storied truths

here are the stories that i heard from podcasts that keep swirling around my mind:

from death, sex and money: in one of the student loan episodes, a woman talks about how she had to default in her loans and her dad eventually committed suicide because he couldn’t handle her debt. now, as horrible as that is, i couldn’t help but wonder what their relationship was like, and maybe daddy was just looking for a way out, or he was super passive-aggressive and finally taught her a money lesson that she would never forget.

from love + radio: i was touched by how disgusting and petty people are-from the guy who clipped his toenails into his roommates’ food because they asked him not to eat it, or the girl who discovered masturbating with her dad’s electric toothbrush-“…and because he knew what a vagina smelled and tasted like….he finally discovered why the battery was always out”.


from open run: because the playoffs were so boring, jesse and stefan took to talking about what they’re watching on netflix and other news stories. i can’t get over the dood that sued his date for $17.31 (plus pizza) because she was texting during guardians of the galaxy 2, breaking the rules of the theatre, and, also civil society. but really, his fragile male ego was bruised because she left him stranded at the theatre because he told her to text outside.

37 years old and sounds like an amaaaaazing date. i don’t know why no one has snapped him out yet.

which leads me to the podcast that’s been everything to me the last couple of days-the heart.

i know i’m late, but i can’t stop. it started with aliya‘s interview with caitlin on the imposter, and then i had to see for myself, not just the no series, but every other episode.

consent. confronting abusers. inheritance. losing yourself in a relationship. what’s love got to do with it?

everything, i tell you. every last thing.


#68-#71 westsiiide library tour

it was a beauty-full morning to continue this library tour. this time, the ipod that was kindly gifted to me by nadia came in handy, as i uncharacteristically left my library book in my locker at work. humber bay was my first stop, the one that belongs to this beauty-full shot. as an aside-i don’t know what my telephone has been trying to tell me lately, but it dying precipitated the scribble-heavy renditions of the other magnificent buildings that i visited on this leg of the tour. it was a small branch tastefully streamlined in dark wood, with a pronounced polish section and the promise of lovely afternoon sun. i listened to lynda barry talk about her latest book at the philly free library as i waited for the bus, and maybe that’s the true motivation behind the drawing. my next stop was the mimico branch, and here’s where i have to send my shoutouts to the handy signs that point us to the libraries around town. i liked the brick alcove of community postings on the way in, and the upstairs gallery space. their LTR (shoutout to my second kid, and the one that dumped me) book reviews are written on little alarm clocks under the title reads worth our time. it reminded me of the reading keys we used to do in grade four. i read in a window seat for a minute before i set back onto the road. i passed many magnificent homes, ignatieff endorsements, catholic schools (in both official languages) row on row, and many signs advertising available AGO passes. i took a wrong bus, but i was now listening to the radiolab podcast of writers discussing inspiration and genius from within and without, and natasha was the kind bus driver that lived up to the reputation of helping a few of us find our way. i walked over the bridge and kept on walking, flirting with the idea of asking for directions in the kung fu school, but instead asked a kind man in a parka, who confirmed my instinct. the new toronto branch is a structure to behold, and i was welcomed with nice beams, big windows, plush seats and the very lynda barry book that i was just listening about. so, of course i had to add it to my mounting pile of dvds, which they still keep in slips like they used to do at the used cd stores. it was there that i was able to get on the innernets and still try to stoke the fires of a plan of slow dancing (alas and alack). from there, i decided to walk to the long branch, and it was like walking in a semi-ghost town (not a lot of pedestrians out west). it was dusty and i was able to put a face to humber‘s name. i almost expected a tumbleweed as i passed the texan greek (or is it the greek texan?) and i took the enthusiastic suggestion that i sample some free homemade hummus and pita from baba ali as i walked along the lakeshore. the final library was one of the newest, built in 1954, and it’s modern with the kind of lighting and chairs that i want for my own home. i passed the latest MJB album in sheet music form on my way to read magazines for a spell. i jumped on the streetcar on the way home, and it made the trek seem not so long.

i am my father’s son-dan hill

“Like so many highly driven people, Dad was a different man outside the home than he was with us. A man can only have so much charm, his reservoir of diplomacy and playful cajoling can only run so deep. Did my transformation into a brooding, withdrawn teenager contribute to Dad’s frequent ill temper when he arrived home? Or was it the other way around? All I know is that my moods were in constant lockstep with Dad’s, my antennae expertly tuned to his emotions whenever he marched through our front door. I may have been resentful of Dad’s power over me, but because our home felt complete, safe and far more stimulating when Dad was around, I longed for his presence. Even as I hated it.” (169)