yellow autumn leaves

I was born in Calgary. Actually, I lived there for 8 years before moving east with my family. And so I was old enough to have memories from the time I spent there — I remember feeling giddy at the Dinosaur Park at the zoo, buying slurpees at the 7-11 down the street from my house, coming out of my house in the middle of winter and being amazed at the warm chinook weather. One thing I do not remember is Calgary's monochromatic autumn.

Yellow. That's all that happens to the deciduous trees that shed their plumage each year. None of the beautiful auburns and coppers and fiery rusts that we achieve on the east coast. It's because of the poplar and the larch, people told me, that gives Calgary its vibrant mustards. And while it was stunning to see the sides of the mountains swathed in gold, all I could think of was how I missed the east coast rainbow.

CONSUMED: Calgary and Canmore, Alberta

spicy ramen

Spicy ramen is one of the best ways to finish a night after an evening of drinking. I especially love it the way they served the noodles al dente. It's too bad I gave the cabbie $11 fare when I meant to ask for $11 change. That's what happens when you ride a cab slightly tipsy.

CONSUMED: Minka; W 5th St, East Village (Manhattan)

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay by Michael Chabon

Reviewing this book is probably a foolish task. So I won't even try. All I will say is that this book renewed my faith in contemporary literature, reminded me about the joy of looking up a word in a dictionary, and held me so fast that I was loathe to finish it.

Please. Do yourself the hugest favour and read this book.

CONSUMED: in planes, bedrooms, hotel rooms, buses, subways, living rooms scattered around Canada and the US, over the course of 2 months

Michael Arenella & His Dreamland Orchestra

Central Park. Hands down the number one thing that you gotta do when you come to New York, before the Empire State, Rockefeller Center, even the Statue of Liberty. It is the figurative and literal heart of the city, pumping vitality into its inhabitants; without it, the city would gain 10 BMI points, start to balkanise, and finally commit suicide.

It's for this reason that I show the park off to visitors like it was my very own backyard. I still relish in the park's verdure, and in the disparate (though inevitably intertwined) cultures of the native New Yorkers and the weekend tourists.

And so on touring Central Park with an old Haligonian friend last weekend, it was with feigned surprise (I am no longer surprised when the park provides unexpected forms of entertainment) but unfeigned delight that we stumbled upon Michael Arenella & His Dreamland Orchestra. Their hot dance jazz ditties had attracted a healthy crowd to the steps of Bethesda Fountain, including what appeared to be true aficionados of the fancy dances of the 1920s. We couldn't help but gawk and share giddy smiles, faintly aware that the city in which we were standing was intricately tied to the anachronism playing out in front of us.

CONSUMED: the steps of the Bethesda Fountain; Central Park, New York

shadow tracings

One recent evening, likely around 6pm (the time when the long shadows emerge during these ever-shortening autumn days), someone got down on their hands and knees, a stick of chalk in hand, and proceeded to outline the shadows cast by a bike and street sign on the corner of Bedford and N 5th.

Yes, I know this is old stuff. I mean, the NY Times ran a piece in 2005! I doubt it's even Ellis G anymore. But it doesn't make it any less cool when you stumble upon it.

CONSUMED: NW corner of Bedford and N 5th St; Williamsburg (Brooklyn)