We Are Moving!

That's right, folks!

Sorry about the lack of posts as of late. Just finished packing and getting ready for the move.

So, in bullet form . . .

Things We Will Miss About Hamilton:

- Sushi Delivery. Sushi To Go on James Street North provide us with that city-fied convenience of not having to leave your house for anything. Pretty good, too.

- The almost completed and revamped Public Library. If you've seen it, the place looks futuristic.

- My favourite vinyl stores. Both Cheapies and Dr. Disc are my secret retreats if I need to disappear for a few hours. As I've indicated in this blog, both have my weakness: The cheap, 5 for $1 vinyl bins.

- James Street North. I love the idea of walking up and down this street to sounds of Portugal in one part, to Africa in another. Also a healthy population of scene-sters are emerging in this area, steadily taking over with their Art Crawls and Super Crawls every month.

- This Ain't Hollywood. This bar is two blocks away from my house and I just found it. It's hip enough for this socially-inept blogger. It's not the Townehouse, the ElMo, the Wick, or Absinthe, but it'll do. Two blocks!

- "I Say Disco/You Say Punk!" at Club Absinthe. I'm honoured to say that I met my wife there. But before that, I found a basement bar that looked like a fire hazard, was dirty as hell, and louder than a motherfucker. But I couldn't imagine myself being anywhere else! Let's get good Hamilton!


And on another note, this is just our little secret . . . this blog is moving, too. We'll keep you posted!

Things To Miss About Hamilton #4: Cheapies And the 99 Cent Record

Before I forget. Because I know I'm going to.

There are little unadulterated pleasures in life. All of us should have at least one thing that gives us joy, making our brief existence here somewhat bearable.

If for some reason you don't possess even that one thing that makes you happy, I suggest you find it quick. And when you do, keep it close to you and celebrate it often.

Because it can't be candyfloss and blowjobs every day.

I'm sharing my little bit of joy.

I have my record-buying bag in tow. Right now, it looks like a purse. Up a few blocks from home is one of my favourite record shops, with a name that speaks to my soul. I'm quite a thrifty bastard, even in the best of times, and the Cheapies moniker pulls me toward it like a fucking magnet.

I go in, and acknowledge the rude record store clerks I barely recognize. I head to the back, where the cheap vinyl are, to spend at least a few hours in my own solitude. I take my time, sifting through the mould, the old, and the unheard of. People that wander by are invisible to me. I'm focused. I pick piles out and separate them in my head.



Gotta Have. Definitely Maybe. Distant Maybe (depending on the budget).

I really don't care about nicks and scratches. Sometimes it's just good to have something physically to take home, and maybe hear that one track that's been in your head for years, finally being enlightened all over again. Who cares if it sounds like dog shit? It's all in how you remember it.

I walk out, heading home. My record-buying bag is full. It hardly looks like a purse anymore.

67 King Street East. HamilTONE!