I have never fully understood the arty romanticism behind locking yourself in a room with blackened walls. The supposition is that being separated from society, culture, and any other audio-visual stimuli will force one to deal with his/her demons, develop a better sense of self, and find creativity from a place that is not influenced or tainted. From what I can tell, it simply results in bad music.

Well, at least I wrote this blog

As the bitumen-soaked surface of my roof absorbed the heat of the late afternoon sun, I found myself sitting upon it, staring at the tops of what I assume are centuries-old trees surrounding High Park. In between my apartment and High Park stands an intimidating 100 year-old church. You know the kind I mean. One of those Anglican castle-like structures with impeccable masonry and gothic spires. It once was the Howard Park Pentecostal Church. It also had several other names denoting which denomination of Christianity it followed, but I don't really understand the minute differences between, say, Mehtodists and Adventists, nor do I understand the manner by which these denominations will often unite and share a Church. From my roof I can see the spires of this former Church poking out above the somewhat anachronistic red-bricked TD Canada Trust across the street. I say "former Church" because the Howard Park Pentecostal church is now known as "The Abbey Church Lofts," providing those who have no trepidation about shelling out $547/month in maintenance fees or about being visited by the Holy Spirit at all hours of the night with the opportunity to live in one of 24 suites that feature exposed limestone bricks, vaulted ceilings, stained-glass windows, and a Christian essential: stainless steel appliances.

Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the architectural feat of converting a gorgeous, storied old building into condos. However, every time I see one of these achievements, I find myself saying (aloud, regardless of whom I'm with [if anyone at all]), "Well, at least they didn't tear it down." At least they didn't tear it down. Yes, it's better than having a hastily-designed, hastily-constructed condominium tower on the site. The appreciation and preservation of Toronto's architectural heritage was avoided for much of the 20th Century to make way for brutalist structures, stucco-laden "modernism," and soul-sucking stretches of cookie cutter apartments. However, I've gotten a little tired of this trend towards "authentrification"––that is, in layman's terms, the opening of a business or what-have-you in the building of a former different business or what-have-you without altering the original façade or signage (for a more detailed discussion of this trend, read this article.) 

Now, I realize that authentrification is the First Aid Kit to gentrification's Mumford and Sons. No, don't get that analogy? Yeah, I was a little iffy about it too. Authentrification is the new buzzword, as gentrification was a few years ago, especially in regards to those evil hipster folk who once invaded west Queen West. Discussion of whether or not it is a viable and lasting manner in which to redevelop this city is necessary. The worry that I carry in my bicycle basket as I ride through Parkdale, Bloorcourt, and Bloordale is that one day in the not too distant future no one will know what the fuck is what. (Oh, I need some caulking for the draught that comes through the periphery of my apartment's shitty windows. What? I'm in some sort of future-past trading post with a wood stove, tree stump stools, dangling lightbulbs, and $18 drinks.) However, I continuously push this worry down to the bottom of my basket, to make room for the vintage clothing, sustainable produce, and locally-designed leathergoods that I've purchased at what initially appeared to be a Turkish bathhouse, a laundromat, and a smelting plant, respectively. I eagerly await the day when the massive Quality Meat Packers slaughterhouse at Wellington and Tecumseth closes down to make way for the authentrified Meat Packer Lofts, "With units starting in the low 400s, you can experience the sterilized steel walls and pungent aromas of a real live slaughterhouse."

Did you oblige?

Sometimes.
Other times I...pretended not to hear