“new ideas need old buildings”-tile at dufferin station

i’ve already been reprimanded this week for spoiling the nba playoffs, so let me not do this to a woman’s show.

but belladonna the blest or dm st. bernard‘s sound of the beast is everything, and then eleven more everythings. do yourself a favour and go see it. please. if one of the city’s finest (the finest imo) poets can roll through (and i think he even bought a ticket because he’s not a personal friend of the inspiration’s), you can too.

ok-psa over, do what you want.

i’ve been feeling the feels since i was in montreal for a week and a half, doing everything and nothing, and with the birth of babies all around and work never ending (and still not beginning), i know it’s not an accident that i ended up in the same room as these two that i run into so randomly it’s become specific. the fact that there was a stage and words and so many ideas layered and folded into ideas that if a mille-feuille crepe cake could be a thing that could be witnessed and absorbed and spoken and felt, this would be that thing.

i’m largely not a fan of the tiles at dufferin station, especially of the two that are close together near the main entrance, one reading “blah blah blah new immigrants” and the other “occasion to turn around”, like wtf?! but i never noticed this one before, or perhaps due to its proximity to the aforementioned as well as the “lemonade living” (and i paraphrase all these tiles, except for the one that i board the train at every day on my way to work which reads “something happens here”, because, well, who has time to footnote tiles, or remember them properly and such?) i’m too busy getting to the punchline of 3/5s when it’s so meta and brilliant, when accountability happens and its calling for is further justified when the perpetrator responds by throwing her kids under the bus. when a discussion about whose lives matter is brought about without the use of those slogans so familiar that have lost their lustre, but is named nonetheless, and stories are woven so beautifully that you forget for a moment that they’re tragic but flower petals are still gentle, whether or not they’re unbreakable, and you decide, we decide-but things are complicated, and we do what we can….

(i’m writing a new piece called “poets talk in circles”….but then again, that’s been the ongoing story of life itself)

place is a thing. theatre passe-muraille is a place. it’s been one of the most reliable places that i have crossed paths with dmsb over the years, and toronto is a place-also one of the most reliable locales. it’s an old building that’s housed almost 50 seasons of new ideas, and even though it’s been fixed, i still just can’t push that door…and i’m glad that i didn’t stay away when the latest ad joined-even when she was the first person to fire me from a job at a little theatre that we both worked at in mtl-what are the chances, right?

but there are no accidents, and (the) space (between our ears) is the real place.

we gotta work on that time-bending piece, but then again-we’ve been working on that project our whole lives.

this is why i scheduled a volunteer shift on my first day back to work after a long vacation of doing everything and nothing, horny as hell but great-full for the life choices i’ve made not to have kids and a dog (though i really, really love dogs and kids). it’s nice to be able to walk in and out of that for a week, because if it was real life, i woulda had to work all day and then go home to single-mother kids and a dog.

this is why.

i live for this and i am ever great-full to this woman for reminding me to do it by doing it.

shoutout to maddie bautista-we may have only met tonight (in this life) but it’s far from over.


the emancipation of ms. lovely-dir. d’bi young anitafrika

“straight up now tell me do you really wanna love me forever”

wow. what a moving piece of theatre. it seems that toronto really does do it best, at least in this department. all of the plays that have truly moved me (prison dancer, pomme, spent, etc.) have happened in this genre, except bloodclaat, and that was only because it was travelling from here. it also seems that this is the only area in which i have seen my votes materialize in the candidates of my choosing-so bigups to everyone for winning the whole summerworks festival, i’m glad i caught the last show (thanks again, l’oquenz).

a kink reunion of sorts, it was really lovely to see ngozi take the spotlight, and d’bi cheering fiercely from the front row. the perfect mix of a singular storyteller (at a time) and cross-generational and cultural experience, this play comes from that hard to get to but worth it place beyond just anger and sadness, but the other side of process.

the set of mirrors was power-full because at any given moment, the character(s) and the audience could see slivers of herself/themselves (for those who still haven’t figured out that not turning off one’s phone during a play is bad manners) which not only represents all of our concurrent selves, but which sides of those selves we choose to share/are open to accept at any given moment.

i had a full circle moment when i got home, when i turned on the life is but a dream set by beyonce and went through a box of mementos. first of all-i will be that man who has been to 22 beyonce shows-but not necessarily for her, but for the artists that keep producing and inspiring and processing. when i first moved here, d.bi’s space used to be in liberty village, and on kamau‘s bday there, l’oquenz complimented me on my acid wash denim dress. six years later, the watah school has materialized and is flourishing in the distillery district, i am based two blocks away from the old school, l’oquenz did the sound for this one and invited me to it, and i rocked my acid wash bag to the performance.

it was lovely to once again run into some beauty-full spirits, and i must state that i feel like we’ve been particularly blessed this summer with the talent and its execution in our gorgeous city.

say her name.