Chaos is the score upon which reality is written.

Henry Miller, Context Unknown

July 3, 2002. Wednesday.

Could it BE any hotter? It’s now 84° at 10:30pm, no wonder I never complained about the English rain.

Yesterday’s Maximum 93° F / 34° C approx.
Yesterday’s Minimum 73° F / 23° C approx.

Naturally, the best time for a garbage strike is during a heatwave. Once the temperature is up over 35 like it has been the last few days here that rancid odour just hangs a few feet from the ground. It’s quite a tourist attraction let me tell you, the putrid stench of hundreds of pounds of rotting vegetables and moulding meats mixes with the metallic sting of the smog to create a truly wonderful taste sensation.

Gotta love those unions!

I have a feeling I should be putting a disclaimer on the next few days that I am either the Unhappy Bastard or maybe the Happy Cynic instead, either way just being here is better than sitting on the couch wishing I had the time or the will to keep up with something that is still a great passion of mine.

Do I bother with a recap? I am working on a neat pop up system for the last few months so we will see how that pans out first.

So finally summer arrived with avengeance, forcing even me to succumb and put the air on. Regardless of how long I am here (and it has now been 16 years) the heat that summer in Toronto can generate never fails to surprise me. Mix that in with the seemingly boundless stupidity of people whose very IQ seems to be melting before your very eyes as they squint through their windshields at rush hour traffic and you have yourself a veritable chilly summer sundae of potential insanity. I swear, I have never seen so many people so angry as I do at 4pm on a weekday when it is 44 degrees with the humidex.