🇨🇦 Hammer Time

Hello Adventurers, 

I'm April's Fool, and a three week weakling because wuss Daddy marched outta Toronto after just 21 days...to go see Mommy. So what now? Well, I've headed to the Hammer where I'm hanging' tough like a new kid on the block.

Kidding! That's blockhead posturing. The truth is, I'm visiting my Mum in Hamilton: getting face time with my creator before I go destroyer mode; to head overseas, face the world, and kill kilometres to break a world record.

But really though, I was getting nailed by — and feeling nailed down in — Toronto. It's not my cup of tea...so as a coffee lover, I went somewhere that embodies the drip. And again, apologies for dunking on Toronto last week...but like a Kawhian basketball, we bounce...whether champ or chump.

Leonard got the trophy, but this spring you readers are getting the prizes:

The winner of last's week No Fun giveaway was notified by email (but scroll down 'cause there's a discount code for the rest of you), and this week I'm stoked to do a Simply the GOODZ giveaway...where FIVE Canadian residents can win some of my favourite Canadian snacks (more details below).

Also, I inadvertently posted a photo of my busted marathon feet to the interwebz last week...and a bunch of you freaks messaged me for more. I won't post the NSFW link to my newly launched Only Fans account...but check out this bank statement 'cause the money I'm making on that platform is a total joke.

Anyway, this issue mostly focuses on the recent marathons I did in wonderful Hamilton, Canada. It's a coverall union town, and this wildcat dispatch covers it all.

 - Ben Pobjoy

2023 TREK TRACKER

Where in the world...record am I?

• Countries visited: 16

• Flights taken: 25

• Kilometres flown: 37,227

• Marathons completed: 59

• Kilometres trekked by foot: 2,785.5

• Total kilometres trekked since 2015: 65,877

RAPID WEEKLY RECAP

A speedy synopsis for time-crunched readers

• The Wildest Thing: The Parkdale lovechild of Eminem and Joe Dirt attempting to physically assault me on a Toronto marathon, and him regretting his decision🤕

• The Biggest Obstacle: Marathoning five days a week while trying to see friends and family while making this newsletter while planning and plotting the Q2 phase of my Marathon Earth Challenge...there's just not enough hours in the days right now🫣

• The Lesson Learned: Don't let others pull focus when you need to focus on the task at hand🧐

REILLY REDUX

I profiled No Fun whiz T. Reilly Hodgson in last week's issue...but couldn't photograph him at the time 'cause his studio assistant got sick (and Reilly had to pack mail orders solo).

Anyhoo, I swung by Reilly's studio this week on a Toronto marathon to catch up with him, and grab the 'Studio Rules' newsletter giveaway prize. And Reilly did something cool:

He created a 20% 'Ben' discount code for readers of this newsletter. It applies to everything on No Fun's online store (and is valid for the month of April 2023).

Oh, and just to be clear...this discount code isn't affiliate marketing chicanery. It's just Reilly being rad. So please support this Toronto maker 'cause 100% of your hard-earned money will go directly to this hard-working small business!

UP FOR GRABS: 'SIMPLY THE GOODZ' GIVEAWAY

The Giveaway:

Five super snacky prize packs that each contain three different bags of Benny P’s favourite 'Simply the GOODZ' flavours / mixes…so long as you live in Canada (because international shipping rates are atrocious here…sawry).

All you have to do is reply to this email and communicate that you want in! And if you don't end up winning, but want a taste…then you can buy the product directly from the GOODZ website as well as from these Canadian retailers.

The Backstory:

Last summer I left my job in order to plan and plot the Marathon Earth Challenge, and my moonwalk outta the marketing world made the news in an industry trade mag. A former colleague read the piece, and did something thoughtful: she CC’d me on an ‘intro email’ to Compass Food Sales Inc., Canada’s #1 importer of dried fruits and nuts.

I can’t remember Joan’s exact words, but they were something like, “This plant-based buffoon is doing something crazy…and you lot may be a good fit.”

And it was super fitting because Compass had recently launched a new brand called Simply the GOODZ, a lineup of unapologetically good dried fruit and nut snacks. And befitting of me…because I’m a huge consumer of all things trail mix-y: dried fruit gives me a glycemic lift on marathons, and the healthy fats of nuts keep me feeling satiated (and ensures I don’t wither away…because my marathons typically burn 2,500 calories).

Anyway, Jaclyn the CEO and Sarah from the brand team kindly sent me 20+ bags of GOODZ last August. And the snacks were an absolute staple that month when I did a trial of 23 marathons in 31 days…to see if my Marathon Earth Challenge project would even be feasible. And it was.

I liked my month-long marathon challenge, but loved the genuine people at the company as well as their fantastic product. So here’s the goods about the GOODZ…straight from my mouth:

• Jaclyn and Sarah are real ones. They hooked me up in 2022 without even knowing me: I didn’t have to jump through any hoops, and they didn’t ask me to do anything in return. Straight-up supporters! Respect!

• In my opinion, the GOODZ flavours / mixes are the best in the category. It wins on taste, and blows everything else outta the water

• The GOODZ has high quality vegan ingredients that are gluten free and mega in their Omegas

• The colourful packaging makes my eyes happy, and the innovative recyclable packaging makes my soul even happier

• The ‘brand talk’ matches the ‘product’s walk’

• This is a female-led, Canadian challenger brand…and I’ll ALWAYS root for that!

• When I asked Jaclyn and Sarah if we could do a giveaway together in the newsletter, they were automatically supportive because they’re cool like that

Rules and Regs:

• Five GOODZ prize packs with three different bags of flavours / mixes are up for grabs...and if you're allergic to nuts this may not be the giveaway for you

• This giveaway is open to all BPN subscribers with a Canadian mailing address who received this issue at the time of publishing

• You have until 5PM EST on Friday, April 7th 2023 to reply to this email and enter

• I’m then putting all names into a hat and doing a random draw

• I will announce the five winners by first name only in the next issue of the newsletter

• I will then email you for your mailing address, and the GOODZ will send you your prize by mail

• No purchase necessary…but following the GOODZ on social is appreciated

• This isn't legally binding

Full Transparency:

• I have no financial relations with the brand. Rather, I’m just a fan of the brand, wanted to give the product a little exposure (after it fuelled me for a month last year), and because I wanted to reward some readers…because that’s super fun to do

• I’m no stooge! All the copy is my own; written by me, and reflects how I honestly feel about the people and product

FIELD NOTES: HAMILTON, CANADA

This steel town stole my heart a long time ago

In 1995, I unintentionally went to my first strip club in Hamilton at fourteen years-old. And not for the nudity, but because my friend was on the verge of pooing his pants, and because he needed a washroom, stat.

We had just eaten questionable falafels en route to a hardcore punk show — and his pita sandwich turned his stomach — and he didn’t have the stomach to risk it in the always questionable punk club toilets; they’re consistently nasty and foul.

Anyway, the movies made it seem like strip clubs were sexy, but this one wasn’t. It was dingy, stuck in the ‘80s, and the teased hair stripper danced to Metallica’s ‘Enter Sandman’; the speedy sounds of which triggered a seizure-inducing strobe light from the stage as well as the gruff hollers of ‘hell yeahs’ and the clinking of glass’d brewskis from the bikers that were present. The music, the men, the marvel…I just recall it all being so incongruous with the stripper’s sultry swaying.

I didn’t fall in love with the peeler, but I did fall in love with Hamilton that night; it was just so rough and raw and full of riff-raff, and it reminded me of Manchester in the UK: a working class city with the requisite working class characters where my muppet-like, fag smoking, hunchback’d Nan lived, drank, and karaoke’d with my navy sailor Grandad Gerry (who won a swimming race in Malta in the ‘50s, and was prized with a tiger tattoo on his forearm). Madchester was a happening place that we visited regularly with my Mum as kids and teens, a place where human theatre was always on display in the streets (and in the markets and in the working men’s clubs), and a place where I always loved the show. It just always lit me up with laughter, puzzlement, and intrigue.

But back in Canada things were different; the teen-y and suburban Southern Ontario hardcore punk scene that I was a part of in the mid ‘90s was saccharine safe. Like, if a stage dive went wrong, someone was always kind enough to pick you up and make things right.

But the hardcore punk scene in neighbouring Hamilton was a different animal. It was hostile, it was the first place I saw scary older punks tattooed from their toes up to their throats, and it was my first encounter with attitudinal ‘locals only’ type bands who constantly fought the crowd in attendance (because they loved chaos and hated outsiders).

I never caught a punch to the face, but lots of my friends did. And at the time, the sense of danger was intoxicating to my straight edge self. In hindsight, it was sorta weird: grown men beating little kids with their hammer-sized fists and instruments. If anything, it taught me that most self-professed 'tough guys' are cowards...when push comes to shoving kids.

While Teenage Head gets the credit for being the most known punk band outta Hamilton, they were way before my time, and didn’t click. For me, it was all about Chokehold, then Left for Dead (their debut demo tape is/was the most vicious thing I’ve ever heard), and finally Cursed (specifically the first LP). And Haymaker. They actually sucked, and had to build their hype on fighting the crowd...because their songwriting stunk more than a punk club’s pisser. But their name was fitting. And still holds true for what you can catch on Hamilton streets today, at any hour and on any day.

Anyway, I’ve got a history with Hamilton, and luckily got a bit of a future with it too; my Mum moved here last year, and I regularly visit. 

I love it for her Northern English soul, and I love it for me…because this place still lights me up with laughter, puzzlement, and intrigue. Sorta like some of the following soot-y gems in — and around — Hamilton’s manly manufactories and belching smokestacks...all of which continue to stoke the flame of my burning love affair with this place...

When you go to places like Mecca or Bethlehem, you sorta gotta acknowledge that they're holy outta the gates...whether you believe the gates of heaven to be real or not. And the same applies to Hamilton, which is home to the first ever Tim Hortons location that sold donuts.

In Canada, the coffeehouse chain is ubiquitous...and their gut-rotting donuts are a beloved national dish eaten by morning commuters craving bowel-wrenching constipation dislodged by Tims drano drip coffee. As such, it felt necessary to do a pilgrimage-via-marathon to Timmies' revamped 1964 location...which has a fun retro service counter and a museum exhibit upstairs.

This place is satanic hallowed ground coffee...because the chain serves a brew that's hotter than hell. And it's a hard pass for this evil-hating dope...because my God is more refined and Italian (i.e. doppio espresso).

If you like thrifting, antiques, vintage, and discount stores then you'll love Hamilton. Why? Because it's packed with lots of 'em (all of which have less FU pricing than Toronto), and they're plentifully stocked and quirky and full of wonderful weirdos.

My favourite is the Hamilton Antique Mall which has floors and floors of vendor stalls. And you get bang for your buck in the surrounding area...because Ottawa Street North is spattered with sellers of all-things-old.

And my Mum recently put the nearby Loco Bins on my radar...which is a new favourite of mine. It's like a Battle Royale experience where people go at it to wade through crates of packages which they rip apart to find deals on expired food and/or things that seem like Amazon returns and/or dead stock.

While Filter here is great and open to the public and wicked for furniture...nothing can out-smash Smash Salvage (pictured below). Unfortunately, their showroom is no longer open to the public — I've got no clue why — so you gotta follow their IG to score wins...because whoever does the inventory picking is the best in the game.

Overall, Hamilton is going through a 'renaissance' which is just a term invaders use to justify gentrification. It is what it is...the reality is/was that so many people got priced out elsewhere, moved here, and now the prices are going up in Hamilton...which is the cruel cycle of it all. But it all combines to produce an interesting mix of new and old along Main Street, King Street, and Barton Street. And I encourage you to stroll 'em in this shapeshifting-before-your-eyes city.

Lastly, one thing I want to acknowledge is that it's easy / lazy to distill downtown Hamilton down to just its miscreants and their madness. Yes, they exist in oodles losing their noodles...but I saw a lot of locals helping people in need (i.e. distributing meals to the hungry, putting drunks back in their wheelchairs, helping meth maniacs get back on their crashed e-motorcycle scooter thingies, etc).

I've travelled a lot, and one thing I've noticed — when marathoning through places with strong organized labour movements — is that these places have a stronger recognition of the codependence of human life. Unions aren't perfect, but they do seem to foster an 'us' mindset versus 'mind your business' places that don't pay any mind to human suffering. Hamilton isn't a nice place per se...it's a bit of a dump, but I'll take a buried-heart-of-gold shithead over an alpha asshole any day of the week. And really, that's why this place — blemishes and all — makes me flush, with fondness.

MEET-A-MAKER: SARA FROESE

Someone's doing something right, because along a sparse industrial strip in lower Hamilton — where the big rigs kick-up big stones — sits The Cotton Factory. It is an 'adaptive reuse' building from 1900 that has been renovated, carved-up, and re-imagined as a huge and beautiful space for makers. And Sara Froese — the owner/operator of All Sorts Press — is by far my favourite tenant there.

Froese may be small in frame and stature...but she's a total giant when it comes to creativity and craftswomanship. And what annoys me most, is that she is so damn good at so many art practices: she's a graphic designer, she's an illustrator, and she's the operator of early-mid century printing presses that she harnesses to make luxury handcrafted printed matter. And if that's not enough, she's also a talented musician (playing both bass and violin...because she obviously has to excel at multiple instruments). 

The kicker? None of those things necessarily mean much if done poorly...but Froese richly combines them all to be special by virtue of her great taste, her style in heaps, and her sharp eye for shape, colour, and material.

Anyway, you ever meet someone and think, "You've cracked the code on life and I wish I was you?" Well, I totally feel that way about Sara...so much so that I'd do a body / life swap in an instant — and while I'm not gay — I'd be fine dating her punk poet partner (who — even if you hate punk music — is undeniably the best working writer and lyricist in Canada right now). But back to Sara...she's the type of creative I wish I could be, but I only have a third of her creativity and a quarter of her work ethic (and I'm fibbing those numbers in my favour).

Sara's work is so visual and tactile that I — or anyone — can't do it justice with a digital photograph consumed through a computer or a phone. You really have to see it and feel it in real life...because it's the manifestation of physical beauty. This is why I'm encouraging you to follow her Instagram (it's amazing visual inspo), and to go to one of her open studio events. She, her studio space, her work, the sounds of the presses, and the elaborate process of it all...it just knocks your socks off when you see it all together IRL.

And one last anecdote...when I swung by the studio, Sara was mixing a few different pigmented inks to make taupe ink by hand and eye. I commented how crazy that is — one having that heightened degree of colour theory expertise as well as the knowledge of how much of each pigment to add — and Sara sorta shrugged and went, "Well, the Pantone book gives you the colour values"...and that's fine and dandy when you're inputing the values into an automated machine, but very hard to do manually.

And if anything, it just proves my overall point: that Sara Froese is a creative machine. 

BEST LOCAL THING-Y

If you go to Hamilton and refuse to smoke a pack of darts (to give yourself black lung), refuse to drink a whole pot of drip coffee (to give yourself kidney stones), and refuse to eat a half-dozen donuts (to necessitate a caesarean)…were you even there? Answer: no. Your bougie ass may have boogied through, but you surely didn’t ‘go in’ and give this working class place the disrespect it deserves.

Here, all of the above are your duty to destroy, and Donut Monster is my absolute reco for made-from-scratch-daily donuts. It’s why I routinely do 60+ kilometre ultras to get out here from Toronto…to eat six DM donuts.

Pain is contextual…so I’ll eat a half-dozen donuts in one blast post-ultra to give myself searing stomach cramps to distract my mind from my busted-by-that-point feet. And it’s all worth it. Yes, the logic is flawed...but your narrator is a mad man.

Me, I’m partial to the classic apple fritter at Donut Monster. And there's not much to say...it's just real fresh with high-quality ingredients and expertly made, and massive. And it’s vegan, and is the best fritter I’ve ever had from anywhere. But don't fret...if your appetite is more alpha than my 'beta soy boy' ways, do know that Donut Monster has loads of regular donuts too. And for the Only Fans foot freaks, they even have weird donuts that are sarsaparilla-flavoured or fried pickle-topped...but that shit's too unorthodox for my boring-ass tastebuds.

POBJOY'S GLOBAL PRICE INDEX

This is an on-going documentation of how much things cost in different places around the world. Here are some of the things I bought in Hamilton (all prices converted to USD):

• Eight tubes of Nuun hydration tablets from a discount store that must've fallen off the back of a truck: $6

• Two apple fritter donuts with tip from Donut Monster: $7.50

• One gigantic rice crispy square and one gigantic nanaimo bar with tip from Coven Market: $10.50

MARATHON MUSINGS

The ABCs on how to foster a playful spirit of discovery

I’m not a walker, hiker, runner, marathoner, traveller, writer, photographer or documentarian. To you, maybe. But to me, no.

Sure, I do a lot of those things as both physical and creative practices, but they’re really not me…even though I use some of those words to describe what I do; done because those words expeditiously get to the point, of easier comprehension.

But conceptually, I’m actually something different; something sillier and with a fittingly silly name…for how to live silly: as in playfully strange in a world that I personally find to be way too serious, too competitive, and too driven by the zero-sum game of trying to win at all costs (be it human or environmental or whatever else).

Me? I’m a proud loser. And not the ‘woe is me’ kind, but more of the ‘get lost-er’ kind. And the latter isn’t something hollered at me as rejection (except by security guards when I’m trespassing), it’s something I embrace as a rejection of capitalism’s uninspired and unimaginative insistence that I always gotta be somewhere doing something money-making productive or buying some thing or buying some service or buying some experience, and/or working somewhere doing something just so I can afford to do it all again tomorrow. Literally kill me. Total snooze fest existence.

Anyway, there’s that saying, “Fuck around and find out.” And it’s sorta my vibe sans the intimation of violence. But like, yes, go screw around and freely discover. Me? I’m more, “Fart around and find out.” And not in the pre-turd loaf sense, but in the timeless loafer, slacker sense.

The truth is, I’m a flâneur. And the 'get lost' historical tradition of flânerie is what inspires me to move every day in every way. And my overarching obsession in — and with — life? It's psychogeography...which is basically just 'anarchistic athletics' expressed through all the travel I do and all the dispatches I unfurl into the void. And the latter,  it's just my attempt to make sense of the modern world — and record how it makes me feel — through my banal art and copy.

I don't talk about flânerie or psychogeography much, if ever really. And that's just because my smarter-than-me strategist friend Tim counselled me on this project last year — giving much needed form to my Marathon Earth Challenge — and he was like, “Dude, that stuff may be true…but no one knows what the hell any of that stuff is or means.” So we landed on solid ground terms like 'marathoner' and 'documentarian' to make Pobjoy palatable to the press.

And I'm not into proselytism...I'm more 'intentional aimless wanderer' for the sake of making one's own magical discoveries, and I'm a choose-your-own-adventure vibe'r in general. But do check out stuff on flânerie and/or psychogeography if you care to...or don't if you don't care to.

I only bring all this up because I randomly went into a new-to-me magazine store called 'Issues' on Dundas Street West in Toronto on an aimless marathon, and a magazine called 'Flaneur' caught my attention. IMO it is really cool; "An annual magazine walking one street per issue."

But randomness. And discovery. And that magazine — which I didn't know existed — and its name (which is a thing I know to be magical), and just the delight of how it made me feel spontaneously stumbling on it all...that's meta, and flânerie and psychogeography in a nutshell. It's also how I tripped into ABC Books on Yonge Street years and years ago.

Get lost. Fart around. Celebrate aimlessness. Vibe out. Go slow. Go far. Take stock. Be free. Share your findings as no-strings-attached offerings. Spend less money to feel more alive. And hold the door open for others before you go on your merry-thon way.

There's lots of letters in the previous paragraph of my mumbo jumbo musing, but in it too are some ABCs on how to foster a playful spirit of discovery.

Love it or hate it, it's my love language for this wacky world I love so much, for our wonderful world that speaks to me in tongues like nothing else.

Have any questions about the content of this newsletter? Reply to it, and I'll try and answer you when it's safe to do so!