Fully Furnished

I met David Furnish at the Hazelton Hotel in Toronto's Yorkville and staff seemed to have no idea he was something of a big thing--we got bounced around a bit trying to get seated and had to firmly ask for a corner table even though the inside of the hotel restaurant was mid-afternoon empty.

Furnish was honest and humble. I think being chosen as parade marshal in his hometown had made him reflective about his life's journey from Scarborough to LA/Windsor/Etc. But I would say that our interaction was pretty formal until my prepared questions ended and we started talking about the cult Canadian musician Jane Siberry. I had interviewed her in 1996 for a Vancouver magazine I was editing; he had interviewed her the same year for Interview magazine, when her album Teenager came out.

We both agreed that she has cleared the way for the commercial success of the many female Canadian singer-songwriters who had followed (especially Sarah McLachlan). Even though Furnish had already talked to me in great detail about how he and Elton John parent their two kids, it seemed like his enthusiasm for Siberry was our first totally unguarded moment.

When you're married to one of the world's most famous men, I suppose, you probably welcome moments where you can speak about something with passion, where that passion won`t likely end up in the tabloid headlines.

Read the exclusive IN magazine here.
interview

Vital Signs in a divided city

It's always interesting to be part of the team that reports for the Toronto Star around the Toronto Foundation's annual Vital Signs report. This year my main mission was to seek out residents from six corners of the city to find people who had vastly different experiences with transit, housing and employment depending on where they lived. In just 100 words each, I tried to provide snapshots illustrating that where one lives dramatically affects how one lives--and vice versa.

I really appreciated how candid some of the interviewees were about their life experiences. A seemingly simple question like, "Tell me about your commute," can reveal many personal challenges and triumphs.

Where you live affects how you live.

Somebody's gotta do something about Toronto's Pride "Parade" (and what I think they should do)

Like dinner guests too polite to say the chicken's overcooked and the potatoes are inedible, Torontonians cheerfully show up year after year to see the city's annual Pride parade. But after this year's six-hour WorldPride non-spectacle, it's time to pull the hosts into the kitchen for a few words.

WorldPride, on the whole, was great. Pride Toronto promised big and delivered big, with a panache that seemed almost effortless. It takes amazing talent and dedication to pull off an event of this size and the Pride Toronto team has both. As to the locals who said things like, "WorldPride doesn't seem that much bigger than a regular Pride," I would point out that they probably had failed to change their own Pride habits to take in the whole 10-day festival. There's only so many people you can fit on Church Street; those who wandered off it were bound to be impressed. Every visitor I talked to had nothing but good things to say.

As someone who has followed the planning of WorldPride from the beginning, I can also say that it's astonishing it happened at all. There were several changes in Pride Toronto management and board approach and philosophy since the idea first emerged in 2006--yes, eight years ago. The fact that the WorldPride idea outlasted politics, both internal and external, tells you how good an idea it was. Unlike in other cities, Toronto's Pride celebrations always seem to transcend back-room drama, Any factionalism seems to, in the long run, produce a better event.

I will write more about these WorldPride successes in the future.

But back to the WorldPride parade. Or should I say the WorldPride march.

Having watched almost every parade, from beginning to end, since 2000 (I missed it two years ago when I was at WorldPride in London--let me tell you about THAT some day), I can tell you that Toronto's parade has been dull for some time. For budgetary or other reasons, the quality of the entries peaked in the early 2000s and has dwindled ever since. Few floats, not enough music, not enough planning in the entries, not enough inspiration and flair. Some much perfunctory, so little perfection.

Although there are always some spectacular exceptions (I won't risk leaving someone out by naming any of these stars), the bar has become quite low for creativity and craftsmanship (as a gentleman, I won't name these offenders either). For most entrants, a marching contingent with flags and Mardi Gras beads seems to be enough. God bless their hearts, but I have to say that as a spectator, standing in the hot sun, forgoing many other fun Pride activities, it's not enough.

It's nice that entrants are proud LGBTTIQQ2S or straight people supportive of the same. I love good intentions. But a parade is a parade, not a petition. It's a show! It's theatre! It's sensation and glitz! It's brazen and bold! It's emotional! It's quite possibly shocking! And, despite some exceptions, the Toronto parade is none of that. It is a march, punctuated by an occasional float and an occasional burst of music. It is a march that's bigger than the Trans March and less exhilarating than the Dyke March. But it's a march. The grand marshals, international guests and PFLAG have earned the public good will to get away with merely marching. For everyone else, it's just not enough.

And this year's WorldPride "parade" was... drum roll... more than six hours long. I gave up early. Most spectators did. It was hot. There are lots of other things to do. And, after a while, one union waving rainbow flags looks like one group of politicos waving rainbow flags. Unless you know the individual people marching--and most spectators do not--it's boring, boring, boring. A show of popular support and mass mobilization? Sure. But a show of how fabulous queer people are? Not quite.

When organizers promised an "enhanced" parade this year, I got my hopes up. But it seems "enhanced" was just code for "unbearably long."

The march of nations was a great idea. But the activists from around the world marched in silence, as if the only appropriate tone was reverent awe, not the joy Pride is supposed to foster. Where was the "Rise Up" theme song? As international delegation was followed by more and more marching contingents, their presence did not stand out as much as it should have. It was a missed opportunity.

But I am not a critic without suggestions. Here's how to fix the parade.

Each parade applicant--corporate or community, big group or small--will be asked to to have at least one "feature" in their entry. What a "feature" is is up for debate (some people might include "shirtlessness and sex appeal" but I wouldn't be so crass). But I would suggest a list that starts something like this:

- A float, that is, a decorated elevated platform on which participants can perform (note the word "perform" as opposed to, say, "stand listlessly")
- Live or recorded music, ideally chosen to represent the spirit of the entry
- Choreography
- Creative and/or matching costumes
- A novelty performance (eg, clown on stilts; drag queens acting out comedic vignettes) or novelty object (eg, confetti canon)
- Etc.

But wait, you say! You can't stop people from going in the Pride parade! Just because someone hasn't an ounce of creativity or the budget for a couple of dollar-store pompoms doesn't mean they can't show their pride! That's censorship! That's uninclusive!

But Pride applicants who don't have 20 minutes to come up with a little dance or a group cheer or some little joke that might provide delight to spectators, can indeed participate. Under my rules, they just follow all the groups who made a special effort to have a "feature." Their march will seamlessly immediately follow the actual parade. If spectators drift away after the transition, they have at least seen the best of the community.

For participants who don't like this two-tiered arrangement, it's an easy fix. Make an effort.

Under my system, if the real parade is 20 minutes and the march is five hours, that's fine--it'll be a great 20 minutes. And if it's six hours of parade and no marching contingents at all, then, at last, that's an afternoon well spent.

A successful parade isn't about body count. It's a demonstration of the vibrancy and creativity of a community. Numbers matter in elections, not in fabulousness.

The horror beneath the dining room

What is it with the state of Toronto's restaurant washrooms?

If you've dined out in the city, you know what I mean. Not all establishments are guilty. You usually find the classic example in a storefront dining room, maybe on an established commercial street like Queen or Yonge or Dundas. Long narrow spaces in older buildings. Not a lot of elbow room. Owners, like any smart business people, want to maximize their seating area and their revenue.

So what to do with a non-monetized space like the WC? Well you stick it in the basement, of course.

Being in the basement is not an inherently awful thing. I have been in a considerable number of nice basements in my life. But in Toronto, it's like there's a bylaw that requires stylistic neglect of all subterranean rooms containing or purporting to contain running water. These facilities are treated as if there's not a part of the establishment at all. Perhaps they are contracted out to property managers in the developing world.

The other day I was at Soos, a Malaysian fusion restaurant on Ossington, Like many of its Ossington-strip peers, it's a fashionable spot, with attention to every dining-room detail. One wall is painted with evocative red lanterns. A big spiky lighting fixture in the centre of the room is set off against funky mechanic's lights hanging over the tables. A vintage-looking wooden screen separates the front room from the bar. It's all exceedingly tasteful. There was a huge table of fashion-retail types there the night I was there, every hair in place, making me feel like I should be drinking a cosmo.

The food was pretty, too. Not to mention tasty. Especially the pork belly pancakes.

The stairs to the loo, worn wood, were not out of character from main room. No, you had to make the full descent. Stepping onto the basement floor was like pulling back the curtain at a vaudeville theatre. It was an alternative universe, perhaps lorded over by an ornery junkyard owner for whom aesthetics are both offensive and cumbersome.

Bulkheads in the hallway, bulkheads over the sink where I bonked my head. The tile and fixtures were so dated, so cheap and blah, they might have been purchased at a fire sale in 1979. They might have been given away by a low-end contractor. The paper towel dispenser would not have been out of place in a prison.

It was not dirty. Everything worked. I won't compare it to a gas station washroom. But not a smidge of attention had been paid to its appearance and comfort. So it was comparable to a very clean, well-maintained gas station washroom. Except it was underneath a trendy restaurant.

Soos is not unusual. I have been in the washrooms of nice Toronto restaurants where non-functioning urinals have been covered with garbage bags, where mops are left standing by the sink, where soap coats a cheap plastic soap bottle, where the toilets are baby blue, where the caps on the sink's taps are missing.

None of this is the end of the world. But why on earth, when a restaurant is trying to create an environment for which $50 a person is the starting price for a decent meal, do Torontonians put up with it?

Is it because no one wants to admit they go to the bathroom, not even restaurant owners?

Rob Ford's substance abuse problem

People love to quibble over "addiction." It's a term that suggests a medical condition with specific symptoms (for example, you start to shake if the substance is withdrawn) and specific treatments (methadone, AA meetings).

That's why I much prefer talking about drug and alcohol problems. A problem is something an outsider can determine without knowing the biochemistry, thoughts and feelings of the person in question. A problem doesn't presume to know what's going on inside a person, only how the person is doing in the world.

Toronto mayor Rob Ford has said again and again that he's not an addict--it's something he's entitled to say. It could be true. But his addiction or non-addiction is irrelevant. That's why councillors need to focus on his drug and alcohol problem--Ford undeniably has one.

Ford might not crave a drink or a fix. Ford might use only occasionally. But if drugs or alcohol (or drugs and alcohol, as seems to be the case) harms his work and personal relationships, it's a problem. It may not be a problem for Ford himself--I've known some users who have had a great time drunk or high--but it is is for the people around him who have to respond to his doped up behaviour. Those who are affected decide if there's a problem, not the user.

It's a problem if someone's missing time at work. It's a problem if it hurts performance. It's a problem if someone become belligerent and abusive. It's a problem if the lies needed to continue using drugs and alcohol create headaches and heartaches for the people around the user. Falling asleep on the job, spending chunks of the workday meeting up with  an alleged drug dealer friend, showing up at public events drunk--all problems, regardless of whether Rob Ford is an addict or alcoholic or not.

The salacious drama of the crack video--the video! the video! the video!--has distracted people from the central issue. Yes, it's shocking that the mayor of Toronto has smoked crack, that he was in such a drunken stupor that his memories of the experience are vague. I'm sure the video, if we ever get to see it, will be both hilarious and troubling.

But I'm more interested in the problems created by what Rob Ford did in that seedy room. Where should he have been? Conducting city business? Spending time with his kids? How did he get home afterwards? What actions did he take, if any, to obtain and/or destroy the video or punish its owners? How much trouble has six months of his lying about the video caused for his friends, family, co-workers and the citizens of Toronto? How much trust has been destroyed?

It doesn't really matter if it was crack or meth or pot or tobacco in Rob Ford's pipe if troublesome things came of his smoking it.

Ford's opponents like to throw everything they don't like about Ford into a big bag, shake it and offer it up as evidence toward removing him from office. That includes his policies (the man ripped up bike lanes!), his sleazy populist tactics, his slovenly appearance, his crassness, his violation of council rules, his negative attitudes toward LGBT people and other minorities, as well as his substance abuse problem. For these opponents, the crack video is just another embarrassing, frustrating thing, like the "subways, subways, subways" mantra.

This "He's awful and needs to go" generalization confuses the issue. It distracts as much as Rob Ford's own "I am not an addict" shtick.

No matter what you think about the direction Rob Ford has taken the city in, his competence in doing so or his personal style, these are things for voters to decide. We are allowed to vote for incompetent people, even addicts, for that matter. But it is clear from all kinds of evidence, not just the video and the expansive police files, that the man has a substance abuse problem that needs to be addressed. And it needs to be addressed by the people around him who are most affected. His family, his staff and, on behalf of the citizens of Toronto, his fellow councillors.

Toronto councillors can't force Rob Ford into treatment, but they can refuse to stop cleaning up his mess.

Building community and excitement

The one thing I regret not including in this piece for Yonge Street Media--you can only fit so much in one story--is one of the triggers for Playing for Keeps and other programs designed to generate excitement about the Pan Am/Parapan Games. 

That is: Organizers, including some city councillors, attended the Pan Am Games in Guadalajara, Mexico, in 2011 and saw how excited people were about the Games. The city was abuzz. And Canadians started to worry that Toronto would look blasé by comparison.

So, a lot of the windup to the Games was motivated by fear of looking dull and boring.

Not an unuseful fear.

Three unspeakable observations

I think Pope Francis, who seems genuinely humble, is doing an impressive job at reframing the image of the Roman Catholic church. 

I think the Harper government, specifically Foreign Affairs Minister John Baird, is doing a decent job on international human rights (let's go after Russia now, shall we? Perhaps Canada can host Pride House at the Sochi Olympics).

Closer to home, my garbage collection has been better (less mess on the street after pick up) since Rob Ford privatized it (I feel bad for the lost union jobs, but I'm speaking purely as a consumer).

Do these achievements affect my global view of these leaders? Not so much. Don't get me started on the Roman Catholic church's larger problems with sex, gender and social justice, the Harper government's job on international trade (or domestically--whoa!) or Rob Ford's vision, honesty, competence or mental health. But sometimes you have to give credit where credit is due, even if it doesn't change your vote.

Why the Loblaw takeover of Shoppers won't make downtown life any better--and will probably make it duller

The hegemony of Shoppers Drug Mart in downtown life took a sharp left turn this week with the announcement that Loblaw intends to buy the pharmacy chain for $12.4 million. 

While optimists are hoping for savings though cost-cutting and perhaps loyalty reward synergies between the PC Plus and Optimum programs, the merger will likely speed up the Shoppersization of urban life—big generic chain stores gobbling up prime commercial space, squeezing out the variety and whimsy that makes city life great.

Throughout Toronto’s condo boom, it’s been clear that Shoppers Drug Mart is one of the top choices for anchor tenants in new buildings. (Winners or Marshalls might also do in a pinch.) Of course, why not? A pharmacy is a safer, quieter and less risky choice for storefront space than, say, a nightclub, independent café or niche boutique. But safe choices in retail tenants makes for bland and banal streetscapes. A 25-minute streetcar ride down Queen West from Roncesvalles to University—Canada’s most vibrant shopping street—showcases no fewer than four Shoppers Drug Marts.

Grocery stores aren’t particularly exciting either, but they’re usually in oddball parking-lotted places or, in the case of the two new flagship Loblaw—Maple Leaf Gardens and Queen West at Portland—imaginatively tucked away into larger developments. Target—again, not a retailer known for its beautiful properties but let’s do our best to muster some choices here—has so far only opened stores on the fringes of the city. The chain remains virtually invisible to downtowners. You can complain that Walmart hurts small independent shops, but you can’t complain the stores are eyesores. So far, the retail giant’s only central location is in a mall, though plans to open a new location near Kensington Market are enough to send a chill up the spine of any flaneur.

Shoppers Drug Marts are much more in your face. Small enough to eat up the best most high-traffic locations, big enough to squeeze out three or four small boutiques once they set their sights on a property. Shoppers drug Marts can make even the most unique neighbourhood feel like nowhere at all.

Surprisingly, Pharma Plus and Guardian drugs have done little to take advantage of all the new retail space that’s come available in central Toronto; the expansion of the Pharma Plus at Church and Wellesley seems almost uniquely futile. Which means that the city is not merely awash in new brightly lit pharmacies, but awash in a single pharmacy brand.

A Loblaw/Shoppers merger can only increase the homogenization of our urban landscape. Unless other major retail chains push into downtown—or unless landlords start making it easier for independent stores to get leases—our corridors will be awash in red and white façades, retail spaces that offer a little of everything except personality.

That didn't take long

Called it. Now it's serious.

If we want Rob Ford to deal with the crack cocaine allegations, the place to start asking questions is not City Hall, but the high school where he coaches football

If Toronto had a normal mayor, we might be able to write a script of what will happen now that Gawker and the Toronto Star have reported seeing a video of someone who looks like Rob Ford smoking something that looks like crack cocaine.

If the allegations are false, Ford would offer evidence—or at least an argument—why what the reporters thought they saw isn’t what they saw; he’d quickly correct these incorrect perceptions. If the allegations are true, Hollywood has prepared us to expect a remorseful resignation and a stint in rehab.

But Toronto does not have a normal mayor and, based on past experience, it seems entirely possible that Rob Ford’s simple “ridiculous” dismissal  (What’s ridiculous? The allegations? His crack use? That people care? The fundraising campaign to buy the video? The fact that, accused of calling Liberal leader Justin Trudeau a "fag," he was going to take refuge in a ceremony commemorating the International Day Against Homophobia?) might be his last word on the subject. His critics at Toronto City Council has not yet found the wherewithal to leverage Ford’s private shenanigans in the political sphere—even Rob Ford’s legal/judicial shenanigans have done little to erode his voter base. There’s no reason to think his opponents—and even his more nervous supporters—will be more capable this time.

But what about Don Bosco Catholic Secondary School, where Ford coaches football? Just because city councillors should be expected to work with a colleague who might have a substance abuse problem doesn’t mean the parents of high school students should tolerate their kids being exposed to such a controversial figure. Adults working with minors should always be held to a higher standard.

And so I predict that Don Bosco is where Rob Ford’s epically bizarre mayoral rule might start to unravel. Can the high school principal leave these allegations uninvestigated—that its football coach might be using illegal drugs and, while doing so, might be belittling the team’s players? I don’t think so. Even if city council has learned to work around Rob Ford’s erratic behaviour, a high school principal should not. While there may never be enough evidence against Rob Ford for criminal charges based on the alleged video, there might already be enough evidence to ask him to resign as football coach. No matter how great a coach he is, the toxicity of the allegations—and his failure to address them—are much too damning. Any serious educator knows exactly what has to happen next.

Is this a side note to a larger political scandal? Considering how much time Ford spends on the football field—and considering the footballers he surrounds himself with at City Hall—the loss of his position as football coach might be a far bigger reality check than anything that could happen to him in his role of mayor.

If Toronto wants Ford to seriously deal with the allegations in the Gawker and Toronto Star stories, the issue will have to be raised in the principal’s office, not the council chambers.

Built Ford Tough

Progressive Torontonians are freaking out about the election of Rob Ford as mayor, not just because they're worried about what he'll do to the city. They're also disturbed by how many of their fellow citizens voted for a man with track record of bigoted speech about gay and lesbian people and Canadian newcomers--or just about anybody else who is not a car-driving, home-owning middle-class straight married person. Is this what my neighbours/people in the 'burbs think of me? they wonder.

It's true that these attitudes are part of the Ford package. But I think other less worrisome (though no less desirable) factors played a part in Ford's election.

The biggest factor is star power. Torontonians love to vote for a strong, sharply defined character. Exhibit A, Mel Lastman. Rob Ford ran as himself, a classic love-em-or-hate-em character, right out of The Family Guy. Even David Miller, with his stylish hair and upright appearance, had a Soccer Dad/Dudley Doright persona that was immediately understandable on an emotional level. Ford's main rival, George Smitherman, had been a "character" in the past, but ran a campaign where he tried to quash his established persona of Furious George and failed to adopt a new persona along the lines of "gay dad." Voters wondered who Smitherman was and, ergo, if he was hiding something. Torontonians will vote for a big, authentic personality, no matter what policy it's offering them.

As well, David Miller's mishandling of the 2009 garbage strike meant that even moderate voters were keen to punish anyone who seemed gutless in seeking efficiency and, especially, seeking efficiency from the unions. They wanted guts. Pantalone was too closely associated Miller--and too pro-labour--to answer this need. Smitherman, bizarrely, considering his past track record, wasn't able to position himself as someone who could be a tough bargainer. The one thing you know about a loose cannon like Ford is that he won't back down (even when he should). Will it he be effective? I doubt it. But voters wanted someone who acknowledges the problem and will try to solve it.

For better or, more precisely, for worse, it's shallow perceptions, not what runs underneath them that will win or lose you an election in this city. Ford ran a great one-note campaign that capitalized on voter frustration: stop the gravy train, stop the gravy train, stop the gravy train. Ford's specifics--tearing up the streetcar lines or defunding Pride celebrations--were not, I think, a big part of why people voted for him.

Fingers crossed.

Ennui Blanche

So many of the complaint about Nuit Blanche are hard to remedy.

The biggest one--the crowds and their increasing obnoxiousness--could only be solved by something vaguely fascistic. A survey might be distributed: "Which do you care more about: art or getting drunk on the street?" and those who chose the latter might be imprisoned inside their homes for the duration of the evening.

One of the charms of the early days of Nuit Blanche was to look around you and see a panorama of Torontonians exercising their curiosity about their city and what was happening artistically in it. Some of those people were even drunk, but they were engaged. Now one looks around and sees people delighted only that the streets are closed and that there's food for sale on the rutted asphalt.

There's something sad about people so disconnected from their city--so shut out of urban spaces--that they'll turn up in droves to eat corn on a stick in the middle of Yonge Street. You have to wonder why we don't have more permanent pedestrian streets, period. But that desperation is not their fault. And so, as annoying as they are, I would never deny any peaceful folks the pleasure of doing whatever they want to do in the middle of major downtown intersections. In this, Nuit Blanche felt something like a G8/G20 healing session, though my heart did skip a bit when a posse of masked all-in-black young people went by. It took me a moment to realize that there outfits were too tight to do anything but writhe and gyrate.

There have also been complaints about the art, that it was dull. Personally, I keep my expectations low. I'd rather be pleasantly surprised by paper swans hung from trees behind the Eaton Centre than spend all night looking for the "big thing." Nuit Blanche needs to creep up on you, not slap you in the face. Besides, the bigger the "thing," the bigger the crowds. Jeff Koons could land a spaceship on the roof of city hall and any non-masochist would know the most pleasant place from which to watch it would be eight blocks away or some inaccessible perch in the sky like Canoe.

What got me frustrated was the incredibly high percentage of "stuff on screens." I know that there are lots of people doing video art who should not be denied access to Nuit Blanche's exposure. And not all of it was inappropriate--the Holt Refrew "smile" thing was okay, partly because of the irony of the luxury store hosting images that were so folksy. But we live in a culture where so much of our quotidian existence is dominated by screens: our computer screens at work and home, the information screens in the subway, our television screens at home, our phone screens in our pockets. When the goal is reshaping our perceptions of the city--of life--I want something physical, I want something that's real, even if I can't touch it. I want something that has gravitational force.

The moment that just killed me is when we broke from the crowds on Yonge Street and went down McGill to a little parkette, perfectly sized for a perfect surprise. The piece, "Meeting Point: After a planner whose search for new forms pays tribute to existing and familiar places, 2004," by US artist Iman Issa was described as an installation. The image in the program shows a large platform-like object on the grass in a park-like space. We come around the corner and see, not a platform-like object or any "structure" at all, but a screen with an image of a "structure." The screen probably took much more effort to set up than the structures depicted would have taken. I wanted to move around something, to feel it change the world around it. Instead, I got a picture on a screen. They might as well have emailed it to my BlackBerry and saved me the trip.

Give me paper swans in trees, giant clown heads between buildings, loops of tape held aloft by fans (much freakier to see than it sounds reduced to mere prose). If the pieces aren't crowd friendly, put them behind a fence, if you must. But don't give me anything I could easy get on the interwebs.

Ideas and their enactment

Attending theatre festivals like the Fringe or SummerWorks, which is on this week, I usually focus my attention on the ideas behind the plays, what they might become rather than what they are.

Now, a lot of festival shows are fantastic. But even great festival shows (especially great festival shows) are often on their way to something else, like a main stage full-evening mounting. So there can be times when you have to let your imagination fill in the gaps of what might be under more optimal conditions. The creators are often trying things out, seeing what works within the limits of the festival's time frame (usually an hour) and logistical constrains (limited tech time, limited rehearsal time, limited time to erect and strike a set). The bells and whistles that come with a long theatrical run are denied festival productions. To watch (some of) these shows fairly, you have to accept that the intentions and spirit of the production are more important than their execution.

And then you see blow-you-away performances like Atomic Vaudeville's Ride The Cyclone and Edwidge Jean-Pierre's Even Darkness Is Made of Light. You realize there's no reason to handicap festival shows.

With Ride the Cyclone, a young cast sing and dance their way through numbers that personify the lives of their (dead) characters. The electricity coming off the stage is amazing. Each song crackles with bravado when it's not pulling at your heart strings.

It feels weird to describe a play about suicide as a tour-de-force but that's exactly what Even Darkness is. Harness up Jean-Pierre to the grid and we could pretend nuclear energy was never an option. She covers ever inch of the stage (and much of the theatre), taking her character from self-pity to joy to depression to silent redemption in the blink of an eye. She finishes the show bathed and sweat and, inside our heads, so does the audience.

Exceptional performances can happen anywhere at any time. How was the lighting and the sets? Who noticed?

What Adam Giambrone needs to do next

Take a break from electoral politics, Adam. You've worn your heart on your sleeve about your political aspirations for a long time and it's not too late to still become prime minister (or perennial NDP leader as the case may be). At 32, you have plenty of time to pursue this goal, and maybe even become premier of Ontario along the way.

But now is the perfect time to catch your breath. Resign as TTC head and don't bother running for councillor in the next election. In your ward, you are not the most popular person right now (for pesky issues, I know, like the Queen Triangle debacle, the narrowing of Lansdowne, for parking on Dundas, but these are issues dear to the hearts of voters). Losing the next election would add insult to injury. Step away from the ballot box.

Your early fresh-faced entry into electoral politics proves the maxim about power corrupting.

(Disclaimer: I don't think a promiscuous person is a corrupted person. My qualm is cultivating the public image that you're single and available (how else was Now able to mistakenly presume you're gay?), then parading a quasi-wife figure when you announce your candidacy for mayor--as if that's even necessary in this day and age--then, when confronted with the facts of a sexual relationship with somebody other than your quasi-wife, lying about it. Toronto could have easily handled--perhaps even celebrated--a swinging single mayor. It's the role the women were cast in that's off-putting. If, with the support of your quasi-wife, you could have replied to The Toronto Star allegations with a confident "So what?" you wouldn't be hiding out in Italy this week.)

So here's what to do. Spend the next three to five years doing something else. Something that will make a difference but is somewhat under the radar. Run the United Way. Get involved in some green-energy company. Do an academic fellowship for some kind of centre for innovation. Show that you're not just a smarmy politico but someone who has the smarts to solve real problems and deliver real tangible results. We can debate forever whether the TTC would have been better off or worse without you; it was a major mess and remains a major mess. Grab hold of a project that will show success within five years, something manageable enough that the success will show your signature. Pick something close to your heart that shows you really care about the work, not the public attention it gets you. If you're out of the headlines for a few years, so much the better.

After people have all but forgotten your time as city councillor, run for provincial or federal politics with a campaign that demonstrates how much you've learned from your time in the private/not-for-profit sector. Tap into that newfound wisdom for political problem-solving strategies.

Hey, it worked for former Winnipeg mayor Glen Murray (who admittedly wasn't trying to leave behind any taint other than being non-Ontarian) who just became an MPP at Queen's Park. His time as president and CEO of the Canadian Urban Institute was not wasted. Yours won't be either.

Blaming the victim

I was going to post a rant about the police response to a dramatic increase of pedestrian-vehicle fatalities (and we all know which side of that equation suffered the fatalities), but the Star's Christopher Hume beat me to it, articulating what is most galling about the cop's propensity to blame the victim. When we have a traffic system that never ensures the safety of pedestrians (and cyclists, for that matter), whether they obey the rules or not, any incentive to obey the rules is removed.

People wonder why there's been such a rash of accidents. My theory: drivers are more cautious when there is a certain threshold of pedestrians around. Drivers have to see a decent number of human beings to register, "Hey, there are people around I have to watch out for." (As a cyclist, I've learned that the most dangerous time to bike is spring, just as biking weather hits. Drivers have to re-learn how to navigate us.)

Un-vehicled people are scarce on many streets and neighbourhoods in the winter so drivers become more cavalier. Our warm snap brought pedestrians to places where motorists weren't expecting them, but not enough to make them more careful.

Regardless, any response that treats pedestrians and people zooming around in 5,000 pound worth of fast-moving, gas-guzzling armour as equally responsible is a response that's out of touch with reality.

Bright young thing

I have also been doing work lately for Yonge Street Media, a weekly online magazine that spotlights innovation and creativity in Toronto. Having focussed so much on theatre lately, I often feel like I'm applying arts-style coverage to business and community-building projects, which is kinda fun.

The new season looks a lot like the old season

I know that in some circles, Soulpepper can do no wrong. But, really? Four remounts, including two shows, Glengarry Glenn Ross and Billy Bishop Goes to War that were highlights in the season we're just three-quarters of the way through.

Then we have works by David French and Joe Orton again, admittedly different ones. Sure, they're great plays by great playwrights but there must be others kicking around. Is the modern theatrical canon that Soulpepper loves so much really that tiny? Obviously, they made money off these plays--last season was exceptionally strong--but what does it say to subscribers, who would have seen Billy Bishop less than six months earlier? In some ways, it's less a theatre season, closer to a Broadway run, with shows running until all the available audience has seen them.

There are a few interesting and surprising choices. Sharon Pollock's Doc gets a little female can-con in there, and A Raisin in the Sun much needed colour. The academy pieces, especially Daniel Brooks' non-traditional mounting of The Cherry Orchard also look promising.

Mutual exclusivity

An ad in The Globe and Mail for the Bloor-Yorkville shopping area has one bubble with the text, "We're cultivating a greener bloor with wider walkways & greener spaces" and the next one with "Over 7000 parking spaces." I suppose, they may be parking the cars on the walkways and green spaces, but aren't these contradictory promises? It's that whole promise of "you can be environmentally sensitive and not change anything about your life, you can reduce your carbon footprint and consume material and energy at the same rate you've always consumed them."


Ah, no.

Turning the Pages

I remember before I moved to Toronto, I had a friend who lived there who was (and is) a great enthusiast of the philosopher Gilles Deleuze. He'd swing by Pages bookshop on Queen West with astonishing regularity to see if new Deleuze stock had arrived. Pages is where such intellectual capital could disperse itself beyond the dusty halls of academia. He would take note that, say, three copies of Capitalism and Schizophrenia had arrived and, a few days later, note with equal or greater joy that one had been sold.

He successfully passed on the Deleuze meme to me. When I came to live in Toronto, I would also monitor the Pages' Deleuze collection as something of a guide to the rise and fall of his popularity, of a way to feel that there were other people out there who shared my interest. I would also browse the art books, first looking for naughty bits, then architectural porn, which I'm not sure is any more wholesome. I'd also track the books of people I knew. And end up buying a few magazines or remainders. Or the occasional splurge.

So it was a sad moment when I swung Pages by on closing day. I must admit my motivation was predatory. I felt a moment of personal disappointment; I was hoping for a better discount than the 35 percent off they were offering. Then I took a look at the empty shelves, the oddball handful of remaining stock and I was a little choked up. The bookstore at the beating heart of the city is no more. It makes it much harder, and much less fun, to take our collective cultural pulse.

Drinking & driving

The LCBO has finally decided where to put its Roncesvalles liquor store. This comes a year--a full year--after they told me that they were close to picking a location. And the new location won't open till next summer. It's great to see how quickly this retail monopoly works.

Now, they could have had a role-model store on Roncey. Something cute, storefront and pedestrian friendly. But no. The LCBO's passion for huge parking lots won out. They're putting it in the the plaza currently shared by the city's saddest Loblaws and a contender for the city's saddest Zellers (the latter category is a very competitive one, I know, thus the qualification). It's a dying plaza. There used to be a dollar store or two there, but they're gone now. It's certainly close to Roncey. It's walkable, yes. But it's really meant for driving to. The LCBO's suburban car-oriented mentality again trumps all other factors.