Friday. Downtown, Dundas and Yonge. Christmas shopping. Crowded. I play dodge the exchange
student as I exit the subway HMV is on sale. I pick up an $8.99 Christmas  cd that says Beach Boys harmonies.  I remember hearing somthing acapella from them a few years back at my older brothers house. I ask the knowledgable  reps (ex Sam's employees you know them - the older classical expert who never had the time of day for you and the white haired hippie who never looks like he had a day of worry in his life) on the 3rd floor.

"The  Beach Boys never did anything acapella." he tells me. I hand him the cd and tell him to file it under B.

Okie dokie. Lunch at Panera's where 1/2 sandwich, a small bowl of tomato soup, apple, and a bottle of water cost you twelve bucks. But they do it with a smile on their face and that's the key.

Movie decision. I'm down here so I might as well. I decide on Fury. A friend and I had had an internet exchange (in which we whine about the pathetic state of war movies.  All flash and no substance.) He had seen a bootlegged copy of the film and wasn't impressed. So I, hoping to continue the argument (and  with time on my hands)decide to check it out.

There are twenty, maybe thirty people. Mainly guys, and a broad range at that. Yippy young students and out of work schlubs, who like myself, are killing time. The listing says 145. I have been there since 140pm and by the time the movie starts (2:03) I have watched 20 minutes worth of commercials, several warnings to turn off my cel, and five minutes of previews. If i had a cel I would throw it at the f...ing screen and tell them to get on with it.

What did Ogilvy say about captive audiences? You finally got what you wanted.

Lights go down. The kids are yippy but amazingly quiet down for the big event.  Movie finally comes on. A singular tank in an abandoned farm field. A white horse. Pull out. A German official of some rank. Brad Pitt (and for all intents and purposes lets call him Fury) engages the officer in combat. Kills him ugly (takes his eye balls out) and then lets the horse go free. It's obvious where his loyalties lie.  Brad does not like Germans.

Back inside the tank. We are introduced to the crew. Three living, one dead. These boys have been through hell. They kibbitz, get on each other's nerves. But they love each other man.

It's a great first hour. But then at the epiphany point sags under its own weight. Who is Pitt but a contradiction. What is this sudden obligation to be nice to the German women. Women and horses are off limits. A showdown between the men. Nothing comes of it.

Called into action.

I check the IMDB to seee who directed this little mess. It's David Ayers.  I have felt a similar loss of focus in his other films. Training Day.Wherein he starts out with great bravado and timing then gets bogged down in the weight of its own premise.

Watch it if you can, on dvd or streaming device and come up with your opinion.

Waiting for Neil to arrive. A slight review of Journeys

 Now the people that know me, know that I love Neil. Though I have tired of his act in the past ten  years, he is still owed a debt for the tremendous contribution he made to the modern music scene. So with that in mind, I  Went to see the new Neil Young, Jonathan Demme doc at the Bloor Cinema last night. What a disappointment. Self indulgent and badly made it was essentially a record of the concert he did at Massey in 2011.

This hippie twaddle mainly focused on  songs from La Noise performed solo at Massey, complimented by inserted B roll  inserted, sporadically at best, of Neil driving from Omemee to Toronto

I was hoping for more. Like Neil articulating something about his past and something about his present. Something about the journey. Nothing. Nada. Neil is still hiding behind his gruff anti-social "you'll never know me" persona.

I think Demme likes Neil a little too much, and lacks the objectivity necessary to make a document of any lasting value.

This thing is bad. Thrown together, unfocused. And on a purely technical level,  who the hell's idea was shoving the camera on the mic stand that provided the extreme close ups  of  Neil's nostrils and fillings.

 It's time Neil got someone he trusts to stand up to him and say simply - people want to know Neil.
Maybe there's nothing to tell. Or maybe Neil is holding out to write his own Chronicles like opus.  One can only hope.

And if Neil read this he would probably say it's none of your f...ing business.

Other reviews.

http://www.thestar.com/entertainment/music/article/962301--neil-young-take-a-look-at-his-life

http://www.theglobeandmail.com/arts/film/film-reviews/neil-young-journeys-a-solemn-affair-kinda-like-the-singer-himself/article4410643/

Whitney Rose at the Cameron

Went downtown for a little head clearing on Tuesday night. Wound up at the Cameron and was treated to two great sets by PEI native Whitney Rose. She's a young thing with a wonderful voice (check out her YouTube videos) who knows her country inside out. There is a good blend of originals and country covers in the set. When was the last time someone sang you some Kitty Wells?

The best part was the all-star band - David Baxter on guitar, Bazil Donovan pounding out the bass line, and Devon Cuddy (Jim and Rena's son) tickling the ivories.

Don't know what the line up will be, but Ms. Rose is going to be there for the rest of the month. Check her out before she heads to Nashville.


Some video from her CD release that I shot for my Corner Stool website:

Hey Say, Ray Robertson

Tuesday. Out and about. I've been in the apartment all day, watching and reading content about AODA. The N has not checked in. She has decided to cold shoulder me. After Sunday's "I don't want to do this anymore" I figure we need a cooling period.


Need to get out. Ray Robertson launch at the Garrison. I've never been to the Garrison, but I've heard good things. I.e. Next hotspot!!!! Ding, ding, ding.


I go to the Jane library to return/pick up a couple of books. I have held onto them for too long...Hit Man, by Larwrence Block, a book on writing (useless) by Lawrence Block, and a Rolling Stone magazine chord book "Great Hits of the Seventies." I have not learned any of the songs. Gone now, returned. I must forget them.


Two for pick up: Carrying Place (Humber River) and the Woody Allen film with Larry David. The Humber river book is big and not the one I thought it was. However it scares me. Picture book! Oh oh! There goes idea 987, www.awalkalongthehumber.com. I left it there but will go back and pick it up tonight.


Get me to the bus. A 35 Jane with "Not in service" picks up me and another girl at Jane and Dundas. I thank the driver. It's the least I can do.


Subway, transfer. Bus. Ossington and Dundas. I decide to eat. Since it really isn't a cheap row these days I decide on the Vietnamese Noodles. I head to the Golden Turtle. Glowing reviews in the front window, albeit eight years old. No one at the front door so I sit down at a table for four. The owner seems upset...


"You by yourself?"


"Uh huh."


"You sit in window."


I hate window seats. Me like privacy.


"Uh no."


"This table for four."


The restaurant has 20 tables. Three are occupied. It's 6:30pm. I counter offer.


"I tell you what, if it fills up before I leave, I move."


A glass of hot water arrives on my table. Is this the Vietnamese equivalent of "go fuck yourself, I am about to piss in your soup."


Within 2 minutes a couple of girls arrive and dutifully take the front table. Some people just want to be seen I guess. I pore over the menu, decide on the chef special "Hot Chicken and Vegetable." $8.50. Not bad. I ask for cold water, twice. I figure I have been marked. The soup arrives. Post haste, chop chop.


It's great. I'm sweating about half way through the bowl. I contemplate asking for a doggy container, but don't feel like carrying it around all night.


I head down to Queen. Which is a big mistake, because the Garrison is on Dundas, however I don't realize that until I make it to the Gladstone. The newly renovated Gladstone. I had a beer here last week and was under-impressed. But hey, progress, it happens to all things eventually.


Back up old Dufferin to Dundas and East to the Garrison. Wonderful layout. I head to the back, lots of writers and wannabes such as myself mingle about. The soup still weighs heavy on my stomach. I order my prop, a Molson Stock. $4.75.  At least I leave her the quarter. The next guy up ( a writer I presume) orders a beer and anxiously grabs his change off the bar.


So much for his grant coming through.


There is no one in the room I recognize. Not even "the usual suspects" from other readings. Wait! There's my instructor from my U of T writing course. I forget his name, but remember his back story. He is from Ottawa like me and lived near Brookfield.


I quit his course after I realized that I had told him all the characters in my fiction.


Next time I'll keep my mouth shut.

I find a comfortable perch at the end of the bar  but keep getting squeezed out by people who want drinks (imagine that.) I head to the other end. A troll like man, who I seem to recognize keeps staring at me. He is writing feverishly in his notebook. I want to pull out my camera and take a picture for him but decide to let it pass. Perhaps I inspired him. Someone has to.


The reading? In typical fashion begins late. Ray gets up  on stage and reads for a lot less time then promised. Which is okay. I read a Ray Robertson novel once, I can't remember the name or what it was about. Robertson has this typical in your face, I know fucking everything appeal. Which seems to appeal to the crowd.

Too bad about his depression (the inciting incident that motivated his latest opus, 15 Reasons To Live. The book is ordinary. He makes cultural references that I can identify with. Now, I am ten years older, so I wonder if Ray is lying on his website.


His reading ends, his friend from Chatham gets up and starts singing C & W songs. Which is okay, but he's left handed and dis-orients me. I debate having another beer and listening, but I have a quote to write  tomorrow and want to keep my wits and tits about me.


Hey Say Ray! Good luck.


Heading home. 63 Ossington North. The guy is pulling away from the shelter but actually stops when he sees me in the rear view mirror. God Bless you TTC.


I head to High Park then walk to Dundas.  The Axis Grill hosts my favourite open stage and there is always a good chance they will start on time. Wrong. The drum kit is piled high. It's nine o'clock. There is only Blue Jays on the Boob to distract me so I head off on home.


N has not called.

Humber Photography continues

Took advantage of the good weather once more to take some more pics for "A Walk Down the Humber."

Got some good pics as well as an establishing shot. Spent some time with the ducks.

Here's a bit of video shot with the Canon at HD and then compressed.

A Walk Down The Humber

Took the Canon out for a wonderful walk down the Humber yesterday. The weather was hot but tolerable. A perfect summer day. Everything is green, with just slight hints of Autumn a coming. The geese were practicing their landings, the ducks weren't doing much, and the blue cormorants were just sitting around.

Couldn't get close enough to the cormorants to get a decent pic.

Started putting together images for "A Walk Down the Humber". Hopefully get it ready by end of October for Christmas sales.

The dream lives on. To a certain extent.

Make sure to check out the rest of my photography here: