In Praise of Toronto

Nothing serious-- Just a short blurb on how I feel about my city and the varied characters that inhabit it. I've realized the furthest I need to go for inspiration is, ya know, that Outside place.

I'm sitting outside the Eaton Centre, smoking a cigarette. Sitting on the pavement in front of me is a young man with dreadlocks decked out in camo playing an acoustic guitar. Not an uncommon sight in this city, but unexpectedly this guy has a great voice and gives the best rendition of "Heart Shaped Box" I have ever heard. 

A man walks by with a picket sign -- a very average-looking man, not the "END IS NEAR", scruffy-looking Jesus freaks -- and his sign reads: "OSAMA BIN LADEN IS DEAD. WE SHOULD BE PARTYING IN THE STREETS!" Those he passes occasionally let out a jubilant "WOO!" As the busker launches into some other song I'm not familiar with (with equally impressive vocal skill), I look around at various other characters milling around. Mixed-race couple pushing a stroller carrying an adorable-mixed race baby. A security guard stopping to listen to the music (and sharing a lighter with the performer). Expensive cars, s**t-boxes, streetcar, multitudes on bikes.

Taking all of this in, I smile and for the millionth time, realize I love my city... And Toronto is just that- my city. I wasn't born here, I've spent only a few years here, but I'm at home more than anywhere else, and I can't think of any place I'd rather be.

The busker is counting his change, collecting his belongings. I dig in my pocket for the cash I have and approach him.

"You taking off?"
"Yeah.."
"Here, it's what I have." I empty change into his palm.

"Thank you!" 
"That was really great, you know. That's the best rendition of Heart Shaped Box I've ever heard, with exception to the original of course. You know, you have some real vocal talent. Why don't you do something with it? I feel bad listening to you for free!"

"Wow, thank you!" He mumbles some other gratitudes. He is shy, but there is a flattered grin on his face. I'm sure I'm not the only person who's told him this, I'd be surprised if I were. Having seen him ask Mr. Security Guard for a light, I offer him my lighter and let him know he can keep it. God knows I have thirty of them lying around my apartment somewhere. He laughingly tells me that he usually gets his lighters from drunken dudes staggering around at night (I did not ask if they actually gave him lighters or if he "borrowed" them assuming they would forget to ask for it back.)

I thanked him again for the performance. "It was nice to come out for a smoke and get a free show. Hey, good luck!"
"Thanks! Take it easy."

I walk away with my day brightened. The weather is mild, people are leaving work and there is a man standing in his usual spot with his usual sign -- "POLICE TORTURE. POISONED MY FOOD." One day I'm going to have to ask him about that. For now though, the sun is shining, people are happy and I have the rest of the night in this beautiful city to take advantage of.

Author's Note

I joined this site because I'm dying for feedback, and so it is welcomed (and encouraged), but don't be too hard on me. It's only a scribble after all. :)

Reviews

[William Maisonave]

It's actually a well written piece. And you know it is so stop downplaying your talent. Get back into writing. If you're serious about making a career out of writing then you have to write...simple as that. The more you write the better you get. Yet ,like any craft, the longer you neglect it the more rusty you'll be when you get back to it.
This piece is alive. As I read I was with you on that day....to be able to do that is a magic not all writers have. You should heed the message in your own writing:
"You know, you have some real vocal talent. Why don't you do something with it? I feel bad listening to you for free!"