Queen Street West….
When I skipped school; two hour bus ride from Orillia. 14 years old. Hair down to my waist. Pimples on my chin. Dressed like a mod. Black turtle neck. Red Kilt. Knee Socks and Docs. It was 1990. There were punks everywhere. Egg white filled mohawks. Studded Bracelet’s. Dirty clothes. And there was Much Music; the temple of my adolescent dreams. Erica Ehm introducing Depeche Mode videos; learning to dance to Electric Circus. Queen Street was scary, massive, full of fear and excitement. I felt that this was the nexus of the universe. Everything happened here.
Now I live here; but on King. The Queen’s less exciting and somewhat conservative husband.
But, I always walk up to Queen. To experience that feeling. The rushy high of walking down Queen WEST WEST. Where there is an uneasy convergence of yuppies, dogs, addicts, artists, 905ers shopping, skateboarders, squirrels, the mentally ill, sex workers, pigeons, rollerbladers and rock stars all trying to maneuver around each-other. Not stare, not piss each-other off, draw attention, not draw attention. Flirting, screaming, eating running, texting, watching, drinking out of coffee cups or paper bags.
For nine years I have lived here; watching the Gentrification Freight Train push down the street from University to Bathurst. Last night I had a drink at a new restaurant and remembered the massive gallery that used to be there. I walked home and remembered when I couldn’t walk home at all five years ago. Five years ago, Johns would pull over asking for my ‘service’. No more. Now there are hipsters making out. Stinking drunk after their debauchery on Ossington. 905ers flagging cabs after a night of posing at the what they believe is the new sickest bar.
But it’s true. Everything has happened here. On Queen I met the love of my life who hid his horrible coke addiction from me for months. I cried my way home on Queen trying to break my addiction to him. I had my most successful solo show. I had wild and unpredictable jobs in restaurants and bars that catered to Baby Brokers, Mafia, Escorts and Rosedale Glitterati tables away from each-other. I solidified most of my closest friendships at art openings and industry parties in lofts and back alleys. I became desensitized to human suffering; and over-sensitized to my surroundings.
This morning, with groceries, I walked home down Queen, as I always do. Because it’s more exciting, more fascinating, more dangerous. And even though I could quietly walk down King; I never do. I walk an extra block north; so I can walk down Queen; because anything could happen and it everything always does.
love,
a secret admirer
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