I haven't been completely idle from writing, though. I did give a presentation/lecture on Disneyland and Walt Disney World postmarks to a stamp collector club three weeks ago, and I did it in costume as Cruella de Vil.
--Derwin Mak, author, cosplayer, historian, philatelist, Member of the Worshipful Company of Stationers and Newspaper Makers.
Hot Pavement and Haunted House
My life hasn't been quite so colourful as Derwin's. He's preparing for the launch of his new short story collection. My reading and writing lately has related to my own ongoing project, which concerns local monsters and similar folklore.
The previous research-related road trips have involved visits to small towns eager to see their local monsters publicized further, and one day trip to an intriguing haunted site on a tree-shrouded rural road.
Etobicoke is different. And, by the way, the "k" is silent, unlike the pronunciation it receives in the documentary, Don't F**k With Cats (2019).
Etobicoke became a part of Toronto in the 1990s. In 1968, it was a medium-sized city increasingly encroached upon by the sprawl of the Six. Some of the side-streets have no sidewalks. A ten-minute walk away from (of course), an old cemetery, stands the former town, former city's most infamous haunted house.
It started its haunted existence as a nineteenth-century farmhouse. The neighbourhood grew up around it. The streets nearby feel entirely unlike the sprawling megacity, nearby but invisible from pavement level. They're quiet, and run affluent in that way that plays as middle class in mainstream American movies. The set-up is perfect for an Unsolved Mysteries sort of show or a Hollywood horror, based on a true story!
The Etobicoke Poltergeist achieved fame and infamy for weeks back in 1968. It's our only poltergeist in the forthcoming book. Dan and I thought we should have one noisy spirit amongst our monsters, and two momentarily-well-known ones occurred within driving distance. Etobicoke got the nod.
But haunted houses present their own problems. These concern not the dead, but the living, residents.
Leave us face it: getting attention from outsiders because of some local boogeyman or river-monster is, at worst, amusing, and at best, tourist gold. But nobody wants spiritualists, ghostbusters, con artists, looky-loos, or (shudder) authors showing up at the door of their residence. And I myself would far rather visit a quaint small town or a publicly-accessible rural haunt where I am welcomed, than traipse the pavement of a Toronto neighbourhood during a heat wave to meet with people who don't want me there.
Someone or other annoys the current owners about once a year. They always ask them to leave. I learned this from the current owners, who then asked me to leave. They wished me well on the book, but have no interest in helping to revive the house's peculiar history, which they feel belongs in the past.
The house itself contrasts with the photos from 1968. Trees and shrubbery have been given license to grow, protecting the place from prying eyes. The current owners do, however, have a Little Free Library near the walkway in. They are not unfriendly; merely guarded. I was able to observe much that would benefit myself and the artist. My hypothesis about one possible instigating incident of the "haunting" looks more plausible now that I've examined the layout of the neighhbourhood. One sees things not clear on Googlemaps. I have no idea, of course, if the hypothesis is correct, but, so far as I can determine, we will be the first to advance it-- among the other possibilities.
I may learn more from the Etobicoke Archives, but they rest in a library that remains closed in the wake of a water main issue.
Well, it's always good to see family.
Family, Friends, and Warframe
I saw all of my Toronto relatives while I was in town, but I stayed with a nephew, who works IT, often from home. His apartment contains an impressive array of delicately-painted gaming miniatures and an occasionally troublesome black cat named "Darth Kitty."
I returned home after picking up JB at the airport. Hot tip: if you're getting someone from the airport—particularly if the flight is delayed—peel ten minutes north to that masterpiece of unreality, Woodbine. Parking for the mall, casino, and racetrack is abundant and free. The mall itself features an active foodcourt, many still-active shops, and a bizarre indoor amusement park aimed at little kids. Dinosaurs and carousel horses. Kids ride around on powered plushies.
Across the street, people play to lose.
Depart Woodbine, when the expected plane finally arrives, from north of Pearson, thus dodging the heavy flow of traffic from the south.
He came for Tennocon, a gaming convention focused on Warframe. The makers of the popular game are situated in my adopted home town. The convention sold out six minutes after tickets became available online, with about four-thousand attending. The numbers boggled my mind, since this does not happen with SF, comic-book, or even, really, gaming cons. Of course it doesn't. There are still plenty of those. Tennocon is one-of-a-kind, with limited focus and limited space.
Most attending were Canadian or American, but people had come from across the world. One couple flew in from New Zealand.
Saturday afternoon I participated in a launch by remote. Arlene F. Marks's new supernatural mystery, Remains to be Seen, features a minor character who has been given a variation of my name. Via Google Meets I read the scene in which he appears, presented on screen to the modest but interested crowd in Collingwood.
Sunday afternoon we went to the local Pride Parade. My video provides a decent overview of, at least, our perspective on things.
The odd and awkward final shot resulted from an old friend, a writing student from twenty years ago, attack-hugging me.
She was not, however, dressed as a Disney villain.