mike the mountain

It’s just about 12:30am Saturday night/Sunday morning as I crack open Susie (my iBook) and fire up OpenOffice. Bit of a pain to write my blogs with OO, since it’s not running natively in OS X yet, so I’m going through an OS9/Unix port (X11), which unfortunately means that I am unable to copy text and paste it straight into FireFox‘s Blogger interface. So I gotta import the file into MS Word or Appleworks, then copy, then paste, then post. I do this because I want to get more comfortable using OpenOffice, as I know it to be a powerful, functional, free and open source office suite, easily comparable to Microsoft Office in most respects. I’m continually trying to de-Microsoftify my computing experience, not necessarily out of any animosity towards our Dark Lords in Redmond, but simply because I enjoy the exercise of operating outside of the mainstream whenever possible. Never settle for status quo, always going for the Custom Installation, if ya know what I mean. And if you made it through this paragraph with any inkling of what I am speaking about, then you are definitely a geek. Welcome, Live Long and Prosper.

Any actual point to my even-more-non-sensical-than-usual ramblings? Surprisingly even to myself, yes.

I am currently sitting on a rock.

It’s a big rock, but a rock nevertheless. This is important. This is very “stream-of-consciousness”, as I’m basically typing things out as they come to me. The reason why my sitting on a big rock is important to my story is that I needed to place myself physically where I had been operating mentally all day. Above people. Specifically rich, yuppie, spoiled, stupid people. For those of you unfamiliar with this particular little Toronto landmark, Yorkville is a small community just north of downtown, consisting mainly of two parallel streets (Yorkville to the North and Cumberland to the South) running about one block in length, East/West. On the South side of Cumberland, about half way down the street, there’s a giant rock/boulder/thing surrounded by a little sitting area, waterfall, fancy trees, etc. I remember somebody telling me the background once, but I can’t recall it at the moment. I’m sitting on the top of it right now, facing the street. Behind me is the big Nike store. To my left is Hemingways, a classic pub and popular hangout. Directly across the street is Retro-Fun, an amazing retro toy and candy store. To my right I can see Sushi Inn, in my opinion the best sushi restaurant I’ve ever been to, and a favourite date destination of my former paramour’s and mine (ouch, still hurts. Still miss her). Through the waterfall I can see the patio around Sassafraz, the current “It” spot for celebrities and those who think they should be (although I’ve been hearing a great deal about the decline in reputation over the last year or two). There’s a couple Bentley’s parked on the street, I see a decked out Prowler (always liked those), here comes a convoy of Rolls Royces and Mercedes’. Most people walk around here smelling like they use liquid cash for perfume. To live or play in Yorkville, you’d best come with a very healthy wallet. Up here on my rock, I get to look down on them all. And trust me, I do.

I’m struggling with my integrity right now, as there is a lot of fun and excitement to be had in the world of glitz and glam and Hollywood and music and money and everything that goes along with it. Right now I’m tapped into that. We’re making plans to host parties for the Film Festival crowd. Millionaires and Billionaires sit on my patio and enjoy a cigar with their beer, and I know who’s hand to shake when they arrive.

But OH MY GOD are there some DUMB people around here!!

I don’t mean this in an infantile schoolyard insult kind of way. I mean, you know the parodies of spoiled rich kids you see in movies and TV shows? They exist. 100%. You ever hear Paris Hilton talk? She’s not an extreme case… she’s the norm in that world. There is an entire culture of people who are totally useless, who contribute nothing to society, who truly believe that they are completely superior to anyone without a massive trust fund or sugar daddy, and have absolutely ZERO clue of what it means to work for anything. It really sickens me to hear some of these cretins talk. Men in their 30s, who’s Daddy’s give them an allowance, who’ve never had to work a day in their lives, sleep till 3 or 4 every day, walk around pretending to know what the heck they’re talking about for an hour or so, get in everyone’s way until they get bored, then off to the next hot little bar or chi-chi cuisine, perky little empty-headed blonde stripper/escort in tow freshly back from another shoe shopping bonanza. Call it clichÈ, call it stereotypes, but it is 100% true, speaking from first-hand experience. Oh how I hate them.

This is what I mean about the perspective stuff I started off talking about. I woke up today with a real bitter hate on for these people that I have to work around (and with). And so after I finished work (sloooow day), rather than just go home with a head full of intellectual egotism, I came here, to the rock, to see how my perspective on this society changed once I started writing. Funny how words and ideas seem to take on a life of their own, as if the act of writing them out somehow both personifies and empowers (embiggens?) them to act of their own accord, following a path not seen before. Is it any less clichÈ for a “working class” individual such as myself to get wrapped up in a protective cocoon of moral and intellectual superiority in order for my jealousy of that lifestyle to not come through so blatantly? I’m a young, single, white male, making above-average income, coming to work today at 3 in the afternoon after spending the previous day at a theme park, wearing stylish new leather shoes, new designer jeans, a custom-tailored shirt, carrying my Apple laptop in my new messenger-style shoulder bag, containing my iPaq, my digital camera, and my new cell phone with a digital camera built in! And here I am acting like my life is so hard and I’m so oppressed?? Thank goodness I didn’t end up having to explain myself to a single mom trying to feed her kids on a minimum wage job, not being able to afford new clothes and shoes and definitely not giving a flying royal fuck about what model of camera phone she should buy. And guess what? The liberal guilt trip doesn’t stop there, that mom still lives in Canada, with one of the best social support systems in the world, welfare, health care, etc., she better not look for sympathy from person X in third world country Y dying from disease Z…

I look at one of those nouveau-riche yuppie punks and think would I have turned out any different if I had been raised by filthy rich parents who just gave me everything I ever asked for? How exactly would I have ended up with my oh-so-enlightened view of the world if I never had to get a job, or do chores around the house, or go to a public school? So, is it their fault, or their parents’? Should I now be blaming the previous generation for churning out these spoiled little weasels? Maybe Daddy came from nothing, and worked his arse off to become filthy rich, and promised himself that his kid would never have to go without anything, that his kid would get to enjoy every dream that he never had. Is that any less of a noble idea, just because of the unintended result? And who the heck am I to judge anyway?

I don’t want to get in to the whole Nature/Nurture debate now, that wasn’t where I was going with this anyway. What I realized over the course of the last hour and a half of sitting on this rock is A)rocks are not very comfortable places for long-term sitting and not very conducive to writing, and B) feeling or acting all smug and superior towards the rich kids accomplishes pretty much nothing, aside from maybe getting myself cast out of Olympus as it were. It is enough that I am proud of what I am able to do, and be grateful for the lessons I have learned that brought me here. I may as well spend all day standing on this rock if I’m going to look down on these people, at least then it would be easier to see down their shirts!

Yesterday I truly felt like I was.

It’s hard not to. I am stupidly lucky in most respects. Yesterday I had the day off, and I got to spend it at Canada’s Wonderland with two great friends. Lots of awesome roller coasters, loads of junk food (still kinda quivering), and a parking lot light-saber battle. Just a generally nice day of fun. Capped it off with a truly classic film in every sense of the word: Kurosawa’s final masterpiece Dreams. Oh, and my folks sent me a VERY nice handmade shirt they picked up in Bali. All in all, a wonderful experience, and one that I was fortunate enough to consciously realize and be grateful for.

JP, Lisa, if you ever read this, thank you for being the best kind of friends that anyone could ever ask for.

I finally, FINALLY, saw Shaolin Soccer tonight!! I have been waiting THREE YEARS to see this masterpiece, and instead of it being the internationally reknowned action comedy juggernaught it should have been, stupid Hollywood studio decided to sit on it until everyone forgot about all the money it made in Asia and all the awards it won around the world. Now, if you’re lucky, you might be able to catch a two or three day limited run and one of those little indy theaters. I’ll stop now, because I’ve bitched about this before… but more so because I finally saw it! And it was awesome. The theater was laughing hysterically throughout the movie, at all the right parts. Cheers and applause erupted at a number of well-deserved occasions. Both my friend J.P. and I came out of the show with faces and sides sore from laughing, desperately wanting to kick somebody’s arse in a comically outrageous and physic-defying manner.

Work is… interesting right now. The numbers are in, and they’re not looking good. Toronto recently (June 1st I think) enacted an all-out smoking ban in bars and restaurants. Speaking as a non-smoker, this is farking fantastic. Speaking as a representative of the food/bar service industry, it’s a financial catastrophe (in the short term at least). So, needless to say, this summer is one of the most dismal in recent history (of course, with a recent history including 9/11, SARS, and me leaving, it’s really turning out to be a pretty craptastic millenium for the Big Smoke). So, bottom line, we’re staffed and prepared for a busy summer, forcasting a 40% increase over June, and we’ve actually seen a near 50% DROP in sales. Investors no like. We know that this fall will be the start of an amazing time for the Fields, with the Toronto Film Festival (oooo… more details on that to follow), the Food Network thingy (did I mention that yet? I’ll talk about that later too), not to mention a near 90% turnover as most of our front of house staff goes back to school, and we get the chance to remake the place “in our image”, so to speak. I don’t doubt the potential of my bar for one second. Whether it gets realized, or at least to what degree, is another question.

Naturally there are dramas and struggles that go along with any job, especially one staffed primarly by young, attractive females and an average annual turnover rate of 130%. Throw in the other side of the equation with multiple investors ranging from spoiled pretty boys who’ve never worked a day in their lives to ultra-conservative, old-school businessmen used to have things done a “certain way”… nepotism abounds, far too many people having far too many opinions, and not nearly enough authority residing with those who actually know what they’re talking about. This might be more nerves talking and emotions ranting than is fair to the people I’m working with, but probably not. One big lesson I took away from my time at the investments firm was, no matter how professional an environment may be, there is still just as much whining, cattiness, backstabbing, and general office-political bullcrap as anywhere else. I can’t even count how many times I’ve heard people say something like “Why is _____ doing/saying that? Are we still in high school?” Yes you are. You never leave. Accept this.

So it’s looking like this summer is going to be a very busy one for me. We have to cut costs for the short term, and that means one thing: payroll. We are dead right now. We don’t need 4 or 5 cooks in a kitchen when 2 will do. We don’t need 3 servers, 2 hostesses, a food runner, a service bartender, and at least one manager, when only the patio is getting any business. Sorry everyone, gotta start cutting back. Which means that since I’m on salary (ie: fixed cost), instead of having a service bartender, I bartend. Instead of 3 young, inexperienced servers, have 2 or even 1 plus a myself or the GM.

I wonder how “fair” this all is to my staff. Well, truthfully I don’t feel guilty about it, comes with the territory. But I can’t help but wonder what they’ll think. They can be incredibly frustrating, as every day I watch them make mistakes, sit around and talk instead of serving their tables, and generally act like… a bunch of late-teens-early-twenties, inexpeirienced, consciously attractive boys and girls in a stressful (for them) situation. Maybe I would have done better, maybe not, impossible to say for sure (ego and past experience aside). Does my awareness of this make me a better manager? Or am I connecting too deeply with a staff that I need to remain somewhat seperated from in order to function?

There’s no set answers here, just more challenges. And that’s the fun of it all. If the bar shuts down tomorrow, I’ll still walk away knowing I learned a lot, had some fun, and hopefully taught a few people a few things. Wow, I think I just defined what I need out of my ideal job.

Sorry for all the profanity, you’d think I was talking about frozen yogurt (yay for obscure Seinfeld references)!

OK, right now I really am eating the best Butter Chicken I’ve ever had. One of my kitchen guys (Haque, sounds like Hawk), keeps bringing me leftovers from his home, and I REALLY like Indian food, so this makes me very happy.

Now to the real news, remember all my smack-talk about American cinema being the retarded little brother of Asian cinema? Action, animation, and especially HORROR, all seem so watered down for the western audience that once you’ve sampled the unbridled ambition and expressive freedom movie makers in the east are given, you feel almost (screw that) VERY cheated by what passes for $13.95 at the Silver City. I’m definitely not alone in this belief, the right-wing fundamentalist PC wusses that hold the leash of Hollywood seem intent on censoring our lives and relegating anything of vision and challenge to back alley art house and college club experimentation. Every once in a while though, something like this comes along, and a glimmer of hope shines through the clouds of ignorance and mediocrity.

Saw.

Watch these trailers. Remember that title.

Now I have no idea what stage of production they’re in, or what will happen to it once the “committee” gets through editing, slicing, censoring, rating, and every other -ing it. But I can tell you this. You probably won’t see these trailers before the next Hilary Duff flick. Even if “Saw” never lights a screen, the fact that movies like this are being made at all gives one hope that even the most frightening vision can still be shared, and from that fear and darkness can come the true passion that movies should bring forth in us. Whether it be fear, or love, or lust, or joy, or hatred, or a call to action, a small group of small minds can not be allowed to decide what art you CHOOSE to see. You don’t like horror movies? Don’t see this. But don’t tell me I can’t! You don’t like giant rock penises? Fine, don’t go. But don’t tell me I can’t take my child to see Michelangelo’s David. This is not hyperbole. “The price of freedom is constant vigilence”. I can’t remember where that quote came from, but I do think it has a place. You like that quote? Here’s another: “Slippery slope.” Both sides like to use that one. This is not just about a freaky looking horror movie. Everything you see and do, to someone, is offensive. What is your job? What are you eating? What are you wearing? What are you thinking? Women are legally permitted to go topless in this province (no complaints here!). There are countries where they can’t even be seen in public, under threat of painful, violent death. Anyone like where that slope led to?

This movie is not my personal call to action, or some great landmark to be forever enshrined alongside Rosa Park’s bus seat, it’s just a movie. I don’t even know if there WILL be any controversy (though I think I have a pretty good idea). This is just me watching a great looking trailer, and thinking about the world. Why does it have to be a huge event to shock people out of their complacency, why can’t it just be a movie?

Finally got the last of my Sunshine pics online!! Sorry for the delays, technical difficulties you know.

As well, the moment you’ve all been waiting for, here’s the first pictures of my new bar, W. C. Fields. If you’re in Toronto, come visit (50 Cumberland Street, Yorkville area, just north of Yonge & Bloor). Ask for Mike, mention that you read this site, and you can watch me run away in embarassment (and then buy you a drink). Cheers!

It’s a hot, sweaty day here in Toronto… not to mention the kickoff weekend of the summer festival season! Talking about things I LOVE about this city? How’s this for a weekend schedule:

-Molson Indy

-Toronto Street Festival

-Toronto Fringe Festival

-AfroFest African Music Festival

-Corso Italia

-Toronto Outdoor Art Exhibition

-Beats, Breaks, and Culture: Toronto’s Electronic Music Festival

-Global Cafe Festival

-Taste of Lawrence East

There’s probably more, but I can only do so much (still gotta fit work in there somehow)!

Two things actually…

First, my poor beautiful little iBook has been at the doctor’s for almost two weeks. Good news, bad news; Bad news being less than one month after my warranty expired the screen went wonky (easily a $1000 repair). Good news was it was a known issue, so Apple (being the kind-hearted and wonderful people they are) did all repairs for free! I’ve been waiting not-so-patiently for her (Susie) to be better, I finally lost my patience yesterday and called. “Oh, it’s been ready for a few days now, we’re just waiting for you to come pick it up!”

…

At least I have her back now.

The OTHER thing was the link to my photos from my last job at Sunshine Village (see “Sunshine Photos” under “Links”). Appearantly, DotPhoto decided they would change the way I could remotely link to my photo album, allowing my friends to view it without having to sign up for a memebership and all that crap. It’s fixed now, sorry if you’ve tried to look at it recently. Now that I have Susie back I’ll upload the last of my pictures from that little adventure.

I have blisters on my feet and Spiderman in my heart. The lesson is A-Spiderman 2 is a very good movie; and B-$5 flip-flops, while cool, are not very good for long walks.

The job I’m working at right now pays me $35,000 per year. It feels strange to write that, knowing how taboo matters of personal finance are, but realistically it’s quite simple to find out what anyone is earning. Plus I’m trying to get over the concept of valuing people in general according to what they’re being paid. Was I a better person 2 years ago when I worked at an investments firm making six figures?

The job I’m working at right now pays me $35,000 per year. Say I kept an average work schedule, 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. 50 weeks a year (vacations, etc.), that works out to an hourly wage of roughly $17.50. Not bad, not exactly great either though.

Let’s compare that to the bartending job I originally intended. For simplicity’s sake, I’ll assume a similar setup to the one here (and at my last two bars as well). Service bar, which means I make drinks for the servers, who then take said drinks to the customers. As I am not earning tips directly, I receive a “tip-out”, or a percentage of sales, from the servers at the end of the shift. I have some experience, so let’s say I am able to negotiate the princely sum of $8 per hour, plus a tipout of 1%. Assuming all else stays the same (8x5x50), and even though sales are pretty slow right now, for argument’s sake I’ll assume consistent daily sales of $5000=$50 tipout. This works out to about $14.50 an hour. So I’m doing a little better, right?

However.

8 hours a day? Yeah, right. 5 days a week? Not this boy. This is a startup business, a new venture. And I’m in management. I work until the job’s done, I do what it takes to make each day a success. So what does that mean numerically? Still making $35K, but try 6 days a week, 10-14 hours a day, if not more. I’ll be conservative and go with 10. $35K/50weeks/6days/10hours=$11.66 per hour.

Is this job a good choice for me? Should I quit and go get a bartending job somewhere else that will pay me more, with far fewer responsibilities? Why should I stay at this job? I know what I will do, what would you?

Funny how poetic one can get when he’s tired enough. Ever had one of those “pothead philosophy” nights, when you and your friends sit around getting high/drunk/whatever and expound on the greatest mysteries of the universe? Now I’m a pretty clean living boy (no druggy, no drunky), but I do love the late nights, and nothing is better than long, deep, interesting conversations with friends intelligent enough to challenge you. Now the fun (and danger) of this website is it gives record to my thoughts, those crazy ramblings of the twilight hours that usually fade into memory with the sun now intstead go on display for anyone in the world with an internet connection and patience for the lonely and loquacious.

Case in point, my last post. I’ve been taking a lot of flak from my friends over the whole “Monk/Warrior” business.

In the light of day, I fully admit that it sounds like a bad script from a David Carradine series. And I don’t deny the Eastern influence behind the thinking there. But for those of you not versed in cliched B-movie philosophical imagery, allow me to explain. I was trying to describe two complementary, but competing sides to myself, my thoughts, experiences, etc.. The “Monk” image is the “left-wing” side, the one that wants to live like a hermit in a log cabin, built by hand, deep in the forest. Or a thatch hut on the ocean. No responsibility, no ambition, just peace and nature. That side of me likes to meditate, read about philosophy, practice martial arts, buy organic, grow a beard, volunteer for activist and philanthropic organizations, read Adbusters, hate Microsoft, etc., etc.. The “Warrior” image is the aggressive, ambitious, “right-wing” side, the one that wants to live right downtown in the biggest and richest cities out there. The one that wants to move to New York, because Toronto is too laid back for him. That side of me likes to lift weights and play competitive sports, go out clubbing every night, network, invest, look for opportunities. Eat, fuck, consume. Power above all else, above everyone else. The Golden Rule: whoever has the gold makes the rules. That side of me is wildly successful at whatever he wants to do. Fast cars, faster women, promotions, accolades, metrosexual, celebrity. I want to read Fortune and OWN Microsoft.

These are the two sides that I believe everyone has in them in different ratios. I’m only now becoming aware of the struggle, and trying to consciously learn how to balance them, instead of just going along for the ride. I love the Bushido philosophy stuff, so that imagery works for me. Other metaphors exist, do I lead with my heart or my dick? I don’t want to give the impression of a “good vs evil”, or little angels and devils on my shoulders, because both sides are equally valid and vital to the kind of person I am. I will never be content with mediocrity and annonymity, I need to challenge and improve myself, and be rewarded for it. Neither can I surrender everything for the profit motive, blindly stepping over everyone and everything in pursuit of the almighty dollar. I have a conscience. I need to know that I am helping make the world a better place, however slightly.

So there you go. A glimpse into the mind of Mike, or at least what I’m thinking about right now. Don’t worry, I’ll get back to writing about martinis soon. Hey, have you seen the Delisio Pizza commercial (“It’s not Delivery…”) with the stereotypical Italian ‘businessmen’ playing cards in a back room? Remember the big guy (“Frankie Delisio? I think I saw him with your sister.”)? He’s on the patio right now with some friends. They like expensive champagne (sparkling wine, I know), I had to run to the store to buy a couple bottles of Veuve Cliquot Brut. I just thought of another target market for this place…

Canada day. July 1st, for the uneducated.

I’m sitting on the grass by Ontario Place, looking at a beautiful full moon (a hunter’s moon as well). I can hear the Tragically Hip playing in the background. I’m waiting for the fireworks to start.

There they go.

I’m back at the apartment now (writing on the iPaq my new boss gave me). As I reflect on tonight, I see it was more than just a day off and a celebration. For me, tonight was a night of reconciliation. I found myself remembering what it is that I love about this city. I went out rollerblading most of the evening, and over the course of these few hours I enjoyed an amazing concert by ‘The New Deal‘ at the Toronto Jazz Festival, cruised along the waterfront, listened to the Hip, watched fireworks, walked/rolled back to downtown, had a street-vendor hot-dog, and watched a movie being filmed in front of a store that had been turned into 1930′s Madison Square Garden, complete with a big lighted sign, storefront haberdashers, old-school roadsters, and a full crowd of immaculately dressed depression-era party animals.

I was also reminded of what I hate about this (and any other big) city. The constant drone of police sirens in the background, people shouting and fighting, drunken assholes, deadbeats and losers, the polluted lake and stinky air. But this realization struck a subsequently deeper chord. I started to become aware of the struggles within my own person, a microcosm of the city.

I haven’t slept more than 5 hours a single night since coming back to Toronto.

I’ve always struggled with moderate to severe insomnia, usually stress-induced. This isn’t the case now, I’m simply falling back into the same pattern I embraced last time I lived in the “big city”. For the last year I’ve lived in peaceful paradise. Up in the Rocky Mountains, fresh air, nature, easy fun jobs… so naturally the side of me that began to emerge was that of the “Monk”. I exercised, not in a gym, but by climbing a mountain. I could spend entire days just reading and thinking. I began to use and consume organic products as a conscious choice over mainstream, and felt much better for it. I slept well, ate well, felt great. And was almost completely without challenge or ambition. I began to see, and even consider a life without any forward momentum or struggle, just coasting along with whatever happened. But now I’m back in the other world. The world of money, and power, and unlimited potential. And the hunger is back. The “Warrior” is back.

I don’t sleep because I don’t want to. There’s too much happening! Too many things to see and experience. As I finish this post I’ve been at work for over 15 hours, and I love it!! I want to make money, I want to succeed, I want to indulge and enjoy the best life has to offer. And I’m willing to sacrifice for it. Almost everything. Almost.

Last time I nearly burnt out, knowing only the drive, the hunger. I didn’t take time to feed the other hunger I have, for peace and love and happiness and all that hippy crap. I went to check out the downtown big city jazz festival, but I bought some nice handmade organic soap while I was there. I could easily double my income by going back to the investments world, but right now I’m enjoying myself at this job, and I see a lot of potential to both make money AND be happy! I don’t deny the struggle I have ahead to keep these things in balance. Heck, I still might end up buggering off to Japan with my buddy Dave in a few months. But until then, I have a lot to experience.

I used to want to rule the world. Then I wanted to hide from it. Now, I’m part of the world, and I only want to save it.