My decompression time for the first half of the week is relatively uneventful, yet wonderful. I start to remember there is a world outside my apartment, and figure it is time to head home.
In this town, there is the downtown. And then there is the uptown. And they are very different things. I have no intention to shop or gain weight, so I keep to the downtown while waiting to meet old friends at various drop points.
Apparently, there is a vandalism problem downtown. My recent interest in bombing has made me sensitive to the presence of any tags, art, vomit sprayed on walls, etc. After wandering the main strip and its various "back streets", I am a little confused. I have only found one display of black paint - the writer is enamoured with his own name and wants everyone to see it and love it as well.
I mention my confusion to L'il P (not so little anymore), who laughs and pulls a flower from a hanging basket, tucks the blossom into my hat. "Now we are vandals."
On entering the town, the welcome signs insist that I am entering the Feel Good town with signs to spas, holistic health centres, condos. Tacked up on one of the sign posts is a small sign: "Waterfront Ribfest." This sign is repeated elsewhere throughout the town, infesting the country-side.
All of the townies I recognize have undergone one of two changes to my fresh eye. They have either doubled in size or halved. I can easily attribute serious drug use to the latter. Cocaine is easier to find than Red Bull. I am offered percocets for a reasonable price within the first hour back. Supply may also be blamed for the former as well. The lone sushi bar is abandoned (and delicious and affordable) yet I am assured that McDonalds, Wendy's and Pizza Hut are hopping.
Everyone drives. I think I saw about 10 bikes and 5 skateboards, all concentrated by the beach.
On the east side of the harbour, children scream in the water while teenagers play volleyball and sunbathe. The Yacht Club crew is conspicuous in their windbreakers.
The west side is overgrown with wildflowers and the pebble beach spreads off into the distance without any other invaders but us. A-star (not K) hucks a rock into the lake and an unexpected sucking noise follows, rather than a clean splash. The water that surges in the wake of the projectile is strongly reminiscent of the contents of a toilet the morning after a night of heavy drinking.
"Haha, booze poos."
the Gem of Lake Ontario:
A seagull flies close to the surface and stumbles - it was nearly pulled under as it tried to pry a piece of debris from the waves. Dead and bloated carp litter the beach. Another seagull goes in for a snack and I yell it away: "NO! Bird dude! Don't do it, it's not worth it!"
For awhile we are amused by trying to skip rocks off the slurry. But we are quickly bored and flee, fearing that some sort of swamp beast will emerge from the filthy waves and pull us in, like it tried with the seagull.
What follows could be best described as a quiet night in with friends enjoying intelligent debate, well-aged wine and friendly reminiscence.
I'm spending today in with my brother watching discovery channel and playing WoW. I think this is definitely my favourite part of being back here.
Missed all y'all.
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