It's story-time

Well, it's almost story time. This Friday evening, my alter-ego Eugene Knapik be participating in a special night of stories at 1001 Friday Nights of Storytelling. We remember where we walked is associated with Jane's Walk, an assortment of walks around Toronto neighbourhoods with local guides, in honour of the late Jane Jacobs.

Here's what it says on the storytelling website: As a warmup to the weekend, we are presenting a special program of stories about Toronto, four of them told in our usual location at the Innis Café and a fifth story combined with a walk onto the University campus.

Storytellers Pat Bisset, George Blake, Anna Kerz, Eugene Knapik, and Mark Jenkins will recount tales (some historical and the others personal) about the Island, Fort York, the Junction, Kensington Market, and the University.

Like other Jane's Walk events, this one will have free admission. (There will not be any time for an open stage this evening.)

Location: Location: Innis College Café
2 Sussex Avenue, Toronto
(Corner of Sussex and St. George, one block south of Bloor)

I'll be telling stories related to the area known as The Junction. My father had a business there for many years as did my grandfather, who ran an outfit called The Queen City Leatherworks, making gloves for the railwaymen.

If any Toronto readers of this blog are looking for an interesting and unusual evening activity, come on out to Innis College and be sure to say hi.

The return of Vox

Some readers will recall the appearance of Vox Kadavergehorsamkeit on this blog a while back, with an intriguing word game. I'd like to welcome Vox back to Mister Anchovy's. Vox has some stories to tell.... Check out the post below...

Should Lake Sturgeon be protected?

I saw an ad in the paper the other day, placed by Fisheries and Oceans Canada - about Lake Sturgeon.
"Fisheries and Oceans Canada is currently considering whether the Lake Sturgeon should be protected under the federal Species at Risk Act. In southern Ontario, this fish is found in the Great Lakes and St. Lawrence River system. Populations of Lake Sturgeon in the Great Lakes and tributaries were greatly reduced due to commercial fisheries in the late 1800s or early 1900s, and only remnant populations still exist today. Protecting this fish under the Act will help ensure its continued survival, but may affect fishers, boaters, First Nations, municipal governments and others."

To comment on whether the Lake Sturgeon should be protected by federal legislation, you can contact Pooi-Leng Wong at Fisheries and Oceans Canada: fwisar@@dfo-mpo.gc.ca.


You don't hear much about the Lake Sturgeon these days. My father was an extraordinary story-teller, and when I was growing up, he used to tell me (over and over) two stories about fishing for Lake Sturgeon - one about the one he caught and the other about the one that got away. They were dramatic fishing stories that were so vivid when he told them, I would listen wide eyed. Somewhere, we have an old family photo of my father with a very dead sturgeon and my big brother when he was a little tyke. I don't know how many times my dad would say, "he was 57 pounds and 57 inches". He would point at my brother and say, "he was bigger than you, and better looking too", and everyone would laugh, even though they had heard his cornball humour and the same story a thousand times.

My father fished for Lake Sturgeon in a pool in the Nottawasaga River we used to call the Whirlpool, just above Montgomeries Rapids. He showed me the spot so many times. "The sturgeon hold in here in the spring, son", he'd say, and he'd launch into another version of story 1 or story 2. "Hey son, did I ever tell you about the day I hooked into an 8 foot sturgeon on a fly rod?".

I have no idea if the sturgeon still hold in the whirlpool above Montgomeries in the spring, or if their numbers are the same or less than those days, when he was a young man who loved to chase fish. I do know that when I read the ad in the paper, I thought about my father and that river, and the stories about the sturgeon that he's not around to tell any more.

I think we'd better do everything we can to protect those sturgeon, don't you?

How To Be A Wine Wanker in Six Simple Steps

While listening to Mr Anchovy's music it may sometimes become necessary to drink a glass or two of wine. I recommend staying away from those pretentious bottles of "Dry White" because this is simply up-market vinegar.

A good honest red is always way best to begin wine drinking. Often it has been stomped by the earthy feet of French peasants and strained through their used underwear or socks. The flavours are much more intense than white wines.

Once having decided to forego good honest beer, then it is as well to do the wine thing correctly.So that you do not feel a complete fool, here are some hints on joining the exclusive world of wine wankers.

Step 1. The Hold
		Pick up with one hand. Hold by base of glass only. Only thumb and one other finger allowed on top of base. Only ever drink wine from a glass. Harsh as it seems, guzzling from a bottle held by the neck is right out.
Step 2. The Look
		Make a fuss to find a white surface. Try to apologise to someone as you do it. Tilt glass as far as possible without pouring the wine on the carpet. You are looking for "The Tongue" of the wine, as the French say. Take smug enjoyment that you know this, but try not to tell anyone. Say nothing. You know nothing, so why reveal it to the world?
Step 3. The Nose
		Spin the wine in the glass until you get a whirlpool. Try not to launch it onto the carpet or the person serving you the wine. Exhale obviously. Bury your nose in the glass, inhale deeply. Try not to choke or actually draw any wine through your nostrils. This may well reduce your credibility as a wine wanker.
Step 4. I Get
		Look thoughtfully to the ceiling. Say as if to yourself (but loud enough for your target audience to hear) the magic words "I get .." followed by a single thing it smells like. Eg "I get blackberries" or "I get wet straw" Say whatever it it you really smell. If its smells like dog poo, so be it. Just keep it short - no more than a two word description. Say nothing else!
Step 5. The Taste
		Take a small sip. Fight temptation to neck the entire glass. Swish the wine around in your mouth, ensuring you get good cheek movement. Think goldfish. Pause a moment and look thoughtfully to the ceiling again.
Step 6. The Nod
		This is where it all comes together. Face your target audience and nod your head in a single downward movement, while saying "Mmmmm" as if agreeing with yourself.
Why bother?
At wine tastings, or any occasion where there is good wine, there will always be a person who controls the flow of wine. And they want it to be appreciated. Its why they bothered to bring it.You are doing them a service by appreciating it. They in turn will subsequently offer you more. Hopefully lots more.The end result is by the time they realise that you are not in fact a wine wanker you have probably made friends and will continue scamming free wine anyway. Well, that's it for this week. I'm off to hide in the archive for another week. If I can find the key to the door, I'll be back again next Sunday.

Railroading on the Great Divide

It's great to see Utah Phillips is still out there playing. This is from 2007 at the Strawberry Music Festival. I particularly enjoyed his comments about oil. Utah is a fantastic storyteller and a fabulous songwriter too. If he ever comes to your town, be there! I attended one of his shows many years ago at the Transat Club in Toronto. I think that was located in the Annex, but I can't remember exactly where now. Utah came out dressed like some old time train engineer, with his long white hair tied back and hanging down to his waste. He's a self-professed anarchist and a Wobbly too. Phillips walks out on stage as if he is walking out of another time. The past, after all, didn't go anywhere.

The Wall Drawing

In 1982, I worked on a Sol Lewitt wall drawing at David Bellman Gallery in Toronto. This story came to mind after I heard yesterday of the death of Mr. Lewitt. If I recall correctly, the gallery was on Peter St, perhaps just north of Adelaide. One of our teachers at York University asked me and my pal John if we would like to participate. We were part of a whole crew of people that were led by Mr. Lewitt's assistant at the time (sorry, I forget his name). Lewitt was in Europe somewhere and we never saw him.

The drawing was to be carried out on the walls of Bellman's big space based on a specific set of instructions. The images were squares, circles and triangles in different order across the walls. On some walls, the images were surrounded with a grey ink wash and on other walls the ink wash was applied within the figures. The ink was mixed up based on a specific formula and even the way we wiped the ink onto the wall had to be done in a certain way. Over everything was to be a grid done in 9H pencil. Have you ever seen a 9H pencil? Consider that a 4H pencil is very hard and makes a very light line on paper. 9H is rockhard. I recall clearly catching hell because I wasn't twirling the 9H pencil as I drew the grid lines, causing parts of the lines to be thicker than other parts (I swear you couldn't actually see this).

One of the highlights of the job was lunch. Bellman would take us out for fabulous lunches every day. We were art students and this was a big thing. It made up for not being paid for the gig.

Perhaps halfway through the job, we were applying ink wash to the wall, and stranger than strange, these large letters started to appear. It was the residue of a previous exhibition by another conceptual artist, Lawrence Weiner. Weiner's stock and trade was words, applied to walls in various materials. This particular piece appeared to have been applied in enamel paints, then covered over with gallery latex. When the ink was washed on, we could read the letters.

We thought this was fabulous - sort of an accidental collaboration between two conceptual art giants. LeWitt's assistant wasn't amused. He traced Sol down and came back with a decision. We cover everything, seal it, and start again. We bought drums of this nasty white shellac-based sealer and covered it the next day. I recall feeling very woozy by the time we finished. The completed piece was fine, but I still think it would have been more interesting to leave the Weiner come through. What a happy accident! You couldn't have planned it.

Hey John, if you read this, do you recall any other interesting details about the drawing? I still have the little LeWitt drawing on a postcard that was our honourarium for doing the gig. Later, Bellman paid us good dough to paint over the piece.

Old Paint

I was visiting Gardenia's blog, and was trying to think of songs about leaving Wyoming. Goodbye Old Paint came to mind and I discovered soon enough that this old cowboy tune has many, many different lyrics. Then I stumbled across this interesting article about the origins of the song.

This led me to a website about black cowboys. There are some fabulous stories here, about people like Bose Ikard, who rode with Charles Goodnight. Charles Goodnight and Oliver Loving were the men the famous cattle trail, the Goodnight Loving Trail was named after. Utah Phillips wrote a lovely song called the Goodnight Loving Trail, about a cowboy cook, too old to wrangle or ride on the swing, you beat the triangle and curse everything, and if dirt was the kingdom then you'd be the king.....our old woman's lonesome tonight.

You can learn all about the history of the Goodnight Loving Trail here.

And, you can hear Utah Phillips telling his delightful story, Moose Turd Pie, here