nova Scotia. Botched attempt by PT to take cellphone photo of Masonic symbol etched above restroom toilet.
MG is reading a book about psychic American troops training to explode goats' hearts with staring tactics. Incredulity around the table.
Final bill: $101.90 plus tip = $120
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