I needed to take a break from the nearly-unbearable excitement of watching corn grow out here in The Heartland, so I hopped a flight to Toronto recently to remind myself what it feels like to walk the streets of a country not ruled by Bush. I had hoped to catch Douglas Coupland's Penguins at The Monte Clark Gallery, but I never made it. I did, however, run into novelist and Moogist, Jason Anderson, outside of a decommissioned porno theatre on Bloor Street one night and we debated the homo subtext of John Cougar's Pink Houses at length while basking in the warm glow of old neon.
