To Have More Clean Fun on a Saturday Night Might Require Being Criminal
Last night we rode our fixies down to Deep Ellum for the Art Festival, specifically for that all-girls-all-the-time art show and the bands playing at Space. We arrived to chat with Erica outside the “gallery” and answer a bunch of questions from a curious-about-fixies new friend. Then we found a spot to lock ‘em up and caught–much to my disappointment–only the last 1/2 of the last song of the Felon’s set.
Then we went to check out said art show. I’m in such a bad place in terms of art, as mentioned on this LJ, but I still wanted one of the bargain-priced Cathy Miller pieces that originally hung in my* gallery or the ever-fantastic Nourallah work. Alas, I can’t afford to replace my car stereo or have the left headlight re-attached, and my two largest/priciest pieces of art are not even in my possession, so I’m in a self-imposed art-buying moratorium.
Carefully avoiding the Dust (as Sir Roberts so well put it later in the evening), next priority was Beer. We wandered the Fest and accepted some free Full Throttle–the most unfortunately-named energy drink ever–finally making our way down to the liquor store, although not before seeing more Full Throttle marketeers rolling a cart down the street–“The mob violence at the Deep Ellum Arts Festival today was blamed on the overabundant supply of free energy drinks…”
Shiner cans in hand, we went back to the new Hal Samples gallery to check out his show there. Was casually taking it in, walking by the huge picture of feet, and about two steps later I said to myself, “Self, you know those feet!” I went back to inspect, was pretty positive, and after a couple text messages confirmed. The picture of those feet made me feel many different things, most of them positive overall, and made for a very nice time much later in the night …is all we will say.
We wandered the other half of the street and then returned for the Happy Bullets set at Space. Sir Roberts sang the first lines of the birthday song they did for me in-between songs which left me utterly chuffed. The rest of the set was, in typical form, excellent.
Skipping (not literally, I’m just running out of words for “walking”) down to the “gallery” to catch the Lovie “show” turned up both “Dust” and “Settled”, a “small group” of “other miscreants I don’t want to be in the presence of” and a “five dollar” “cover charge” so a decision to bail was made. Before we did we chat outside with my friend and favorite lesbian for a while.
On to Expo Park it was, where a pint at the Amsterdam Bar were had. I have only been in that bar prolly 4 or 5 times since moving out of Expo almost 3 years ago. It is a good bar. Kristian was there and it was good to see him. The owner of said feet was able to show about 12:30 and so another pint was ordered and the smokes were broken out and even more conversational excellence experienced. Along with a very fat nekkid man. As soon as he retired to the back to re-clothe, Love Will Tear Us Apart played. The night was officially perfect.
The ride back to the secret uptown bunker was punctuated by the buzz, the cold air, the darkness, and the multiple shortcuts through parks and rapid curb- avoiding zig-zags.
The best thing I’ve read today was Textism: Idea for a hot vertical.
Yeah so we do a user-centric citizen-media social network for women and gay men who’ve just totally dumped (or been dumped by) their partner, no-good slackass douche that he is/was/will no doubt continue to be, right?…Integration with all popular platforms, including Twitter, of course, except that’s through a proprietary app called Bitter.
*Yeah, and fuck you too.