Sailing heartships through broken harboUrs... yes it's hard to make arrangements with myself.

Last month I lost a rhythm section, I lost a job, I lost a tire on my cheap orange bicycle, and I lost the motivation to pay to live in a crowded house that smelled of cat piss. I was almost done my record. My best friends were in Europe pursuing their various passions. A slave to my environment, I was at the moody mercy of nightlife and weather. All I had was this town and so I did the only logical thing. I hated on it, and then I lost Toronto too.

It has been almost a month since I ripped down the 401, stereo blaring Spoon and Hot Snakes, past a well-paved Cornwall and into the poutine and pothole province with my record collection and a rented drum kit. (Paul's Boutique is the best. It's true!!!)

Having lived on Dovercourt (the hipster strip) and in Kensington market for two years as a Montréal ex-pat (tabernac!), and having attended the countless concerts and rock shows and parties that punctuate the Toronto art scene, I pondered my position as a Montréaler in Toronto. I am the middle sister to two cities' worth of sibling rivalry. Break it up brothers, let's stay together!

Montréal is sexy if not flamboyant, and rife with experimentalist in every field. People are passionate and get signed to Constellation Records. Indie rockers walk down the main in vintage lingerie. But this isn't about clothes, this is about abandon and spirit. It is the ability to live effortlessly that is Montréal's struggle. This isn't vanity, this is lifestyle. Montréal feels that difference. And I feel Montréal's eyes creep up and down the spines of people who just don't have that je ne sais quoi. Because the city has such a strong sense of identity, it demands the same from its residents and passersby. What may appear to be a shallow glance is usually more of an affirmation of self.
Toronto is slightly more awkward '“ but less judgmental '“ and has a wicked sense of humour about itself. It is less haphazard and more intentional about achieving. This is by no means a flaw, just a difference. Mommy Ottawa doesn't worry about Toronto doing well in school and in life, if you know what I mean. I dropped out of school in Toronto, and surrendered myself to my artistic whims '“ whims born and bred in the city of my birth. Initially I came to Toronto because I wanted access to a centrifugal point: A soapbox with a good transit system, a loud loudspeaker and an audience to be an audible part of. I found all that. And family. And community. And hybrid forms of love.

But when it comes to making art, where do I want to be? In the city with a good head on its shoulders, or in the city with its heart all twisted up on its sleeve? I wake up in la belle province and don't feel rushed or manic or like pacing around a bar. I feel my genetics unwinding with a thicker accent. But I was married to Toronto. The music and the voices that bash it out!!! I miss waltzing around and running into haphazard keyboard jams on College Street. I miss knowing the names of the bouncers at the rock clubs. I miss how even half-price fajitas are kind of expensive. And I miss the inexplicable buzz of I-deal coffee. I miss people that can parody the way I dance when I'm really freaking out. (Like Toronto, it isn't pretty, but it's sincere, damnit!) I even miss bitching people out for not wanting to party in the empty space in front of a stage.

So I will be back in a matter of time. And I will likely be back here in a matter of time after that. I need to find new musicians to play with and a less feline place to live. I have to be a sister or a lover unmarried to location. I should be so lucky! I wish only to be loyal to hearts and not to homes. Because I get restless when I lie down, I get sick of either town, and because there's no way I'm moving to Cornwall.

*Jessie Stein is the captain of the heart ship S.S. Cardiacs. The Way I See It is now a rotating opinion space. To contribute, email Jonny Dovercourt '” jonny@wavelengthtoronto.com