The 2013 Toronto Jazz Festival descends on the city this Friday with a huge “free for all” event. That means all of Friday’s programming at every Jazz Festival venue is, yes, completely free of charge. There will be concerts from local favourites Molly Johnson and Mary Margaret O’Hara, plus a show by Smokey Robinson and Martha Reeves, who will be launching the fest from its epicentre, Nathan Phillips Square.

Here’s a rundown of some of the shows worth checking out on Friday—and during the rest of the festival, when you’ll actually have to pay.

Folks who are planning on having a swim in the pool at Scadding Court Community Centre over the next few days may find themselves a little disappointed. Those who want to go fishing, however, will probably be ecstatic.

For the rest of the week, the Community Centre will be holding its annual Gone Fishin’ event, meaning its indoor pool will be an indoor fish pond. The pool has been drained, dechlorinated, and refilled with 2,000 rainbow trout, to be caught by local children and families.

Have you ever considered a career in candle huggery?

No need for a meltdown, eh? Okay, there are a million puns we could have made about this one, but we’re still wondering what exactly candle hugging is and how one gets references for it (and steady work, for that matter). Also, nice sass.

Do any of the age-old techniques of being a bro stand the test of time? Ask the Time Traveler’s Wife how she feels about it.

I think we’re all taking a lot of creative liberties by referring to this as a “Blackberry.” Yeah, it’s pretty shitty.

This is weird and creepy, but it still has nothing on that pottery scene from “Ghost.” Gross. Ugh.

A lot of people do a lot of weird stuff on the internet, and ground zero for commercial e-weirdness is Craigslist. In Declassified, Torontoist combs over our city’s listings to find the best (and worst) of the bunch. Find listings we should include in our next edition? Email them to declassified@torontoist.com.

I left you one month ago and my heart has been empty and aching since that moment.
I couldn’t bring myself to bid the cityline goodbye that I had grown to love so very much as I passed with my belongings packed in my car.
Not one day goes by that I don’t shed a tear for the life I had come to love walking your streets I had dreamed about calling my own for so long. I miss the hustle and bustle. The raving lunatics at the corner whose antics brought me joy every morning. The parks and the traffic congestion. The cold shoulders so many wear like a suit and the warm greetings of the people I encountered every day at my regular haunts.
I had only started to truly find what brought me joy within the confines of the city and now it’s all gone for me.
Nowhere will ever feel like home to me, not until I am back in the warm embrace of my city.
I will always mourn the loss of all I called home.

We imagine the following response:

Dear Not at home,
While many former acquaintances bitch and moan about how they were unable to stand spending one more second in my embrace, complaining that it was cold, even anonymous, your warm note makes me feel like you understand me perfectly. I try hard to make my domain a colourful, eclectic, and multicultural place to live and hope that the mixture of elements I create will bring joy to the hearts of those within it, even if I occasionally go overboard in making life too interesting for comfort. I am often misperceived by outsiders as cold, heartless and self-absorbed, but, like the Grinch, your message has made my heart grow by three sizes.
If you are fortunate enough to return—if I am fortunate enough that you do—I hope that we can build an even stronger relationship.
Feeling a little less lonely,
Toronto

Thanks to Torontoist reader Rachel Lissner for the tip.

Dear ISPH,
Here’s the thing. If one of these adorables did write a missed connection, it wouldn’t be about you. It would be about the tryhard romantic pretending to peruse French philosophers (or postcolonial literature, or graphic novellas) in what he “imagines” to be the coolest section of the store, instead of the sincere, deserving dude just doing his thing, whatever that happens to be at the time.
To our knowledge, Ms. Snappy Answers has never been “Missed Connectioned” (White and Strunk are rolling over in unison right now) either, and yet somehow, we routinely find ourselves writing this column in Friday night’s lipstick and someone else’s flannel. And it’s not (just) because we’re easy; it’s because romance, in the city, in the thronged streets, in the first paroxysms of summer, is easy. It’s everywhere, all the time, because more people are like you than you will ever know. You just have to stop looking so hard.
And stop missing your connections.
And try making them instead.
Use that imagination to think of something to say (in words, spoken words) to the honey-eyed fair trade barista who always gives you extra foam, or the pinstriped ice blonde who looks up from her ‘Berry for those two, three lingering seconds, or the Ray Banned, vintage-cruising babe cycling through Trinity-Bellwoods in a dress your favourite shade of sky. Fling your caution to the May winds and spend your two hours on—deep breath—an actual face-to-face date.
Life experiences should be exactly that—experienced. Lived. Breathed. In the moment. Not as many minutes later as it takes you to post from the nearest internet cafe. And this is coming from a blogger, so we really mean it.
All the best in luck, and someday love, we promise*,
Snappy Answers.
*While taking absolutely no responsibility should you die in bitter solitude, in a basement bachelor, in a record-breaking pile of empty tuna cans (and not even the good albacore tuna, like the tinny pinky-beige valu kind).