She almost kicked that pigeon. The bird almost bought the farm. It doesn’t know how close it came to pushing up the daisies. Mortality on the street. Front Street. St. Lawrence Market. The market of bird death, possibly, for the bird that is. Pepsi, cops and guys in suits. Suits me. Search me. The popular artform of the 21st Century. Twenty one centuries, can you believe it? Taking up space. Taking a table. A lost opportunity. An opportunity stretched past its profitability. Profit margins. Marginal bagels and coffee. Americano to be exact. Coffee doesn’t cut it anymore. Cutting coffee. Laughable. Reflective vest carrying Tim Horton’s coffee looking into the Star Bucks. Seeing how the other half lives? Reflective vests, the uniform of the working class? Made visible for whom? Visible yet invisible. Doozers. The man across the street – actually in the meridian – has gone through a whole spectrum of emotions while sitting by himself. What does his map of Toronto look like?
Totally early. Figures. Hate being late loss of control losing it missing out. Shoes cello urban mix high power big money high pressure well-delineated performance confidence perfect masks surgically fixed. Ads as headlines. Turn it up!
Solitary man has moved. Hovering around the empty police car. Skirting danger? Unlocks his bike. Takes expensive juice from his carryon. Complexity. Questions. Tweed suit jackets beside me. Uniform of old business? …Ride the Hippo? I would have liked to have been in on that marketing pitch meeting. The “hippest way to see Toronto?” That remains to be seen but it would sure identify you as NOT from Toronto. Blue collared shirts and black pants. The casual business uniform. All young guys. Architects? Designers? Oilfield engineers? Publishers? Not-for-profit charity? Anarchists? The new literati working to tear down the old institutions? Disciples of the New World Order? …60s quote: “The police are here to maintain disorder.” From this seat (generic vinyl wicker) outside the Star Bucks (generic pretentious coffee/culture station) outside St. Lawrence Market I see a lot of order. Organized by material worth and decided/designed by comparatively few.
In a purely monetary return for investment sense, I am disappointed by the G20 spectacle. After investing how many billions of dollars, all we got was ONE burnt police car and some broken windows? We could have draped High Park in orange cellophane for less and it might have been better.
Oooh, a beautiful vintage 1968 Jaguar just pulled up. I freely admit, I would have sex with that car. The owners pulled up and went into the Star Bucks. Their performance of their enlightened taste in cars seems incongruous with their taste in coffee. Oh, they are sitting next to me, I need to type quieter.
Totally early. Figures. Hate being late loss of control losing it missing out. Shoes cello urban mix high power big money high pressure well-delineated performance confidence perfect masks surgically fixed. Ads as headlines. Turn it up!
Solitary man has moved. Hovering around the empty police car. Skirting danger? Unlocks his bike. Takes expensive juice from his carryon. Complexity. Questions. Tweed suit jackets beside me. Uniform of old business? …Ride the Hippo? I would have liked to have been in on that marketing pitch meeting. The “hippest way to see Toronto?” That remains to be seen but it would sure identify you as NOT from Toronto. Blue collared shirts and black pants. The casual business uniform. All young guys. Architects? Designers? Oilfield engineers? Publishers? Not-for-profit charity? Anarchists? The new literati working to tear down the old institutions? Disciples of the New World Order? …60s quote: “The police are here to maintain disorder.” From this seat (generic vinyl wicker) outside the Star Bucks (generic pretentious coffee/culture station) outside St. Lawrence Market I see a lot of order. Organized by material worth and decided/designed by comparatively few.
In a purely monetary return for investment sense, I am disappointed by the G20 spectacle. After investing how many billions of dollars, all we got was ONE burnt police car and some broken windows? We could have draped High Park in orange cellophane for less and it might have been better.
Oooh, a beautiful vintage 1968 Jaguar just pulled up. I freely admit, I would have sex with that car. The owners pulled up and went into the Star Bucks. Their performance of their enlightened taste in cars seems incongruous with their taste in coffee. Oh, they are sitting next to me, I need to type quieter.
The One True Dave 
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