It was 5 years ago now that I moved to Toronto.

It seemed like so long I was the new kid. Stories from afar (ooh, Montreal), asking how to get around, what’s fun on weekends. By the time I knew what was fun on weekends I was telling people to check out Expensive Shit at 56 Kensington. Lowest ceilings in town, a sweaty basement with $3 beer (which at the time I could not afford) and dubious fishtanks.

(The other party was Hot Times, though both apparently stood in the shadows of Block Party, which was before my time.)

In hindsight, many of the people I know now went to these events, many I met there. But at the time they were dark, they were mysterious.