Walking back from the theatre at Richmond and John where I saw one Hot Docs film, Lynx Man which I would recommend. Marveled at that neighbourhood I once felt connected to, now I am from another country and an alien to the locals, “Proud Isabella, they tore you down and plowed you under, you’re only real with your make-up on.” Neil Young could just as easily be talking about Queen and Spadina’s north East corner as I slunk past noticing the time warp. That rear entrance to the Horseshoe especially spooky. I often entered shows without paying the cover, as one might when they knew the rear entrance unless of course that odd guy with the limp was stationed at the rear. It was like he lived in a group home but working the door was his moment of social power. I remember standing here gabbing with X-Ray about the Tragically Hip. I remember sitting in a car with Holly Cole over there telling me she cried after hearing the song In Her Dream. I remember a rockabilly band smoking up by the door and dropping their just-started joint down the grate and I remember the uneven ways those merlot doors required slamming in order to stay shut. The Rivoli, Bamboo and Cameron doors called me too.
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I wondered what was that Yorkville I heard so much about where Neil Young, Rick James and Joni Mitchell played. It was just a playground for the super rich by the time I got to Toronto. Just like where I am now or where it will be in a few more moments. But spaces where artists make work persist and in a way it is just a game, figuring out where it is hiding before turning again into something not resembling what it was.
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In the Q&A after Lynx Man I asked the director about a scene near the end where the subject had placed primitive Lynx masks on stakes. He did not like my question because he preferred not to talk about it but then changed his mind. He was from Finland and he wasn’t sure what were the best words to explain it, “essentially everything has a lifespan” he said, and the knowledge he aspires towards lies in respecting that.