The good people at the Grassroots Cafe in Peterborough had no idea who we were or why we were there. Turns out the promoter never bothered to email our booking agent after he changed his mind about having us play.
Thanks to Belland’s cold Viking stare, we still got to play. It was a coffeeshop that held all ages punk shows. It was tiny closed space and the PA was terrible. Keith sounded like he was singing at the bottom of a well. We were crammed onto a miniscule platform ambitiously referred to as “the stage”. There wasn’t even room for all of us. I think Grief and Belland had to stand on the floor. As for me, my left ear was snuggled up against Zobac’s piercing china crash cymbal so even though we were playing as quietly as possible to avoid overwhelming the pathetic PA, it was plenty loud for me. Especially on my left side.
The audience liked us, though, which is always a good thing. They bought lots of merch from me and many people said nice things about us. There was one young rocker girl that ran right up to me afterward and “Oh! Oh! I love you!” while waving a $20 bill around, which she used to buy both albums without blinking. That was neat.
We’re staying at Keith Hamilton’s house in Scarborough. Keith booked and promoted our Toronto shows. (we have another O’Grady’s show tonight). It was great to sleep indoors, but that didn’t stop me from marching all the way out to the van where Grief was sleeping (he likes to guard the gear) and wake him up to scream at him about what I thought was his terrible performance at the Peterborough show. I fired him then changed my mind and quit the band, and yelled that I would be leaving in the morning and flying back to Vancouver, alone. And I better not hear from any of you losers ever again.
Thank you, Flo. What a great visit we’ve had this month!
K. was very kind and patient and gently guided me back into the house (what, he didn’t want to hang out in the van with me anymore?) whereupon he put me to bed whilst I spluttered at him feebly. The power surge of self-righteous rage that I had been riding high on was starting to dissipate and the horrible realization was beginning to dawn on me that Flo had bested me yet again. Soon I would be riding low and ashamedly on a skulking wave of regret and remorse. But in the meantime maybe I could relax enough to go to sleep. GRRRRRRR.