Wednesday, December 12, 2012

Miami Basel pt. 1


On my way to Art Basel in Chicago on a 70 degree day and I see this shit head taking a bike on the train. This is why Chicagoans are fucking fat...that and all the beer, food, cheese, fats, oils, and children we consume. 


I don't think I've ever been non stressed at O'Hare. When my eyes get extra Asian, then you know I'm tired. I was barely able to see out of them at this point.


Looks a little different but basically the same as December in Chicago.


First restaurant I see. Too easy.


This is what a garden apartment looks like in Miami. I was hoping a sloth or a monkey would come greet me with a coconut drink in hand, but a skinny Greek from Chicago greeted us instead. 


I was confused by this dessert shaped vehicle. So many questions, how did it get there? Why are there rubber tires? Why?


Keith and I were on a mission for paint and walls to paint so we quickly jetted to the Wynwood walls near Downtown Miami and quickly realized how late we were to the art party. This is one of like fifteen walls Reka would paint along with 600 stickers I saw of his. 






How true.




Legendary NY graff artist Cope 2 just chillin admiring the vintage cans he probably used to use back in the day. 














Seriously though. What the fuck? It was basically like this all over Wynwood and this is only maybe 5% of the total walls being painted or walls that already had murals on them. 




A little overwhelmed and just plain tired, we went to a local watering hole called the Deuce club, because of the 222 address...I was hoping it was because of all the doo doo's taking place there. Like a palace of just pristine toilets lined up ready to take on your dookies. 




Two's company, 6 Chicagoan's equal a crowd. After running into some of the Chicago homies we went to a Belgium bar called Jean La Frite, which translates to fucking stupid expensive beers with random ass hookahs. The frites were off the chain though and its always nice to drink outside on a sofa in the middle of the street. 




Yes, I know I take shitty pictures, but thats part of the reason for this blog. You get to see what and how I see things and this bar called Kill Your Idol had so much random shit around...its almost good that you really can't see the images. They did have 312 and PBR on tap which I almost think was some kind of inside joke. 



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