3 Days In 1? – Who loves ya, baby? 

 

Day Six: Today was mainly spent recovering from a hangover round at my cousin’s house with her and her friends. After breakfast at Java on Queen Street West, we headed back to her apartment and kicked back for a while. It appears that it was Will Smith Day on the sci-fi channel as Men In Black 2 (I’m down with anything that features Rosario Dawson) was on followed by Independence Day.

 

I also got to see ‘A Shot Of Love’ on MTV. I’m still a little lost for words, as it goes. Sure, it’s a freakshow and it says little of what we as human beings have done to make a mark in the universe, but it’s fucking funny. There was a fight at the end of the episode, too which made a good programme great, when a dude - who was clearly unbalanced - asserted that Tila Tequila had broken his heart and proceeded to start brawling with all the other contestants. Wow. After watching that I felt like a defector from the Eastern Bloc –

 

“Comrade – I am very much liking your MTV with his bisexual dating show and your American candy – Howyousay – Jolly Rancher…”

 

I also felt a little dirty.

    

Day Seven – I spent the day strolling again today. After a trek around Spadina I decided to head over to Queen Street West, where I posted up in – yup, you guessed – The Second Cup and did some storyboarding for a couple of hours. After that I shot over to The Eaton Centre. I wasn’t entirely sure which way I was going at first – I took the half hour scenic route instead of the ten minute direct one – but my ability to locate a branch of Foot Locker within a 30 mile radius (That’s my mutant power, see?) paid off in the end.  

Up until today, I hadn’t really experienced The Cold.

 

I mean it was cold, but not Cold.

 

Damn.

 

If you’d told me in the morning before I left the house that I would kill for a pair of ear-muffs by late afternoon, I would have laughed in your face.

 

By 4PM, if someone had handed me a pair of pink My Little Pony ear-muffs, complete with horsey ears I would have taken their hand off to get them.

 

I met up with my uncle at The Rex at Queen & St. Patrick and ended up watching the Richard Whiteman Trio tear it up on piano double bass and drums while we got into some serious newshound drinking. Back to back rum and cokes, before we took it around the corner for dinner at Asian Legend (That place is too dope. Home of the best gyoza on the planet). After that, we headed across town to see if N’Awlins jazz bar was open as my uncle wanted me to check out a guy he knows named Brook (“He’s a bad, baaaad guitar player…”) Finding it shut, we headed back out to the sticks, where I could sleep it off and re-group for tomorrow.

   

Day Eight – After a trip to the barbers to get sharp, it was once again, into the urban sprawl, my dear friends. It wasn’t too cold today – well not as bitter as yesterday, for starters, and that made it a little easier to get around. I dropped into Lounge on John to see if they had their new stock in yet (Not until tomorrow) and hit up some more book shops. All that strolling will make a man thirsty. There was only one place I could go. That’s right. The Second Cup on Queen Street and John. I’m known in there now. Before I even had the chance to order, the guy behind the counter offered “Medium White Hot Chocolate, right?” You’ve gotta love it.

 

After watching the world go by for a minute, I rang my uncle to see where he was – he was editing a story he’d just finished filming about a circus school – and he told me to meet him at The Rex. For those of you who don’t know the place, it reminds me of the place that the lawyers congregate at when they’re not litigating or navel gazing in Ally McBeal, what with the after work jazz sets. Only cooler.

 

I had been there a while when Mr. C bowled in. He seems so at home in this bar and around the people in it that I’m beginning to think that he was born in the wrong decade – He’s the consummate jazz cat. Perhaps his proper time was in the 1930’s when the movement was just starting out.  More rum. And some food. Last night was the first time I have ever eaten a pound of chicken wings. If it wasn’t for the health implications, I could get used to that…

 

My uncle had arranged to meet a jazz enthusiast friend of his at The Rex, and when she turned up she had a friend of her’s in tow. He was called Bob. Now, Bob seemed quite an affable chap – full of stories from his native California. Come to find out that Bob is the musical director for The Temptations and invited me to their show in London in March.

 

Shiiiiit. Let’s do this, Brutus.

 

I’ll be more than happy to throw on a suit and jam to some classics in a posh setting.

 

After more rum and Irish coffees, we headed over to N’Awlins to check out a piano player called Robbie who my uncle spoke highly of and to meet up with the daughter of my mum’s best friend. For two hours we sat at the bar, vibing to the music – Uncle Jojo was not wrong – Robbie and the band killed it. They got into some blues as well, with a harmonica player a little later on.

 

Come 9PM, it was time to head back. We dropped Adwoa off and then headed down the highway again. We were back home within an hour. I passed out midway through writing this and had to finish the following morning.

 

Photos to follow….