Saturday, October 26, 2013

Breathing Every Now and Then.

The homie Mike Anderson invited me on board a booze ship for Glenlivet. As formula goes, there must be Mexican employees on shore or water.

It was an architectural tour complete with a shirt that looks like it got barfed on.

Its like looking under a girl's skirt, only if I knew what that looked like. 

It looks like the Sears tower is about to whoop on these two little buildings asses. 

The highlight of the night was getting to sip on this beauty. I imagine it tastes as good as any 21 year old would, smooth with a little ignorance.

Alex and I not satisfied enough with the 21 year old, we decided to wet our whistle (yes homo), at Howell and Hood right in the anus of downtown. 

Its IKEA in an orgy with CB2 and a hotel lobby. I also wish I had a bowling ball to bowl down this lane. 

They apparently boast like 4567 beers on drafts. with 4560 of them being dedicated to Buds and Millers. Who the fuck needs this many options? This is when "craft beer" starts to get annoying. When you spend half of your time at this place reading the bullshit list of beers AND don't ask me what I want the minute I sit down. I have to get through reading about your shitty barrel aged beer some monkey jerked off into. 

The charcuterie plate was aight, but reminded me of a salami platter I'd find at Costco. Wood boards aren't expensive c'mon now. 

Went to check out Pilsen's artwalk and quickly realized why I never attend. A ton of galleries and studios open to the public and a ton of shit I would never buy. Although this gallery of remixed mannequins and post apocalyptic sculptures were kind of neat. 

This particular one moved and looked human. 

Skillet and I got to participate in Bridgepork which was a celebration of Maria's birthday as well. I had a good time flippin pancakes and kickin it. Drew from Flesh For Food is also having an awesome time with life. 

We need a sitcom called one and half Korean. 

Whats the best cure for a massive hangover? Besides throwing up and crying in the shower? Working a 5 course beer dinner by yourself at work. 

Another good cure is to paint a piece thats impossible to read. I had good intentions! 

Live art piece for a charity event about a Suicide prevention hotling at Gallery Bar that involved scantily dressed tequila girls and a pimp that was very very protective of his was awkward. 

If you ever get a chance to drive down to Pilsen (16th and Loomis), check out the massive En Masse project that I and an awesome slew of artists got to participate in. Its all black and white and basically an orgy of styles from artits all collaborating with each other. Kind of like controlled chaos. 

Did you know that Chicago still had huge art festivals? Me neither. Got to participate in an offshoot small fair called Fountain at the Mana Contmeporary. 


Peeta. Fucking Euro's 

Joey Potts and I.


These blew my mind. So much detail and patience needed for this. So depressing to know that I will probably ever get this kind of discipline, unless it came with a ton of drugs...there's always hope. 

What involves a set of drums connected to wheels and is set off by swings? This fucking thing. And yes, its annoying as it pun intended. 

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