Occasionally I think of taking books we’ve purchased ourselves to the used bookstore to recoup the costs, but then I think of the gift I wouldn’t be giving to my neighbourhood. I have great finds from mine and libraries all over because people chose to pass their purchases along. Better still, watching those people who stop and browse in front of my house makes me endlessly happy; it’s a way that we connect to total strangers in this anonymous city.
Growing up, and into my late 20's, I was a big Matthew Good (Band) fan.
I attended all of his shows, traveled within a couple of hours to see him in other locations, and bought every album that came out.
When I learned about IRC and found mIRC I immediately found my people in the Matthew Good channel and subsequently had access to previously unreleased materials, historical demos, and some obscure subculture items.
I wasn't a super-fan by the definition of many of the people in that IRC channel, but I was a fan. I bought his book and printed my own personal copy of his online manifestos (which, now that I remember, I lent to an old friend and need to get it back).
But, as with time, tastes change and I moved on from Good and his works. Most days, I don’t think of Matthew Good or his band. But, from time to time I’ll queue-up one of the albums I grew up on and reminisce. And, if I’m in the mood, I’ll check out something new from Good. Most of the time the new stuff doesn’t stick— but today, Zero Hour struck a chord.
Perhaps it’s the collaboration with Saukrates that caught my attention, or the EP length album that has hints of Good’s musical roots threaded throughout. Whatever it was, I’ve had this album on repeat all day and am considering checking out one of his Live shows next month.
For as long as I can remember, I haven’t been much of a TV person.
I’ve always gravitated toward films, which I find offer a deeper sense of immersion— a complete story contained within its own world. Television, by contrast, often feels constrained by serialization: fixed episode lengths, formulaic story arcs, predictable character development, and the ever-present pull of ratings. Movies, on the other hand, provide a more flexible and self-contained storytelling format, with clearly defined beginnings and endings.
That said, I do occasionally return to great TV series for their exceptional writing (anything by Aaron Sorkin), captivating stories (nearly anything from HBO), or, at times, simply to switch my brain off (ugh, Sons of Anarchy).
Lately, though, I’ve found myself watching more television than I ever have. Despite keeping quite busy, I seem to have pockets of downtime where I just want to unplug.1 One way I’ve been doing that is by watching more shows. In the evenings, my spouse and I often wind down by finding something we can both agree on—no small feat given our differing tastes: they lean toward murder mysteries and “reality” TV, while I prefer thrillers, sharp dialogue, and the occasional rewatch of a classic.
All of this is to say: here are three shows I’m watching (or recently watched) that I probably wouldn’t have touched in the past.
Workin’ Moms (2017-2023)
Workin’ Moms (2017–2023) was an interesting watch. Over its seven seasons, the show evolved from a raunchy comedy to a more critical look at life’s messier, most challenging moments— before eventually settling into an uneven hybrid of the two. The storylines became inconsistent, and the character development often felt weak and uneven. Still, we found ourselves laughing out loud several times per episode and were pleasantly surprised that a piece of CanCon from CBC managed to entertain us both. It’s worth watching as a light escape from the everyday and for something refreshingly different.
The Summer I Turned Pretty (2022-2025)
My spouse was surprised when I suggested we watch The Summer I Turned Pretty (2022–2025), given its origins as a series of teen romance novels. My interest came from a Globe and Mail review, now lost to the archives, that suggested the show was worth watching. If I recall correctly, the article compared it to Friday Night Lights (2006–2011), arguing that beneath its surface, it offered unexpected emotional depth. I was skeptical of that claim but decided to give it a try.
We’re only partway through the first season, and I have to admit— I’m enjoying it. In some ways, it reminds me of Normal People (2020), though without the same caliber of writing, acting, or cinematography that made the Irish book-to-series adaptation so remarkable.
Bloodline (2015-2017)
When Bloodline (2015-2017) premiered in 2015, I watched it immediately and was hooked. A psychological thriller set in Florida— what could be better? I probably binged the entire first season over a weekend. But when the later seasons were released, I didn’t bother. I’ve always felt that most shows (or movie series) should quit while they’re ahead rather than chasing ratings or profits; too many stay on TV past their prime.
Recently, with some extra time on my hands, I decided to revisit Bloodline and watch the remaining two seasons. The first season still holds the most impact, while the third becomes increasingly unhinged— both in story and character; but overall, it’s been an interesting and entertaining return to this dark family drama.
Last year, during a period of non-work, I found myself watching for the first time, the complete Game of Thrones series from beginning to end over the course of two weeks. I didn’t leave the couch for days at a time. This is unlike me.
I wouldn’t call myself an architecture buff, but I enjoy looking at and experiencing well-designed buildings. I’m less taken with architects themselves— too often, their perspectives come across as pretentious or elitist. I’ll occasionally watch a documentary about architecture, but I don’t follow or idolize any one figure.
Given that, I was surprised by how engaging Ian Parker’s profile of Norman Foster in The New Yorker (January 20, 2025) turned out to be. The piece reads almost like a documentary— cinematic in pace and tone. I’d never heard of Foster before, yet realized I’d encountered many of his buildings through popular culture. While the print article omits visuals, the digital version is rich with examples of Foster + Partners’ work.
“There are some projects you don’t talk about,” he said. “We’ve all got a few of those. If somebody asks you, then: Yes, we did them. But you’d qualify how much you did and what actually happened.”
One project that especially caught my attention was an enclave of social housing in Beanhill, Milton Keynes, U.K., built during the 1970s.
Dezeen offers a fascinating synopsis of the development and considers what Foster might contribute to social housing today. What intrigued me most was how the project aimed to provide thoughtful, functional design for everyday living— an ambitious social experiment that ultimately faltered, partly because the designers misunderstood the real needs of residents. The units were later modified to make them more livable.
Despite such missteps, the sheer scope of Foster’s career is remarkable, and I found the article a genuinely rewarding read.
