Adams @ MindSay

The Second City comedy club, located at 51 Mercer Street in downtown Toronto has six comedians and a hit show: This is the perfect way to start the night in Canada's largest and most diverse entertainment district.

 

 

Barack to the Future is actually not about the US elections. It pokes fun at pop culture, politics, relationships and culture snobs. This is a fine example of Toronto's best homegrown comedy, written and performed by geniuses that will someday be huge film and TV stars, Marty Adams, Kerry Griffin, Darryl Hinds, Reid Janisse, Karen Parker, and Leslie Seiler. And if you don't believe me, have a look at the review by Richard Ouzounian of TheStar.com who awarded the work 3.5 (out of 4).

 

 

Tickets are affordable, $23 Monday to Thursday and $28 on wknds and the whole place has full bar / table service. There are Wayne Gretzky's restaurant packages for dinner and a partnership with the nearby Marriott for anyone who needs a hotel room. Focus your next trip to Toronto on The Second City!

TOMORROW MAY BE TOO LATE
TO TELL SOMEONE YOU CARE
TO UTTER WORDS YOU MEANT TO SAY
WHEN THEY'RE NO LONGER THERE

TOMORROW MAY BE TOO LATE
TO VISIT THAT OLD FRIEND
YOU SHARED YOUR LIFE IN YOUR DAYS
YOU THOUGHT WOULD NEVER END

TOMORROW MAY BE TOO LATE
TO DO SOME NOBLE DEED
TO SHARE THE BOUNTY OF GOD'S GRACE
TO MEET ANOTHERS NEED

TOMORROW MAY BE TOO LATE
TO ATONE FOR PAST MISTAKES
TO FORGIVE AND BE FORGIVEN
HOWEVER HIGH THE STAKES

TOMORROW MAY BE TOO LATE
AND YESTERDAY HAS FLOWN
SO WHY NOT GET IT DONE TODAY
BEFORE IT TOO, IS GONE?

Dumb subject lines. I even have things to blog about and they mock me. But anyway. I did have things to write about, I did--I had a full plethora of smells and tastes and sounds and thoughts that I wanted to hum about but then I got distracted. First, I gazed blankly into space for the inspiration due to the subject line, as I often do, but I accidentally focused on my old flower press.

I got it for Christmas one year from my father's parents. We sat opening presents in their living room with approximately thirteen other cousins as I tore the tape from the shiny wrapping paper. A picture of small faery-children dancing on the top of the wooden frame was the first thing I saw, and then the bright red bolts that held the papers inside.

When we lived on the East Coast, I used to press flowers to put in letters to my friends. A few of my sketchbook pages (the one with the purple cover) have pressed leaves and flowers in them. Before we left for the West Coast, I took leaves from my favorite plants in our garden--the rosemary had tiny violet flowers on it then, and I took a small dark rose from the trellis on the side of the house. Leaves of mint and thyme frame some of my journal entries from that time . . .

I took leaves from my favorite Reading Trees. Some of the trees along our walking path to the park grew flowers in the Spring--I used to tuck sprigs of them into my best friend's thick, beautiful braid . . . I took flowers from that tree and put them in my press.

The flower press is dusty now . . . I must begin to use it again--it doesn't only preserve plants, it preserves memories . . . but anyway, I was saying. I got distracted. And then the cat jumped in my lap.

Or, I shouldn't say "the cat" because we really have two (that are each, in their own ways, very fine). Elanor is the one that jumped in my lap, my plump and adorable one. Ramone the Cosmic Bisqit is most of the time too boyish to sit still for very long. So, anyway, I was petting Nora and listening to her purr and thinking about how I should sit and read for a couple of hours tomorrow because I have a lot of reading to get done, and Charles Dickens does take a little while to sink into, even if you have read his stuff before or enjoy his style or both (which I have). And then I realised that I should pick up Emerson's essays too, and the bits of Blake's poetry that are assigned. Then--I should really get on the ball using my organiser. It is already half way through January and I haven't written in it, like I meant to before Christmas. Well . . .

And, like I said, I was getting distracted . . .

I suppose this day''s entry will have to wait until tomorrow:)

*hums*

"I like deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by."
--d. adams

http://www.rbnlive.com/

Rick Adams, Jack McLamb

click listen (winamp)

http://www.winamp.com/

 

try inside of winamp the shoutcast tv - many good flick in there. Watch out for x rated (don't select during intial setup)