I always find something...

Driving into Toronto is always magical to me. It is one of the things I enjoy. I got onto the QEW at around 7:00 pm and made my trek into town. When I got onto the Gardiner, I loved watching the sun beginning to set on a city I am incredible fond of. 

Maybe I am so fond of the city due to childhood memories on Hoyle Avenue in Toronto at my Uncle's house. Subconsciously though the one's I have forgot too. Also, my Aunt lived right off Yonge Street too, so I have even more recollections of Toronto. 

Driving up Jarvis is always fun. Especially, seeing my Aunt's old teaching grounds at Jarvis Collegiate. 

As stated in my previous post I did get that Bellroy wallet I wanted. 

My older sibling requested a vinyl frame from Sonic Boom. I eventually made my way to that shop. The old location on Bloor was so much better than its new residence on Bathurst at Honest Ed's. How long it will be there, when Honest Ed's is sold, remains to be a question. I suppose it is important to own your own building when you're a shop. 

Regardless, of that digression. Whenever I am in Toronto, I always make a stop at the BMV. Many times at Balfour Books too. Also, that downstairs stairway Book store near BMV and Book City too.

I drove down some nifty street with stellar homes and parked my gas guzzling Ford Explorer Sport Trac. I made my way onto Bloor towards the BMV. 

For once, I took some photographs. Not the best but they're above.

I still have not been able to find a hard cover copy of "The Grapes Of Wrath" by John Steinbeck or "Slaughter House Five" by Kurt Vonnegut. I did my quick glance over to the Gabriel Garcia Marquez section. Then my usual walk down to the letter H. 

There I went looking at Joseph Heller, no hard copies of his sequels to "Catch 22." Phenomenal novel by the way. I remember laughing in some sections of it. I never laugh while reading a book. It was such a solid form of literature. If you have not read it, yet. 

Anyways, the "H" section means only one name to me. Yes I did look at the Heller section. H to be signifies: Ernest "Fucking" Hemingway. I looked at the titles left to right, and then right to left. Very peculiar I said to myself inside my head (as you don't want to look crazy saying that out loud). "For Whom The Bell Tolls" eh, in hard cover, looking rather ravishing old. I flipped through it, expecting  some shitty 1970, 1980 or 1990 copy. Hmm (I said again inside my head) as I reached the page, 1940. No reprinted at such and such date. Nineteen fucking forty! World War Two was still in its early stages. 

I picked up my favourite Ernest Hemingway book. I went looking for a hard cover of: "The Shipping News" by Annie Proulx, to no avail. Then made a dash for John Le Carre, and tragically no old books of his either. Only newer ones that I did not like. Ever since his New York Times Magazine piece in the Sunday New York Times, I have craved an old book by him.

Call of The Dead is one of them I am looking for. 

The best part of the Sunday New York Times is the photography. Man I love it. It inspires me. A lot of things do, and its funny when people don't know they have done so. I always find something to take from someone. Not like you know being a klepto, but, something they have taught, liked or done to inspire me. 

Back to the Toronto thing. I don't live in Toronto. However, it has always felt like home. Boy do I love going into that city. 

One of my goals is to ride a bicycle on Toronto Island. The actual streets in Toronto would scare the fuck out of me too much. I don't feel like being hit by a car and I think bicycle helmets are lame. 

I always remember walking to get my press pass on Queen Street West and seeing my friend that lent me his Nikon D80, and helped start to my love affair with photography, little did they know that a simple gesture they did would inspire me. Anyhow, it was wild chance that I would see them on the street in Toronto. 

Usually, when I am in the city of Toronto, I always see someone from my past. The "wallet / book / vinyl frame night" was no different. I saw this Morgan lady I used to know, but she didn't see me. It wasn't that I was using an invisibility cloak, we just passed each other and they didn't notice me. I wouldn't have said anything anyways as they are in my past. My past is dead to me. The future is all I see.