Vidal late at night at at Brunswick and Bloor at 3am, Lickn’ chicken, 1983. Then it was radical to be open that late in Toronto. His paintings were large and surreal, he had skill for days. Down the street at a place called the New Madison, an older waitress served the back table where people went each week after Fat Albert’s was over. Mel, a young woman with frizzy blonde hair started a zine called Echolocation and various characters contributed. Sam Larkin wrote a piece about the subway fare being raised ten cents and Diane, who’s stunning voice, wrote something using a bird pseudonym like Sparrow or Eagle. Vidal saw a copy of the zine on the radiator at Lickn’ chicken and negatively commented on the illustrations. His girlfriend asked why are you always so negative? It is my job as an artist to expose art that misses. If I think you’re full of shit shouldn’t I expose it? You can try but I you too are full of shit. Which one of us is the shittiest? I have no idea but it stinks in here. That’s approximately when I entered the story and played the piano. Somebody requested “feelings” which made Vidal bark as though they were ruining everyone’s night. He insisted I play something of my own. I appreciated this because that was my plan plus I never ever did try to learn “feelings”. I just come from Fat Albert’s where everyone listened silently but here it was a party. It would be pointless to play anything expecting any listening. This was an excursion into being background.