Darlings, we only live in moments now (Part 3)

Storefront of Coles & Keys, Stratford ON“What a beautiful day to respect someone’s pronouns.”

I’m not even a stickler when it comes to pronouns (she/they) and to happen upon this lovely li’l shop window on York St in Stratford, and “the welcome.” One of “the Nicks” (shop owners, Nicole & Nikki) came out to greet my friend Elizabeth and me, I was so taken with everything about this space, they have such an eye for what fills/frames the eye and I was quite moved by their storefront, the quote… how incredibly brave. Times like these I wish I had buckets and buckets of moo-lah to make it rain on these two, their dream. They even gifted us their custom lens cleaner and wipes. Thank you thank you thank you. Independents fucking rule.

Speaking of which. Paul McKay, bookseller at King’s Co-op Bookstore. Halifax.

Books. Paul McKay. (Thank you.)

I fell out of love with Toronto since knife | fork | book closed. The pandemic wiped out a significant number of go-to places, many more expensed out of existence since then. I marvel who can afford such things? and by that I mean “bricks & mortar” retail. Artist space. Small Press. Living. I differentiated loss from failure. My choice to be alone v. what still felt like isolation. How much I’ve aged in such a sort window, that my life requires loving assistance, someone at my side now & again. Taking my hand. Finding out Aleve works. That I didn’t need to be harsh with myself to boot (gentler, Kirby. Tender. The feather duster, not the machete. Push only when called upon and even then… you’re new to this). Jim, Don, Dale, Ralph, Jessica, The Mockler, those close remind me. Thank you. Touchstones all.

The Don Pyle.

And, I’m blessed with young queers reading me, seeking, sussing me out. My first intergenerational relationships. Artists who want to know, “Can I do this?” to “What was it like?” to “How then shall we live?” And, most importantly, showing me how it’s done. NOW. Their own remarkable fierce invention. Queer fresh! So far, this continues to be one of the primary colours to “What keeps me here.” I simply marvel.

A splendiferous afternoon sorting through copious amounts of vintage gay porn with fellow aficionado Daniel.

Stevie Manning performs at Three Dollar Bill, Parkdale

Speaking of which. Stevie Manning is a star.

“Glory Bee” she’s found her queers! Like the PSB song “Where have they gone?” darlings, they’re alive and well and fucking in Parkdale at Three Dollar Bill, an Erotic Reading Series hosted by Bee Traverse and Faith, this particular night featuring the Fan Wu, the Angie Quick and Stevie Fucking Manning with a slew of open-mic-ers reading from the queer classics (not their own) I find myself seated at the bar with none other than the Barbara Tran (“you should’ve won girl”) and this absolutely adorable waif of a child (Neo) approaches, “Kirby o my gosh I’m so nervous I had no idea you were going to be here I’m reading you tonight is that okay?” “I’m here for it babe, make it yours” (they do) and Stevie comes on and owns the room performing a Nicole Kidman monologue from Eyes Wide Shut, not lip-synching, giving it, giving it all and for the first time ever I simply couldn’t be happier to be here.