Stephen and I went to Toronto for dinner tonight. We got into the city rather early for dinner and went on a bit of a wander, hitting music and bookstores as a way to pass time ’til we were ready for food. Walking around the city reminded what I loved about Toronto, and reminded me of an article written by Spider Jerusalem in his column “I Hate It Here” (from Warren Ellis’ brilliant comic, Transmetropolitan):
When I last lived in this City, I was considered an Eligible Bachelor. Women would hurl themselves at my feet without my having to drug them first.
But now I am Old. Pieces of my body are moving around. I am no longer Pretty. Gravity tugs at my ass, my paunch and my painfully heavy testicles. I have not had sex in more than three years. When I finally do torture, medicate or hypnotize someone into manipulating my bits, the police will find our remains blasted into the walls by ballistic semen.
And I am forced to endure this in a city where I can fall in love eighty times a day just by stepping out on to the street and opening my eyes.
You will all pay.
Okay, so women never hurled themselves at my feet. And I’m not so nearly desperate as Spider sounds in his diatribe. But the bit about being able to fall in love eighty times a day just by stepping out on to the street and opening your eyes? That’s Toronto.
By the way, if you haven’t read Transmet, all the writing is that damn good. Go read it now.