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News from Toronto!

A Cabbage Soup Recipe


Roland Michel TremblayWhen you're as cynical as I am, you usually don't go out anymore. But I had no choice this time, I had to go to Toronto to my ex-boyfriend's penthouse, and there I was again right in the middle of it all.

It is well known now, I have suicidal tendencies, and this time almost did it, I was that close to throw myself down the 19th floor. Am I already so old? I am supposed to celebrate my 30th birthday in 8 days, it sounds more like my 50th birthday. We could only talk about money, great penthouses, buying a new house for a million bucks and dieting. The big word, a cabbage soup diet. As much as this whole thing makes me puke all over the place, I have to admit that it works. Two fatties, including my ex-boyfriend, became great looking guys. So I have no choice but to get on that diet myself as soon as I am back to London UK.

So apparently you put some cabbage, tomatoes in cans, some other vegetables and spices, and there you are, you only eat that and within three weeks you are 20 again. Going out at Woody's, the Barns, The Crews, The Wilde Oscars and whatever else Church Street has to offer on a cold night of autumn.

Never seen so many gay people in my life. From the flat of my ex I can see most flats of what is now known as the Vaseline towers. Mainly gay people lives in there and you can see it all from your balcony. They kiss, they meet, they party, they chat about buying their one million dollars house and they fuck right under their window. It does not help when your boyfriend found the best looking kid on the market, directly shipped from Sweden and found on the Internet one boring night. Ikea is achieving miracles these days. Blond, blue eyes, thin, no need for damned cabbage soup, that's for sure. Does not make you want to celebrate your 30 great years on this planet.

I wanted to live, be happy, you know. Not get that depressed by a small trip to Toronto. Oh God, and I had to learn to be hypocritical again, reminded me of my days in New York and Paris. You just cannot tell them what you think, you have to tell them what they want to hear. What good is life if you have to hide the truth? I hate that house you want to buy, I hate your 3,000 dollars TV. And your perfect Ikea boyfriend from Sweden that took one night to assemble? Pass me the bucket, the large one! (Of course, this is jalousy speaking…)

I cannot lie, I cannot be part of any jet set, I cannot live in society. Don't invite me to your party, I will ruin it. They don't even drink beer anymore, not fashionable enough. They drink these weird cocktails that take forever to make and three seconds to drink. Try to explain to Toronto gay people that in England we drink 12 pints of those beers in 2 hours. They see me as an alcoholic… never mind my accent when I am drunk. I have been accused of losing my French Canadian accent after some years in Paris and Brussels, and now I am being accused of losing my English Canadian accent that I never had! I could not speak English before I arrived in London in 1995, so fuck you! Anyway, who wants to speak Canadian, the language of perfection? You can all die in your perfect and rich world, I have something else somewhere else to live, closer to reality and life. I cannot wait to get back to my misery in London at the end of the month. Oh God, get me out of here! But I'll keep your cabbage soup recipe though…


30 photos of Gay Toronto

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496 photos of Toronto

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Roland Michel Tremblay

www.crownedanarchist.com
rm@crownedanarchist.com



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