myth and the city

I find the concepts of myth and urbanism combining in my mind more and more lately. There's magic in cities, and there's heroes and heroines, legends, and - if a neighbourhood's been around long enough - there's folklore.

As I experience the stop-and-go rhythms of rush hour traffic in my daily commute to work; it leaves me quite a bit of time to examine the scenery. This is where myth comes into play, as strange, fantastical tales develop in my head, but in an urban setting.

Old school fairytales a la Hans Christian Andersen, mix with the multi-racial city of my imagination, all to a Roni Size-influenced soundtrack.

I amuse myself by picturing Queen Street West yuppies running around and screaming, spilling their extra-hot soy lattes (no whipped, please), as Toronto gets attacked by a raging dragon. God knows how many airport limo drivers out there think I'm crazy, as they honk and overtake me as I sit there, giggling.

It's a pastiche of childhood literary memories, altered by an infatuation with pulp fiction and real beat poetry, combined with environmental concerns, and interpreted in the context of an ongoing lover's brawl with the city I live in.

The Little Mermaid becomes a horrific genetic mutation - half snakehead, half human, and nowhere near amazing. She haunts my nightmares, reeking of sewage, wearing zebra mussels as pasties. Take it as a warning.

Snow White's an African albino, modelled after an old acquaintance called Yellowman, who hustles her way through the city, loses seven years to mental illness, and is finally rescued, not by a white prince on a white horse, but by the implementation of culturally aware social services.

I gotta write this down.