My upstairs neighbour is caterwauling at 9:45 am. He is singing "the house of the rising sun" I have seen a grown man in white jungle gear perform the tune on Toronto's Quenn Street East. I have had my fill. Apparently Mr Zimmerman wrote this classic before the motorcycle crash.
Low n Slow, until June 23rd located at 113 Gore Street, is next to a large hole in the soft dirt and sewage soil. The bartender tells me tales of city workers and restaurant employees who have already tumbled into the dank abyss. I fear for when the summer chaos moves north of Albert.
The same metaphor appears twice in Douglas Adams' 'Hitch Hikers Guide to the Galaxy'; the spaceship that has lost its sensor which detects meteors to a meteor strike, and the man whose name is scribbled across the flesh of his brain in His Own Handwriting.
These things float through my brain as i gaze into the quiet weekend pit. Gore Street is halfway consumed with sewer reconstruction now, and it is more common to see trucks and cars driving the wrong way, southwards, than to see them come up from Quenn or Albert. All the lights flash red, all the time.
And yet, today was a good day for brunch. And tonight there's some pretty sharp acts playing a show in the old sunsnine 'mat:
Smoke Eaters, touring east from Victoria, will be headlining. Their catchy brand of psyched out garage rock will soothe the damage done to my nervous system by the past couple weeks of truck-and-crane.
Opening up are local acts Great Chamberlain and Shit Creek Survivor, both slanging a grimy folk style that's straight-up Soo. The show is pay what you can, and doors are at 7.
One last shout out to the LnS crew, who are moving in a couple of weeks into the old Verdi Hall at 480 Albert West. I toast several "last pints" to you underneath the ceiling mirror, beneath Chad's old fun-pad. I've lived in the neighborhood almost two years now, and I've seen some changes. Is it fated that yoga, brunch, and tapas will all be available in the heart of what was once downtown Sault?