Stay where you are.
Back again — sorry, internet.
In which the stereos and types of man’s greatest creation are looked at from the eyes of one plagued by modern television. Hold on; it’s a bumpy ride out there, social media types.
Hey, don’t the guys in these posters look kind of the same? Also, wearing similar outfits too. Dummies.
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Stay where you are.
Back again — sorry, internet.
In which the stereos and types of man’s greatest creation are looked at from the eyes of one plagued by modern television. Hold on; it’s a bumpy ride out there, social media types.
Hey, don’t the guys in these posters look kind of the same? Also, wearing similar outfits too. Dummies.
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A look at Ken-city before all the hype and hemp.
Goad’s Atlas of The City of Toronto, 1884
Note: Pre-Kensington Market. St. Patrick is eventually joined up with Arthur Street (across Bathurst) to create Dundas Street, Grosvenor Avenue becomes Augusta Avenue, Vanauley Street becomes Kensington Avenue, Clyde Street becomes Baldwin. Eventually.
Sleeping swell and eating all
Here we are again, folks. But this time, we are well-rested and better fed than recent memory can muster.
Back to even strength, I’d say.
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The Gaslight Anthem w/ Tim Barry — “The War” (Lucero Cover)
Stories about ourselves
In which a puzzled viewing in the heart of the Annex leads to a strange state of comments, observations, and cynicism for the youth of today.
Oh, and I rag on that faux-cancer thing going on. What an attention starved dummy.
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please come over
My feet, over there.
Another week bombarded with concert appearances, send-offs, and the broken promise of calm, rest, and relaxation.
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A steadfast apology.
In which a weekend weighs heavy on body, mind, and soul. To the woman of the world, both here and before, an apology of the most sincere regard. To the men of the world, we’re awful, awful, barbarians that don’t deserve a damn thing.
Yeah, I went to an Indy race and saw the horrors these woman go through.
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We keep it down, but take a beating.
In which we see a return to street level preachin’ for the faint of heart, the way it was meant to be. Also, it’s hotter than hell outside and I needed an excuse to bask in my newly cranked AC’d apartment.
There’s music in here.
