Sometime this week I will be leaving this wretched city… For the next few weeks; or until the “plan” is finally hatched I have decided to park myself in Brockville. The genesis of the idea for this move was my freaky rooming-house land-lady kicking me out after deciding I gave her a bad vibe. If anyone has any thoughts on this bad vibe of mine, please fill me in.
Bad vibe, from criminey-sakes! What the hell is that? I mean if she had told me she didn’t like seeing me wandering drowsily to and from the toilet in the middle of the night dressed only in my dirty old gich; OR if she had told me that the rotting half a roast of lamb left over from a wonderful Easter dinner with my folks she found in the vegetable crisper in the fridge had bothered her; OR if she had been offended by some offhanded political comments I may have made while she was ranting on in her oh so smug left-leaning never-ending commentary about her oh so interesting life in this oh so dreary town… I might have determined to try to rectify the situation; plead my case and tried to stay on. As it played out, she told me of my vibe problems; I responded simply “OK” and went about my normal business. I have decided that her “6 weeks of knowing me” critique of my vibe was about as meaningful an opinion on my “vibe” as say the opinions expressed by the cab driver who drove me home from one of any number of bars I frequented last month. I remain confident that my vibe is just fine but, perhaps over prudently, I will keep my mind open to the concept that perhaps my vibe could use a bit of fine-tuning.
Although I have played out a number of scenarios, I will not seek revenge for this attack on my vibe; I will not call the City of Toronto’s Tenants Association to inquire on the validity of “vibe related” evictions; I will not seek out the services of the City of Toronto’s building department to report an un-permitted renovation to her bathroom; nor will I flip her a finger and make some reference to the fact that she’s just an old dried out bitch-hag who has sunken too deeply into this self-delusional idea that this house of hers is some kind of “international creative person’s oasis in the sea of an uncaring corporate driven city of un-feeling doom”… I will settle on the best revenge being my continuing to live vibrantly.
So, I move out of the Baden Street room and into the small town of Brockville Ontario. The small town of Brockville has become my family’s un-official hometown. I was not raised there, but my Aunt Sue the official Matriarch of my family raised her seven children there, we visited often. Also after an almost 36 year tradition of Thanksgiving dinners in the great old house by the river… Being in Brockville always feels like a homecoming. The fact that it’s on the St. Lawrence River… I will not get into that here.
My last visit to the small town of Brockville was two weekends ago. Upon that visit I was reminded that my cousin Doug who sails with his brother, my cousin John had secured his own boat for the racing season and would no longer be sailing with my cousin John. An opening; at the time it was wishful thinking that I could fill it. After all traveling from Toronto to Brockville every Tuesday and Thursday and most weekends would not only be time consuming, but also cost me $188 return each time I did it. My bad vibe to the rescue! It would seem after this eviction, I could not come up with one single reason to continue to live in the City of Toronto. Yo, bitch Land Lady, thanks for the invitation to spend a few weeks sailing with my cousin John.
I’m pretty pumped about this move to a small town. I grew up in a small town, and it’s been a while since I spent more than a weekend in a small town. Perhaps it will help in our future plans to live in an even smaller town. We’ll see what comes of it.
Right now; I’m gathering up my gear here. I’ll see if this experience generates anything remotely interesting enough to post here. At the very least, I will post our race results each Tuesday and Thursday and the occasional weekend we do the regattas.
