Live At the Apollo

Homecomings at any secondary or post-secondary academic facility can be brilliant things. It gives you a chance to catch up with faces from the past that you’ve not seen in ages, reestablish old relationships, and potentially forge new business relationships based on the different career...

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42 at 54

If I have learned anything, and I pretty much have not in actuality, you should know that history, which behaves like an auto-cannibalistic bowl of chili, has a way of repeating itself. And it does so so frequently that it becomes about as annoying as...

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And So To Sum Up…

Firstly, I’m a bit cheezed at Rangers. They won 7-2 and scored two goals in the 90th minute. Why does that suck? I kept trying to get the final score captured on pic at the 90th minute and kept having to get the camera out. Again, good problem to have.

Made the wat back to Edinburgh and slid into the Phoenix for the last show of the festival for me. That will make it 17 shows over the course of my time there with five alone on Friday. Crazy. This is what I’ve noticed about the festival. If you fancy sleep, you’ve picked the wrong place to be. You gather as many shows as you can, where you can, and keep driving.

Late Result(s)

Funny how things happen. Yesterday I thought my day would be occupied with going to see Rangers play and that there’d be no room for comedy. Well, comedy hit twice. Firstly at Ibrox stadium where Rangers performance in a 1-0 win over Red Star Belgrade was deplorable with incomplete passing, no forward game, and a late, late goal that left everyone saying “It was rubbish but I’ll take it.” For the non-fitba fans out there, it was a bad game but they won nonetheless. Likesay, laughable.

Upon walking home, my friend turns to me as we’re walking by the Phoenix (a venue in the Fringe that I’ve told you about) asks me if I’m sure I’m not going to go in. It was a long day so I replied ‘no’. Cut to two minutes later where I cut back, drop into the club and look for a spot. For the love of the craft? To perform further in the Fringe? Nope. I’m a showbiz whore.

Brendan (an Irish gent I’ve run into who runs his own show at the venue) sees me and says “Glad you’re here, can you do a spot?” Umm, sure. The night was like Ein-Stein’s. That is sparse, and drunk. I go up and have one of those nights where everyone is hammered, you get through three jokes in 18 minutes and everyone still thinks you’re funny. Not bad. Thank you, Alcohol, for smoothing down all of life’s edges.

Tonight I hooked up with fellow Torontonians Alex Lazarev, Dave Merheje, Pat Burtscher, and Sarah Donaldson at their show at Three Tuns. Their special guest didn’t show up so I took his place. Thank God for Irish absenteeism. After that we went to The Canon’s Gait to see if we could get spots. It looked dodgy, so everyone left. Except me. I stayed and Lady Luck paid me a visit and I got a spot and did quite decently. The sad part was that I left money on the table. The act who was supposed to follow me never showed up leaving the host to fill more time after me. That is time I could have done. Like I said, showbiz whore.