Vivid iKid

It happened Monday April 11, 2005. It's not an event or a turning point. No one will remember that date. Nothing of importance happened. But for me, within a few seconds, a feeling appeared and was crystallized into memory. As I experienced this, "Star Guitar" by the Chemical Brothers flooded my mind (in music video format). I've written songs based on the moment. And new songs I hear harken back the morning rays and distant towers. Listen to "Back to the Vibe" by DJ Marky and Bungle and see if you can figure out what I mean. I choose employment based on those seconds. I don't know why exactly, but I went to a place there that opened up futures. It was as if I snuck through some portal to another universe for a few passing moments. Anyways, see what you can make of it:

The words Queen, Broadview and Village are embossed fancifully along the curbside planter. An evergreen shrub of some sort grows out of it and tall yellow grasses and bare twiggy branches not yet budded crowd around. A bicycle passes.

The sun beats down through the unmarked sky on the cars at the Toyota dealership across the street. The various types of SUV hybrids in tones of chrome reflect the midday sun like a mirror.

The asphalt rises slowly to my right past the concrete planter, past a streetcar shelter, past a red brick building and all the way up to the sturdy frame of a turquoise bridge. Somewhere beyond, somewhere further on, skyscrapers rise; they look deep blue right now -- docks to the heavens.

Past the Toyota dealership in front of me -- past the red baloons, flags and banners -- and even past the red crane -- smoke rises from some dark polygon. It emerges, floats past some glass and dissipates. It's soothing (it shouldn't be). Hypnotic.

Today the smoke looks more white than grey. It's a boquet of chrysanthemums. It's one flowing movement, like the rows of Canadian flags snaking forwards and backwards in front of the Toyota dealership.

The cream colour painted on above the chiropractic clinic across a sidestreat to my left is flecking off towards the top, exposing the red and orange bricks beneath. Beyond that I can see Pizza Pizza -- or at least a large sign with its phone number.

I sit here with my ass on the ledge of the Free Art Gallery and wait.

It's enjoyable. But Molle's forgotten.