Prodigal Sun

Got me to the water
Got me a little sun
Had me some curried goat and rice
Even got me some writin' done

So I pulled a Sheryl Crow and soaked up some sun this afternoon, this being a holiday Monday. My original plan was to head over to the Toronto Islands and maybe find a patch of beach, and I was looking forward to the ferry ride over, get some nice lake breezes in my face. But when I got to the ferry docks, the line-ups were just too crazy. I knew there were some Caribana events there yesterday, but I thought maybe the crowds would lighten up today. Maybe they did, but the holding pen atmosphere of the place would have surely harshed my mellow, so I decided to stroll on down the boardwalk for a bit, and eventually found a nice piece of sun-drenched parkland just off the boardwalk, where I rolled out my towel, stripped off my shirt and laid back to soak up some sun.

Now I'm nobody's sun bunny. Not a sun-worshipper compared to some. But having grown up on P.E.I., my childhood summers revolved around weekly trips to the beach at Cabot Park (a 15-20 minute drive from our front door in Summerside) or maybe a little farther, to the white sand dunes and white-capped breakers (but colder water) of Cavendish. So it just doesn't seem right to let a summer go by without a little down time basking in the warmth of my old friend, el sol.

And, man, I was sorely in need of some down time. I don't think I quite fully realized how burnt-out I was feeling. Other than my day job, from which I haven't had a real, substantial holiday in almost a year, I have my freelance work, which doesn't occupy all my time, but when I am working on an article, it tends to dominate a good chunk of the usual two-week turn-around from the interview to the final period in the last sentence. The Emm Gryner story I just finished only had a one-week turn-around. It had been due last Monday but that deadline whooshed by, and then I spent the first few days of last week with a flu bug. I finally got the story submitted Thursday morning, pulling an all-nighter to do so.

I think I've been starting to notice how this pace has been taking its toll on me. Friday night, when I went with friends to see Paul Westerberg at the Phoenix (more on that later), I just felt kind of dull and listless, probably not helped by the consumption of several beers. The show itself was one of the best I've seen all year, and I thoroughly enjoyed it, but, especially later in the evening, I just felt like I wasn't fully there. Thinking back on conversations I had, it seems like maybe I was only half-heartedly involved. And I think I've been like that a lot lately. Not that I'm a chatter box usually, but it just seems that there have been times lately where I really wan't very interested in what I was saying. That's not a good way to be.

And of course, when I'm not writing an article, I'm blogging, or I'm reading others' blogs, or I'm visiting the various places on the web where I like to go. Seems like I spend an inordinate amount of time at my computer (no pun intended, for those of you who speak French). I mean, I like my computer, and I'm still enjoying new things about my iMac, downloading new software and such, but it gets to a point where ya just gotta get away from the thing.

So the sun felt good on my flesh. One day isn't much, but it did feel like I was able to get the batteries somewhat recharged. Let's not forget that we are solar-powered beings, after all. (And, yes, I used sun screen, of course.) And I even managed to write a good chunk of the lyrics for a song I'd started writing on Saturday. Kind of happy about that, because that would mark the first song I've actually written. Got tons of scraps filling up notepads and tapes, but this one might be the first one that actually makes it to the light of day.

Afterwards, I sauntered over to Harbourfront, where there was still a big Caribana vibe going on, and I chowed down on some curried goat and rice over at the food tent. Yum. Washed down with a nice, cold Keiths. I hung out there for a bit, soaking up the atmosphere. In the grassy area by the bazaar, there was a group on drummers (African? Brazilian?) playing (chunka-chunka, ka-chunk; chunka-chunka, ka-chunk) while people dressed in very brightly coloured costumes danced on stilts.

On the way home, I stopped at the Dairy Queen at Broadview and Mortimer and had me a delicious peanut buster parfait. I had had a craving for something like that since seeing the absolutely hilarious flim Jesus Christ Vampire Hunter last night at the Royal on College. Go see this film if you get a chance. And if you're not an easily offended devout Christian. It's a completely low budget film shot in Ottawa, where vampires are killing lesbians, and only Jesus Christ, with martial arts moves and killer one-liners, can save the day. He's aided by Mary Magnum and Santos, the masked professional wrestler. The audio is dubbed, there are musical sequences a la Godspell, and it's cheesy and campy as all get out. And it's great! What a hoot.

And why did this film make me crave a peanut buster parfait, you ask? Because God appears in the film, in a cameo as a cherry sundae (Jesus to sundae: "Oh, hi Dad") (not, by the way, as a bowl of soup, as the review on the imdb claimed. I mean, really. God as a bowl of soup. Get real. Besides, a sundae is more appropriate, dontcha think? Never as a bowl of soup.)

Seriously, after the movie, I had a craving for a sundae. What does that mean? Is that a sweet tooth, or signs of a spiritual yearning?

Either way, I guess I had the best of both worlds today: a delicious, chocolatey ice cream dessert, and the blessings of the sun.