Danny & Pork Chop Go Maple Day 1: Penis Art, Ink & Dino Dreams

It's early. I can't sleep. I look at the glow from my phone and see that it's only 3:03 am. My body clock is so fucked up I can barely function. The silence of the rental property is calming, usually, I find silence in strange places unsettling, but here, I almost sink into it. I reflect on the sunset from the night before, feeling excited about the day before me. I know that later today I'm going to be dying from the heat and the fatigue. Why did I agree to do this in the summer? I should have known better, knowing how the heat affects me. I can do this. I need to push myself anyway, achieve new things.  It's going to be bright and hot today, upwards of 21C. I busy myself for a few hours, trying to go back to sleep, but ultimately giving up and watching breaking bad until it's an appropriate time to get up and shower.

The first stop on the day is the Redpath Museum. It's actually apart of McGill Univesity. It's free to enter, but donations can be made to help with the upkeep of the museum. It's easy enough to get to; I can take the underground and walk up. Easy peasy. The museum brings back memories of Berlin and I'm not sure why. It's as if my memories and senses are fighting one another for focus and control. I'm being dipped into a sea of memories. It's crowded, there are so many children; I didn't realise that there would be so many children here first thing on a Friday morning. I don't mind. After all, I had a great time last year in Stockholm with the kids at the Natural History Museum. I slip into the room, winding up the staircase and see the main reason for my visit. The dinosaur skeleton. I'm just going to stop here-why aren't there more just dinosaur museums? They need one that's just skeleton to baby to adult. All about the ones from the sea, the land, the air. We have so much information about them, why has no one done this yet? I'd go there. Shit, I'd probably live there. I feel like a giant child walking into the museum. I'm tempted to sit with the rest of the children on the floor and listen to the guide talk about the history of dinosaurs and fossils. I'm glad this is one part of me that never grew up. It's not all just dinosaurs here. There are a few specimens, information on fossils, the dinosaurs featured but there's also exhibits on modern animals. A case featuring the work of Charles Darwin catches my eye. The case houses a 4th edition of his work The Origins of Species as well as several of his correspondence letters. I'm screaming internally, completely nerding out. 

I could stay here all day, but I have oodles of other things that I need to get done today. Next stop? The Museum of Fine Arts. It's been a long time since I've been here. 14 years. I can't believe that it's been that long. I think back and do the math in my head. It really has been that long. That was on a school exchange trip. I start to feel really old. Doesn't help matters that my hip is hurting too. I feel a wave of existential dread wash over me. I can't get that weigh me down. I have a job to do.

The last time I stood in this museum entrance I was 14 years old. I was on an international school trip and was nervous. This time I stand before the entrance a grown, almost confident man. It's almost hard to believe all that time has passed. So much about me has changed and yet the child inside of me still thrives. I walk in to get my ticket and then I realise that I'm way too old to get the children's or the youth ticket. Kinda dawns on me my age. It sours me only for a moment. With new gusto, I purchase my ticket and give my rucksack over to the woman in charge of it. I can't leave Pork Chop in there all alone, so I bring him about the gallery. The rooms are dimly lit and cool. I like this place already. It's perfect for a dark, cave-dwelling introvert like myself. I love the sculpture work. I could never do that. The fine details...sometimes I wonder if the artist killed people, posed them and then poured plaster all over them. Hey, art often comes from the macabre. So many of the statues are nude...nude women. That's always struck me as odd. The male statues, the genitals are often obscured with a leaf of some sort (traditionally the fig leaf) yet the female statues are never covered, despite the obsession with a woman's modesty. I'll never understand this. Cover up the women, cover them up! Yet if it's a painting or sculpture it's art. What about photographs? There's a thin line with that, depending on how it's shot it's either beautiful or it's vulgar. Go figure. I walk through the exhibits. I'm always drawn to classic works of art.

 I'm really not into modern art. I've mentioned this before, that I think it's just really subjective, empty bullshit. I'm walking through more of a modern art type of set up when I spot a piece of art that takes my breath away. Penis art. I was not expecting this in any way, shape or form. It's a giant brilliant pink cock sticking straight out of what I think is supposed to be a sort of mushroom piece. I can't look away. It's more than the colour. It's more than the size. There's just something about it that draws one's eye to it. It's not even in the middle of the room either. My mind exploded with thoughts. Who created this? Why did he create this? Is it a statement on his manhood or the manhood he wishes he had? Is it a warm reminiscence of lovers? Is it a reflection of his rubber dick collection? Or is this the work of a horny, warm and reflective woman? Maybe a scorned lover? No, the penises are way too big-no, maybe she's resentful she can no longer have cocks like that? Why am I like this? I tell Pugely about this and he starts asking the same questions when I show him the photo. We both linger, suspended, lost in confusion and awe over this work. It's not any great work like it's not exactly well made, but the statement it makes-I'm not sure what it is, but it sure as fuck makes one. I kinda want it. The colour scheme reminds me of the '90s. It takes some effort, but I tear my attention away from the mushroom penis art and continue taking photos of the other pieces.

Some of the rooms are more brightly lit than others. I like how they've set the light in accordance with the pieces. When I was here last they had an Ancient Egyptian exhibit. This visit, they have a collection of native Canadian artwork. Some of it rather spooky and I love it. The culture and history in these pieces are amazing. It speaks not only to the artistry of who created it but the passion and devotion to the craft. I take a few photos and move through the exhibit.

I don't remember the courtyard from my last visit. I look out and over the streets. It's beautiful. The sky is a vibrant blue and clouds hang sparsely like cotton swabs. I pull myself away from looking down. I wonder what it would feel like to jump out of the second story. Just fall down. Why are these thoughts fucking plaguing me? I try my best to stuff them down and finish the museum. I'm always drawn to the Christian artwork, despite my lack of belief in anything really. It's not that I'm atheist, I've come to the conclusion that if there is a God, I never will understand him, so it's better off that I don't play around with something I don't understand. I've been burned with fire too many times in the past to want to try again. There is a certain beauty and aesthetic to Christian, especially Catholic art that I love. I feel a warmth radiating from the pieces and it helps me to relax. I've always been respectful of art. I stand in awe taking it all in. 

One last exhibit to go to. The gallery is sparsely filed. I think it's just done for the aesthetic. The silence is unsettling. I feel my blood rushing through my veins. My thoughts are static just like the artwork on the walls. Every fibre of my being is screaming at me. The room flip flops in an odd vertigo-like sensation. I can't do this. I want to scream. What the fuck is wrong with me? I manage to get myself up, despite the tightness that my sciatica sometimes causes. I get out of the room and I feel like I can breathe again. I don't know what's sparking such a reaction within me. Memories of Where The Wild Things Are, the monsters dancing against blood splashed walls echo through my head. I feel anxious, like the monsters from the book are going to come out from behind the paintings and get me. It's all too much. It's a mental assault that I wasn't expecting. I need to get out of here. I manage to get out of the room without spilling my guts all over the place. Why is this happening to me?! I need to focus so I can finish shooting the rest of the museum. I take a few deep breaths and think about Puffnstuff, trying to focus on something calming. It works after about 5 minutes. I'm able to get up and shovel out of the exhibit. I continue on to the other buildings of the museum, the memory of the black and white speckled wall still lingering in my head. I don't know what happened back there. Do I really want to know? 

Out on the street, flashes from the horror room explode in my mind. I need something to get it out of me. I don't see why I'm stuck on it. I spot an adorable pink, chubby piggie toy in the window of a shop and I have to go in. I don't even care what's in there I just wanna see the piggie and see if I can get him. Something deep within me screams that I need him. He's so soft. I need him even more. I don't even care what the price is. I need it. It reminds me of Puffnstuff. The ickle pink cheeks. The monsters waiting in the corners of my psyche melt away holding the stuffed toy. The twisted vines of loneliness tying me up in knots relax their grip on me. I can breathe again. I hold his soft little hand while I walk around the shop, checking out all the sweets.
(You can check out the sweet shop blog and review via the link below.)

Next up is a little restaurant/cafe to grab a drink before heading off to a tattoo convention in Montreal! It will be my first in Canada, so I want to see how they measure up compared to the other few that I've been to. Le Kitchen is a small building in what looks like an abandoned area of the city. I don't always look at the area of where I'm going or really read reviews before I go to places. I look at what places have to offer and I go there for that. I wasn't expecting this at all. I start to wonder if the place is even still here, then I see the door is open. It's a small, dirty little building. I'm not being funny here, it looks like the Charlie Bucket house.  I'm both amused and a bit concerned. I get in and it's not much cleaner looking on the inside. Very hippie. Now, I'm not really one of the free love type. I'm more of a neat guy but this...It's cute in its own way. It's nice to have a vegan cafe, but I was expecting something a little more...established? I'm perplexed but I don't make a fuss. I race for the cooler and grab 2 or 3 cool drinks to suck down. Wearing tight black skinny jeans in this heat was a mistake. I should have known better. I didn't want to eat there, I'm not trying to be mean or anything, I just wasn't sure. It's not that it wasn't clean, it's just too free commune type for me.

By the end of the day, I've walked nearly 16.1 km (10 miles) and I'm really feeling the heat. My mouth is dry and sore. I can't get enough liquid, despite pounding down a litre of cold water. Between the heat and my lack of sleep, I'm having the hardest time staying awake. I'll finish this-

SWEET SHOP: https://dannysmentalmasturbation.blogspot.com/2019/06/travelling-while-vegan-candylabs-squish.html