I'm sitting in high park library, facing Roncesvalles avenue, a happy haven of hipster-yuppie activity on the best of days. Across the street in front of CIBS, a boy begins to set up instruments. He puts out a yellow and black top hat first, and set up a drum set - big drum, snare and cymbals. I see a guitar too. Black shirt, black sunglasses, blond hair flying in the wind, white, white skin. He sets up his drums and he begins to play, people walk past with a look, people walk by with their heads turned away, people stop and drop a coin in the hat. A mustachioed, ginger braided man comes by to chat, and the blond boy stops playing - does the man want him to stop? Is his music too disruptive on this sunshine drenched warm day? No, after two minutes and two more drops in his hat he starts up again. It almost sounds like drum practice, just simple rhythms played again and again, with seeming effortlessness. It's a glamorous effect, this blond white boy sitting at the corner of Roncesvalles and Wright, playing the drums with his sunglasses on, without a single damn care. A sweatshirted woman walks past dancing, and he grins at her. All I can think of is, damn I'm stuck in the library, damn how do people do this with their time, and taking a picture of this and showing my friends in Delhi - omg you guys this is summer in the first world!!!
ETA: So I stepped out of the library, and crossed the road towards him. The dancing sweatshirt woman crossed me on the street, body still swaying, and her smile put a smile on my face that didn't leave for the rest of the walk back home. I walked past the drummer boy doing his exercises, squinting in the sun because of course I forgot my sunnies. And then behind me a crotchety old white man walked up to drummer boy, drummer boy held his cymbals together and tapped on them while he spoke, and crotchey man told him to stop making the noise unless he had a licence! And a cloud passed over the sun at that very moment. lollll the power of crotchety old white men
