Hayden, the mostly melancholic Toronto singer-songwriter has just released a brilliant new album. He’s also coming to Kingston!

I’ve listened to an awful lot of Ryuichi Sakamoto’s music over the last forty years. Sadly, there will be no more new material.

The encampment at Belle Park has been mostly dismantled. If that meant that everyone had been moved into reliable, safe housing, with access to the services they need, this might have been good news.

I was looking through recent photographs and realize just how regularly I turn my gaze to the up and down footpaths that cross what used to be the old municipal golf course on outer Montreal St. The Belle Park Meadows, I call it.

If you’re trying to make sense of the market, and possibly even to make decisions about whether to buy or sell in the coming months, you’re not alone. It’s weird out there. But we’re here to help.

While I wait for life to settle down, the market to pick up, an idea to strike, things to just generally change, I listen to music…

Sleaford Mods, one of my go-to bands, release a new album in March. The first song, and its great accompanying video, were released this week.

The Getaway - a city fled and a towering new skyline.

Things fall apart …

The Belle Park Meadows are a collection point for the abandoned detritus of lives gone off-track. This valise might just have easily have been on a train station’s platform, the engine steaming on to the next place. The truth is likely more sad.

In the mid-1970s, in the UK, there was a television show called Survivors, about a very small population that remains in the English countryside after an airborne virus reduces the world’s population by 99.98%.

Sometimes I can convince one of my kids to send me a photograph, and either I’ll use it at the top of this page or, as in this case, I’ll weave some small narrative around it. I like that we work together on these bits. It feels to me that we are unearthing some modest gems. This shot is one of Lucian’s, from just up the street.

We had no money, but came up with a story and a plan.

I don’t think anyone wakes up thinking, ‘What I’d really like is to end up a middle-aged real estate agent.’ And yet here I am.

I’ve tried frequently over the years to get the hang of meditation, I think it might help, and I’ll persist with that, but damn it’s not easy for me. What makes more sense (i.e. what’s easier) is to find stillness and even infinitesimally brief glimpses of peace in new music that resonates. It’s something I’ve learned about myself. And as often as not in these late pandemic times that seems to mean that I turn to Damien Jurado…

It’s the end of the world out there…

Until just a couple of months ago, and for at least the last two years, the listing price of a house only hinted in the most remote way at the amount it would actually sell for. Which is no damn good at all.

Sometimes it can be as simple as the way ice changes to water in a painted glass left in the sun.

The first stab at finding a way of coming to terms with memory loss, and dementia, in a parent.

A very short reminiscence on angling and dissolution.