MAN oh MAN

So the next guy I date will not say 'lol' in public, will not lie to me about his silly feelings and will not extend sentiments such as "oh go ahead and smoke my .5 grams I left at your house," only to later reveal it that this along with all other similar expressions of generosity and kindness were indeed false. Oh, and did I mention he will have to wear this on the regular...

LAST HURRAH FOR THE FLYING PURPLE PEOPLE EATER

This Saturday, two of my girls and I trotted over to that infamous Toronto corner of Queen and Bathurst in all our most celestial finery to celebrate, along with the rest of Toronto’s nostalgic youth, the final rave that The Big Bop will ever host.  Spirits were high and could not even be dampened by the prolonged windy wait in -20C weather.  The cops were being bad and kept out many of the ticket holders, but you could still feel much love circulating the glowing labyrinth of the Reverb/Holy Joes.  

It fascinated me to see the variety of ravers who were throwing down to celebrate the last laugh of the purple monstrosity.  I've been in Toronto for over a year now, but my acquaintance with this venue is miniscule compared to some of the people I met that night.  Over furious thumping, through blinding lazers, we shared our memories of first raves, first punk concerts, and first questionable encounters within the windowless fortress. 

Despite impossible conditions, the promoters did a fantastic job.  This was a great fucking party to see out the Bop with.  The DJ’s were fantastic and the decorations blew my mind out of hell, so big up to Nocturnal Commissions for making it happen once again! Whole lotta love and respect for you dedicated folks.    

I wondered, as the night grew to a close and kandi kids cried alongside the crusty bar tenders, what will happen to the people who have made servicing this venue into their life-long career? I would like to follow them and see. This tied into a fascination I've developed with bouncers and security people in Toronto; I feel an unexplicable urge to get to know them, and document them; to investigate and circulate their stories, for the people standing sentry in the pits and holding it down in the face of all that is drunk and ugly.

 Thanks again and RIP Big Bop! You'll be forever in our hearts.