20-02-2008 06:00 hrs

The hour was absurd, I was exhausted, and I ignored the ringing phone.

Steve called again, and thinking that the circumstances must be out of the ordinary, I picked up the phone.

In a calm, but serious voice, he informed me that there was a major fire burning on Queen Street, and that National Sound was on fire.

I called Anthony's cell phone.

He answered the phone, and I heard him say, I was going to let you sleep, but I guess you found out.

In shock, I asked him what was happening.

He explained that a fire had apparently started downstairs in my studio, and that he had been evacuated through the front window of the apartment.

He had been able to save only 3 items from the fire. Everything else was gone.

I asked about the studio. He said that it was all gone.

His words were not making sense to me.

I first became aware of the reality of what was happening, when I saw images on the Internet, of firefighters breaking down the door to my studio, while flames licked through the roof over an area I knew to be the washroom, or at least, very close to it.

When the door was opened, tongues of flame licked towards the suited firefighters. They didn’t jump back. But I did.

As unbelievable as it seemed, my studio was on fire, and practically the whole block, was on fire.

I panicked.

I played back my actions the previous night. I had been at the studio until just a few hours before the fire. I had been recording some music, and ended the night with a workout, after which I left.

Before leaving the studio, as always, I did a safety check, which involved turning off the gear, some lights I didn’t trust to turn my back on, unplugging any unsafe extension cords and looking for lit candles.

I had done all of those things. What had I missed?

I wanted to curl up under the sheets and sleep until this nightmare ended. But this was not a time when sleep could come.

Eventually I went down to the scene, and started shooting footage..

The block where I had previously shot the original footage for the film, was off limits, because a fire of historic proportions was slowly but surely eating its way through my world.

20-02-2008 06:00 hrs

The hour was absurd, I was exhausted, and I ignored the ringing phone.

Steve called again, and thinking that the circumstances must be out of the ordinary, I picked up the phone.

In a calm, but serious voice, he informed me that there was a major fire burning on Queen Street, and that National Sound was on fire.

I called Anthony's cell phone.

He answered the phone, and I heard him say, I was going to let you sleep, but I guess you found out.

In shock, I asked him what was happening.

He explained that a fire had apparently started downstairs in my studio, and that he had been evacuated through the front window of the apartment.

He had been able to save only 3 items from the fire. Everything else was gone.

I asked about the studio. He said that it was all gone.

His words were not making sense to me.

I first became aware of the reality of what was happening, when I saw images on the Internet, of firefighters breaking down the door to my studio, while flames licked through the roof over an area I knew to be the washroom, or at least, very close to it.

When the door was opened, tongues of flame licked towards the suited firefighters. They didn’t jump back. But I did.

As unbelievable as it seemed, my studio was on fire, and practically the whole block, was on fire.

I panicked.

I played back my actions the previous night. I had been at the studio until just a few hours before the fire. I had been recording some music, and ended the night with a workout, after which I left.

Before leaving the studio, as always, I did a safety check, which involved turning off the gear, some lights I didn’t trust to turn my back on, unplugging any unsafe extension cords and looking for lit candles.

I had done all of those things. What had I missed?

I wanted to curl up under the sheets and sleep until this nightmare ended. But this was not a time when sleep could come.

Eventually I went down to the scene, and started shooting footage..

The block where I had previously shot the original footage for the film, was off limits, because a fire of historic proportions was slowly but surely eating its way through my world.

20-02-2008 06:00 hrs

The hour was absurd, I was exhausted, and I ignored the ringing phone.

Steve called again, and thinking that the circumstances must be out of the ordinary, I picked up the phone.

In a calm, but serious voice, he informed me that there was a major fire burning on Queen Street, and that National Sound was on fire.

I called Anthony's cell phone.

He answered the phone, and I heard him say, I was going to let you sleep, but I guess you found out.

In shock, I asked him what was happening.

He explained that a fire had apparently started downstairs in my studio, and that he had been evacuated through the front window of the apartment.

He had been able to save only 3 items from the fire. Everything else was gone.

I asked about the studio. He said that it was all gone.

His words were not making sense to me.

I first became aware of the reality of what was happening, when I saw images on the Internet, of firefighters breaking down the door to my studio, while flames licked through the roof over an area I knew to be the washroom, or at least, very close to it.

When the door was opened, tongues of flame licked towards the suited firefighters. They didn’t jump back. But I did.

As unbelievable as it seemed, my studio was on fire, and practically the whole block, was on fire.

I panicked.

I played back my actions the previous night. I had been at the studio until just a few hours before the fire. I had been recording some music, and ended the night with a workout, after which I left.

Before leaving the studio, as always, I did a safety check, which involved turning off the gear, some lights I didn’t trust to turn my back on, unplugging any unsafe extension cords and looking for lit candles.

I had done all of those things. What had I missed?

I wanted to curl up under the sheets and sleep until this nightmare ended. But this was not a time when sleep could come.

Eventually I went down to the scene, and started shooting footage..

The block where I had previously shot the original footage for the film, was off limits, because a fire of historic proportions was slowly but surely eating its way through my world.

April 18 appeared on the calendar.

Like a ghost, Alison appeared to me on the street. She looked lost, and was reluctant to speak to me, and we exchanged only stiff hellos.

Soon, it would be two months after the Queen Street Fire of 2008, and still no cause had been announced by the fire department.

There were still many rumours in play, most of which continued to make no sense at all.

There were suggestions that my landlord bore ultimate responsibility for the fire, either through his acts, or his failures to act.

There were suggestions that angry neighbours collaborated with the police to eliminate the problems associated with certain businesses and residents living in the fire zone.

There were suggestions that the fire had been set to consummate a real estate deal of some kind.

My favourite was the rat theory. In this scenario, a rodent with the word infamy written on its back, chewed through faulty wiring in the building, sufficiently to short out live wires, providing a source of ignition that resulted in the fire.

The most sinister, was a theory that supposed a disgruntled resident, with an axe to grind against my landlord, started the fire whilst intoxicates with the fumes of the crack pipe. This theory worked nicely for me, because it explained the seeming irrationality of the act.

I found it difficult to see how the fire benefited anyone financially or otherwise. So if it had been deliberately set, then it must have been done by someone who was not well grounded in consensual reality when they committed the act.

As well, the possibility remained open, that a simple innocuous, accidental root cause had destroyed most of a city block in downtown Toronto on a cold, cold February morning. That would make the fire, almost routine.

But if this had been a routine fire, then a cause would have quickly been found and assigned to the event, wouldn’t it? But the smell on my coat two months later reminds me that this had been no routine fire.

And my last conversation with the lead investigator, had suggested to me that there were still questions at 14 Division, over what roles had been played by all the moving parts, in the events immediately leading up to time the fire was noticed and reported, by Anthony.

April 18 appeared on the calendar.

Like a ghost, Alison appeared to me on the street. She looked lost, and was reluctant to speak to me, and we exchanged only stiff hellos.

Soon, it would be two months after the Queen Street Fire of 2008, and still no cause had been announced by the fire department.

There were still many rumours in play, most of which continued to make no sense at all.

There were suggestions that my landlord bore ultimate responsibility for the fire, either through his acts, or his failures to act.

There were suggestions that angry neighbours collaborated with the police to eliminate the problems associated with certain businesses and residents living in the fire zone.

There were suggestions that the fire had been set to consummate a real estate deal of some kind.

My favourite was the rat theory. In this scenario, a rodent with the word infamy written on its back, chewed through faulty wiring in the building, sufficiently to short out live wires, providing a source of ignition that resulted in the fire.

The most sinister, was a theory that supposed a disgruntled resident, with an axe to grind against my landlord, started the fire whilst intoxicates with the fumes of the crack pipe. This theory worked nicely for me, because it explained the seeming irrationality of the act.

I found it difficult to see how the fire benefited anyone financially or otherwise. So if it had been deliberately set, then it must have been done by someone who was not well grounded in consensual reality when they committed the act.

As well, the possibility remained open, that a simple innocuous, accidental root cause had destroyed most of a city block in downtown Toronto on a cold, cold February morning. That would make the fire, almost routine.

But if this had been a routine fire, then a cause would have quickly been found and assigned to the event, wouldn’t it? But the smell on my coat two months later reminds me that this had been no routine fire.

And my last conversation with the lead investigator, had suggested to me that there were still questions at 14 Division, over what roles had been played by all the moving parts, in the events immediately leading up to time the fire was noticed and reported, by Anthony.