The Feminists: I Don’t Mean To Sound Like A Realtor

Well, I’m having my “woman-time”. I don’t mean to offend your any of your delicate sensibilities and in fact I hate to even mention it, but I have to because unfortunately I become a nasty, incoherent bundle of hormones and frayed nerves every time little Flo sets a spell and unpacks her things. And you may be wondering why all of a sudden I am spewing forth vile hatred and rage and I just wanted to let you know that it’s a (thankfully) temporary state of affairs.
I have spent most of the day curled up on the bunk under a blanket drifting in and out of consciousness doubled up with cramps thinking about breathing in, breathing out, and why isn’t that fucking advil kicking in yet.
This morning, I gave a brief, terse warning to the guys explaining through clenched teeth that it would be best to not speak to me today unless spoken to. And even then, I told them, you should probably ignore the insults and my transparent attempts to pick a fight.
When I regained full consciousness we were at Ferdy’s friend Martin’s apartment in Toronto. I love how many friends Ferdy has. They have saved us innumerable times from sleeping outdoors. And they’re all very nice people too. The advil had finally delivered me from the temptation to punch each of my bandmates in the mouth to stop their incessant chattering. I felt refreshed, renewed and like I might even be able to control my emotions.
Martin is a intelligent, artistic, articulate guy with quite a bit of flash to him. It was very amusing to watch him and Ferdy have intense conversations about every possible subject while the decibel level continued to rise and Rise and RISE!!! WOOOOOO HOOOOOO!!! as they attempted to express themselves simultaneously. While they were reminiscing about Ferdy’s unspeakably gargantuan goatee (I was FLABBERGASTED by the pictures of this goatee. I feel like no one could ever show me a more mammoth goatee, that I have gazed upon the Goatee Of All Goatees and will forever find all subsequent goatees sadly lacking) and other fond Cranbrook memories, Mike and I walked to a grocery store to procure nachos ingredients.
We were in a very cool neighborhood on Queen St. Old funky brick apartment buildings and brick houses lined both sides of the sidewalk. Frequently a street car would pass by us. Streetcars! There’s nothing like that in Vancouver.
There was lots of lush, deep ivy clinging to the bricks that were everywhere. I saw so many lovely ivy covered duplexes and apartments. Martin’s was one of them – a huge three bedroom apartment with large bay windows facing Lake Erie in all its late afternoon sparkling splendor.Or maybe it was Lake Huron. I guess I could look at a map before I write these things. Hardwood floors, and the bathroom was like a sweet desert oasis. I don’t mean to sound like a realtor, it’s just that houses fascinate me in all their myriad forms after a few days of sleeping outdoors in a van.
We feasted on a thick bowl of tasty nachos. Then we drove to O’Grady’s, promisingly located across the street from the University of Toronto. We had to drive down Queen St. and Spadina Ave so I got a chance for a quick glimpse of a couple of Toronto’s most famous streets. It was dusk, there were lots of people out, and lots of neon.
We loaded in and while the bar staff was preparing the “stage”, i.e. clearing away some tables and chairs, Grief and I went to coffee up. Then it was a looooong 3 hour wait until it was time to play. Zobac napped in the van – he enjoys a good solid nap quite frequently – and Grief and Belland and I stood around and questioned our motives for playing music. More specifically, we were trying to reassure ourselves that having fun playing our songs together is enough to justify the massive outlay of personal cash, time, and effort that it takes to be in this band. Very possibly, we’re really big idiots for continuing with this…most of the people I went to music school with have smartened up and moved on to more lucrative endeavors.
Self indulgent whining aside, we played a great set at O’Grady’s. Dave from was there to catch the show. He’s picked up both of our records and one of our side projects for his internet record label. I was pleasantly surprised that he came out to the show and delighted that he was such a cool guy. A crowd of people gathered as we played and there was a lot of satisfied whooping and some very crazy dancing.
The other band was called The New Signals. At the end of their last song, the drummer ripped off his shirt and shot past the guitar player, who stood transfixed and open-mouthed, to wrap his extremely sweaty self around a laughing woman, who I assume was well acquainted with him. I thought that was a good ending for a show.