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Three part series on the Toronto area’s lakeshore motels, the last of which was torn down this week.

At least they don’t say “Now you know how to speak ‘Bear’.”

I think I mentioned once before in this space how much it used to bug me when fags of a certain persuasion would come up to me and say “woof” in an effort to tell me they thought I was attractive. I was never able to find it particularly flattering to be barked at. And I don’t think I would be able to do so now either.

Not that it’s been much of an issue lately anyway.

OK. Back to work.

I once had an attention span. Now I just publish bullet lists:

• So the News & Record, which used to be the daily newspaper in my hometown, has finally manged to degrade their web experience so significantly that, after fifteen years or so, I no longer even bother. Looking past the fact that much of their content was no longer was accessible online to most folks anyway, they now seem to have stripped the site of RSS feeds, eliminating a primary access point to what content still was available. Thus I no longer click through and see any of their work nor any of their ads–an astonishingly high proportion of which seem to line to their own religion portal (which doesn’t even seem to be a working link for me as of this morning). They’re not getting any click-throughs from aggregrators, either. I understand the debate about how much content newspapers should make freely available but it seems to me that what content they do make available shouldn’t be such a hassle to access.
• I’m really trying to feel sympathetic about this, but it sounds like the developer really has gone above and beyond the call of duty here, even though some of the altruism may have been legislative in nature. I’d like to see a low-cost enclave like this preserved in Santa Monica as well, but come on…
• The cartoon-like antics of Toronto mayor buffoon Rob Ford and his idiot brother continue to amuse me but also make me feel a bit embarrassed for my adopted hometown, which deserves better.

As for me, I finally finished the first draft of my reappointment portfolio last week. After one last proofing tomorrow, I’ll submit it on Monday and then will have a free week or two before I have to do anything else to it. Now that I’m done with what has pretty much been two solid months of composing very dry prose (between that and another pair of projects), I’ll be able to contribute something here again. Or at least have some weekend time to take care of some pressing projects at home. We’ll see.

I left the house at about 9AM yesterday, headed for Target to pick up a prescription. When I got home twelve hours later, I’d been to Charlotte for lunch, a movie, and dinner at the soon-to-be-defunct Riverview Inn. I do things like that sometimes; Saturdays are more fun when you surprise yourself.

I know I have a tendency to overanalyze my relationships with cities but it’s generally easier and more satisfying than trying to figure out my relationships with other people. Charlotte’s metaphor in this scheme is, I suppose, that of the old friend who sometimes gets on your nerves and with whom you enjoy hanging out but probably wouldn’t want to spend all your time. I don’t have any particular desire ever to live there again–I’ve already tried it twice. I  find Charlotte rather a bland and soulless place, the epitome of a  Sun Belt boomtown, but it still feels comfortable and in many ways feels more like home than Winston-Salem ever really has. Even though I’ve lived here much longer than I ever lived in Charlotte (six and a half years…damn…), I’m always a little surprised to realize that I can still find my way around the back roads of Charlotte better and that everything about it is more familiar than my current city.

It may be because my history with Charlotte is centered around a more period in my life when I was younger and more adventurous and everything was newer and more exciting. Charlotte was the first place I ever lived on my own. There is definitely nostalgia involved. I don’t have a lot of youthful memories of Winston-Salem, though, so I associate it with being older and more settled. That has its own benefits but is not really all that high on the excitement scale.

It also may be due to the fact that most of my life really takes place in Greensboro now anyway. Winston-Salem is where I sleep and buy groceries, and that’s about it.

That’s not to say I don’t like it here. Winston-Salem is fine, really, and it works for me in several ways right now. My neighborhood is convenient (albeit not to work), I like my house (even though it’s way too big), and there are lots of good restaurants here. But I don’t have a big emotional relationship with the Twin City and I don’t imagine I’ll live out the rest of my my days or even the rest of the decade here.

I don’t imagine I’ll ever live in Charlotte again either. My second residence during 2005 and 2006 made me realize that whatever I’d liked about living there in my twenties didn’t translate well to my forties. We seem to get along better from a distance.

…the beach in winter when it’s cold and rainy and deserted. And when I can get an oceanfront room with a balcony for less than I’d pay at the average suburban Red Roof Inn. Decorations optional.

I landed on Virginia Beach because I wanted that whole relaxing beach thing but also wanted a city nearby in case I got bored. Got my books, got my provisions from Kroger, and got my favorite traveling companion (that would be me) along for the ride. See you in a few days, if not before.