can't go back, to Love, a home. memories of Pearl Bailey even a scatterbrained job curled like a Morning Glory about the ribs of day. Everyone repeats not going back. A sly ripple on the cape of wind, peaking with absentminded glee, into that bulge from within your past, beyond your left arm, called "before". Dismissing angels, refusing to court hardship, not to mention wincing that comes from attaching the mouth too fiercely on privale parts and all flasks with firm memory; wheeling drunkenly on her thought. her sayings, sculling backwaters of your mind with little fingers each repeating sane warnings. 25 Back to the Contents Page 

 

TORONTO

In Toronto, trendy bars absolutely must have a theme or at least end in "S". It's an unspoken rule. In-spots (notice the "S" again) recall the Lost Generation: Garbo's, Hector's, Lucille's; though less thematically inclined imbibers can indulge at plain sounding Sammy's/Charlies... The really jaded seek refuge at the Parrot or Madcaps which more than suffice: while those seeking purity in their draught can take consolation at the common Brunswick or Molley's. There's even a Barbary Coast for privateers. While on the subject of Exotica, Magoos or the Kon Tiki infuse that Tahitian feeling. For the medic middle of the road cum professional, it'a basic Malloneys, Eroticism is both underlying and apparently felt in the lush decor of Hemingways or, in the obviously suggestive supple Fingers. Money could be added to Kissinger's aphorism power is the ultimate aphrodisiac, Certainly, the jaded or those otherwise afflicted with ennui and creeping malaise have a whole city as their ripe oyster. And what was that Montrealers say of Toronto? Quennelles. Lady of the Gold Horse wilh Diamond Eyes. A bottle of Napoleon brandy for the Count and two Persian lions carved in wood. Salads Nicoise. Dinners at Pre Catalan in the Bois, a Toronto equivalent. A girl named Chantilly burning charcoal in the forest. I drank a cocktail with the girl of the white polo coat. Or as the cynic said,my pipe is the tent, the tobacco the days of my life. 26 Back to the Contents Page 

 

CRYING SCENE

If you're going to drop the gauntlet at least put on the dress of a full warrior -- paint, rouge, lipstick, sheer stockings and enough powder to smother a savage; then form a straight line and chant the litany (wise aboriginals never forgive, you know) and a good poundmaker is so adept at keeping score. 27 Back to the Contents Page 

 

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