Zach’s post about the G20 kinda freaked me out a bit. Not about the clampdown on the city or anything, I think that’ll be a riot. My main concern is the volume of simultaneous stuff that’ll be happening, and the lack of bodies to attend. Last year I got a request to cover Caribana so I spent the whole day wriggling through a million people in the blistering heat. I had to miss about three other things that day, three things within my highly limited scope of “what’s happening”.

This year the city’s shipping in Euro-crazies for the summer, doing a mayoral throw-down, plus all the other usual seasonal stuff that’s supposed to happen. It’s all a bit overwhelming.

One day at a time.

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Have you noticed any changes around here lately, dear reader? I’ve slowly been sneaking stuff onto the site…that TwitPic flip book at the top of the front page, TCLand (current to August 2009, but now there’s Caribana :( ), TCL by Month, the Tumblr site for picture junkies (occasionally with exclusive stuff), various shuffles, re/moves, and additions.

And I’ve added paid advertising. For realsies this time. It’s high time I try to do this thing fulltime because, if I may be honest, a year and a half in I love this blogging thing more than my first day. I entirely agree with most ad networks’ policies that I shouldn’t be asking you to click on any ads. It’s crass, a justifiable reason to get booted off the ad network, and you being the intelligent person you are make the sole and conscious decision to interact with any advertising that appears on this site. I wouldn’t insult you like that.

In order to be entirely transparent about my reasoning behind this effort, you should understand that any revenue that TCL generates goes directly toward helping me pay rent, eat, pay for hosting fees, and all that other stuff that requires money.

Generally speaking, revenue on sites and blogs is generated through the sale of ads, many of which pay when they’re occasionally clicked on. In effect, a a simple click on an ad ends up, via various channels, supporting the site on which it appears. In a very indirect way, the site that loads when a viewer clicks is providing financial assistance to the site carrying the ad. I like to think of this as the credits at the end of a PBS program. Hope you find this information useful.

So yes, I’m selling ad space and I’m getting something together where folks can actually invest in the blog — the idea is for these investments to accrue in value over time (if you believe TCL will accrue value over time, that is), and I’m going to try to get prices down to as low as a buck a pop — $1 – so it might be affordable for you too. I’ll explain how it works later, hopefully it’ll make so much sense that it’ll make your head explode.

But wait, there’s more!

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The general consensus on this seems to be: when it gets its own Ministry of Silly Walks.

The fact that is was cloudy and kinda misty and foggy on Saturday was so apropos.

That little pot rally that happened at Yonge-Dundas Square about a week ago was basically just practice for the main event, the Global Marijuana March and Freedom Festival. The point of the march, as far as I can fathom it, is to demonstrate the futility of existing pot prohibitions. It originally started as a grass roots (haha!) movement but now, well, the word “festival” is appropriate if you ask me. Even if you’re completely against anything marijuana, you must admit that arresting everyone simply wouldn’t be practical. Maybe even possible.

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You heard me…

Newstalk 1010 is starting to grow on me again.

The downtown AM radio station was part of my regular morning schedule. I’d wake up, shove an energy drink into my face, and get good and worked up to Bill Carroll’s latest rant.

As the weekday morning guy, Bill was on top of local topics before most people, and he’d always deliver them with an abundance of vociferous opinion. Sometimes he’d be so wrong that I’d have to stand up in protest. At other times Bill would say something so accurate and poignant that I’d have to rise in support. Either way I’d be out of bed and into my day with a tank full of caffeine and indignation.

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Wheels are in motion.

I spent this afternoon pushing thumbtacks into all sort of surfaces around the local Universities in an attempt to lure writers, photographers, artists, and fellow bloggers to TCL. It’s time for this blog to start spreading its wings a little.

I’ll be keeping my hands as dirty as usual around here (posts / photos / etc.), but I firmly believe that the potential for TCL to grow into something more substantial is there. And I don’t think I can get there alone.

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I don’t believe I’ve ever done more than one post in a day on TCL — this one is too short to feel satisfying so something will have to follow.

Bit of an unspoken tradition with me until I thought … and why? Well, gives me time to go over the photos, research, etc. But darned if I didn’t come across the neatest thing the other day. Neat enough to make me question.

This insightful work was produced by Chris Hutsul out of Kensington Market. Chris was kind enough to provide a gargantuan version of this drawing as well as a close-up of that adorable house centipede in the center.

Mr. Hutsul is obviously a native.

You know, I really thought that last post about letting your kids wander around alone in a city would’ve been more contentious. Apparently not. Gotta say, the TCL readership is waaaaaay more liberal than I ever could’ve imagined. Cool!

Or you’re still reading. Sorry, it was kinda long. I’ll do my best to keep this one lighter.

Nothing much to say anyway. The Music Garden is supposed to communicate through other senses.

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Generally speaking, that’s a good rule. I usually just smile and ignore, but I was sucked into this one. Why? I offered my seat to a kid. Oi.

Two brothers, I dunno, ten and and eleven, were escorted to the back of the streetcar where I was sitting, by their dad. He sat them down and suddenly realized he’d forgotten to get transfers. The one kid was buzzing to look out the back of the car and he kneeled on the empty seat between me and the matronly, scraggly-haired woman on the other end. His dad sat him back down. Guess he thought the kid would be pestering us.

There were two empty seats across from me – the back  is a half-circle facing each other – so I offered to give the kid my seat. I knew the dad would want to sit with the kids anyways (correctomundo, btw), so I thought the kid might as well have a few seconds of fun gazing out the back of the streetcar. I loved looking out through the front of subway cars when I was young, so I get it. And I honestly didn’t see the harm. The boy was polite, he was obeying his dad, he was keeping his feet off the seats, backpack neatly to the side – damn if that kid didn’t deserve an ice cream sundae!

So shit, peeking through a greasy, filth-covered window for ten seconds seemed appropriate for a young man of that calibre.

Offered it to him twice. Twice he refused.

Scraggly-hair to my left says, “good for you!”, to him. “You listen to your dad!”

Okay, guess she had a point. But you know, not like he’s gonna roll up his sleeve, tie off a vein, and start hitting the dragon back there. Plus, potential weirdo ends up in a seat farther away from the kids. Where would be the downside?

Dad came back, seat gladly accepted. The opportunity was gone.

Oh well, the kid did refuse. And that should’ve been the end of it.

Scraggly-hair pointed at the kids and said to the dad, “You shouldn’t leave them alone like that here. This isn’t a safe neighbourhood.”

Internally, I begged to differ. Oddballs? Painful piercings? Imaginative body modifications? Yes, yes, and yes. Dangerous? No. But, this was still just between her and the three of them. :)

The dad replied, “I teach my sons well and they know how to handle themselves.”

The buzzing kid popped erect, beaming a smile, and immediately added, “We take the streetcar by ourselves all the time. We walk home, we take the subways, we take the buses. I know what to do if I get lost. On this streetcar, if I got lost, I would get off at St. Andrew Station and …”

It went on for another five minutes with the other boy interjecting excitedly in sporadic bursts to further heighten the tales of their prowess. The dad finally stopped them when they got on the subject of late-night taxi rides (if only he’d let them look out the window).

“You never know who’s around them down here. All sorts of people”, responded scraggly-hair after a short pause. “It’s just not safe.”

Then she looked over at me. For fucks’ sake!!

“I didn’t mean to imply that you’re a criminal”, she explained sheepishly.

Steady, old boy, I thought to myself. Not a problem, a broad smile and that’ll be my reply. No problem. I never felt myself to be a criminal, so ho harm no foul. And no statement. :)

“But don’t you think it’s dangerous?”, still looking at me. :(

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