In Duncan time got curious and decided not to move so fast. The performance space “the Showroom” assembled from good intentions and objects that refused to die. Everywhere you look, something that once belonged somewhere else. Old chairs. Old lamps. Old posters. Endless oddments which crossed the invisible border into “treasure”. Run by Ontarian hippies Tim and Longevity John. Once upon a time they drifted west and drifted back never. I see in them the relaxed seriousness of people who believe music matters but also understand that the roof needs fixing. Sherry-Lee was there, moving through the room like a graduate student of cosmic awareness who had already done unscheduled internships in the University of Hard Knocks. A kind of alert calm about her, like seen the chaos backstage but still plays the set. There was also a woman who, according to our host, smelled strongly of cat pee. There is no polite way to say that. But generous. Apparently she donates money and listens carefully. Life is full of odd equations. After the show, John brought out the plastic bag with a baseball sized round thing inside. He seemed gleeful. He likes to show the kidney stone that almost killed him. But by the time the story finished the stone sounded like it should have its own parking space. During the show I sang my Ellen McIlwaine song and my Lynn Myles cover. Tim later told me she renamed him. He was very proud of that. Instead of Reverend Tim she called him Dr. Reverend. Longevity John also seemed pleased, you could see the quiet delight in his face of hearing a name or a memory placed back into the air where it belongs. The broadcast signal drifted into the digital sky, music passed through the room before heading off to wherever songs go when they leave us.