It feels like yonks (the technical measurement) since I’ve written from public transport. I feel like so often when I travel I’m faced with an assortment of colourful characters and curious vestments. Toronto’s a vibrant, diverse cultural nexus and it really shines out in public. Or its public’s transport. There are two empty boxes of Nicoderm patches on the floor in front of me. That’s something. Either someone really needed a mummy costume quickly on pain of death or wanted to not smoke so badly they adopted the medical equivalent of smoking a carton. In either event, there may be a very sickly person roaming the streets. In that case would it be fair to say they’d cigarotted themselves to death? Also, was that a triple pun? I’m not so gangreen at this shiz. The afflicted Nicodermatologist however, may be. In my mind’s eye I’m basically imagining Swamp Thing, but plastered entirely in nicotine patches. So kind of like one of my many childhood heroes, but with spectacularly disappointing powers of shortness of breath and mildly off-putting coughs. Smoke Thing seems a less appropriate youth role model than his more ad-mire-able relative. Though I’ll be fucked if I can remember why Swamp Thing was. It had to be something environmental. Like Fern Gully vengeant or something.
With all this talk of humanoid elementals, I’ve actually shifted transport from the famed 63 bus to the fairly enjoyable 506 streetcar. I’m just passing Sneaky Dee’s, which seems to be predictably dead on a drizzly Monday evening. The streets do seem to be kind of sparse, but I guess that’s just winter hibernation for you. Like bears, people are staying in practicing a little Treat Yo’Self. I’m mentally drooling with scenes of fireplaces, woollen sweaters, crisped marshmallows and mulled wine intermingling. Guys, I think we’ve established that my heart wants winter to be eternal apres ski. Wanted, slope bunny to cuddle up on the couch with me and my fantasy. Reality: I’ll just be wearing my snorlax kigurumi, supping on whiskey and Netflix, but that’s cool too, eh? Well its cool to me and ye of the peanut gallery can’t quench my fire. How would I crisp my marshmallows? You know, I’d quite like an excuse to try making Baked Alaska. Can that be Christmas?
On the Bloor line coming home now. Some dude is decked out in a Santa suit with a red bluejays cap. How ChristmasTObatory. Speaking of the festivus with the bestivus (opinion based on rhyme scheme only. One of my least favourite holidays in truth), I’m gonna play the hostivus with the mostivus. I’m holding my first Christmas potluck this year. Much like thanksgiving, I’m trying to create a safe, fun and inviting space for anyone who wouldn’t otherwise have access to one. My friends as family mentality is my new reality, drawing people through commonality of lacking familial relativity. Also if they’re lucky I might drunkenly rap. I’m hoping like last time that we’ll have a copious table spread and a cast of happy bellies afterwards. Here’s the thing, I don’t necessarily want to accede to Christmas recipes. The majority of us are gonna be kiwi, so we’re used to summertime Xmas vittles. We’re in a brand new country without adhering to family obligations. We can eat whatever we want. So what do we want to do with all this power? What Would Kanye Do? I assume he’d make something in his own image. I happen to have a turkey, just cause it was cheap. This doesn’t necessarily mean I need to roast it as per the norm. I could try the Kanye and make it in my own image. What does this mean? Frankly I have no idea. I’ve never considered the borderline nightmarish Cosmo quiz style line of questioning that states “What method of autocannibalism are you?” Could I slow cook pulled turkey this bird? Sweet and fatty, but packed with flavour. Seems to fit me in a nutshell. Is there some way to smoke a turkey? That sounds phenomenal, though requiring resources I’m not even close to owning. I’m sure my old pal Smoke Thing could help me. Mmm carcinogens. Maybe I won’t even serve the turkey at Christmas and just revel in the fact that I got 4.5kg of turkey for $9. I was practically losing money by not buying it.
I think this train of thought, like the train I took, has come to a stop. It’s time for me to disembark for the evening. Until next time, What Would Kanye Do?