Condo Makeover, originally uploaded by deadrobot.

Up on Wellesley, this poor development has had a hard time of selling to the masses, due to the neighbours: Jamestown is right across the street and I guess they’re not appreciating their property values rising. When they first erected the sales office, it was tagged within hours. Then constantly paint bombed/spray painted almost nightly. Mostly stuff about how affordable housing was needed rather than gentrification.

Then this subtle attraction appeared (since gone). See the big photoshopped “condo scene” of young gay males enjoying their new patio, just there on the left of the photo? An adventurous artist added to the photo for social awareness.

I ride the subway every day. I see all manner of weirdness and human degradation every time I take the better way and not much can shock or enrage me anymore.

Except for one thing.

Women applying make up in transit.

For some reason I find it as repulsive as full-on meal eating or sneezing open mouthed. What the hell are they thinking? Unless they have a steady-cam arm, how can they even hope to apply a straight lip line?

I also get kind of sick to my stomach when I start thinking that their make up flakes are flying off their faces as they slather on the foundation, onto my skin. Much like when I get enraged when smokers carelessly flick their cigarette ash out into the world and it lands on me.

It’s one time I wish I was able to fart on command.

Update: I want to be clear, I don’t mind the quick touch up here and there, that’s no bother. But the last person who did this beside me was doing the whole hog.

I’m getting really disillusioned with Cabbagetown.

You’ve might have read that we nearly had our bikes stolen again the other night. In the process of getting the broken lock off the bike, the assistant to the landlord admonished us for tempting the thieves in the area by leaving our bikes out in plain view. On private property. Oh I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I wasn’t suppose to taunt the crack heads with my existence. I know the difference between “keeping your home secure” and “not letting the terror of crime ruin your life” but come on. The bikes are a full story off the ground on a fire escape – they’re hardly “accessible” and extremely visible to all neighbours and passers by.

I use to marvel at the deep integration of cultures and varying levels of income contained within Cabbagetown. It seemed to me to be a community that worked. Now I feel like I need a shower after visiting my local grocery store. I worry about every noise I hear outside my window after midnight. I steal glances out the back door into the alleyway where I take my laundry, where a few months ago, the police informed us that someone was kidnapped and pistol whipped. And of course, we’re finishing up another summer of the screechy homeless lady who is so angry with me for calling the cops on her nearly nightly, I’m beginning to wonder if she’s going to “do” something in our doorway with those matches she uses for her crack intake.

It seems that I’m getting alienated from my community by my fears. Obviously I’m frustrated.

Time for another ’round of letters. Maybe I’ll CC in City TV and other various news media. See if they can rattle Pam’s cage and get her ass in gear.