Friday, 4 April 2008

Thursday nights are the new black

The plethora of Thursday night free events never ceases to amaze me. Last night there was heaps of art exhibitions on. The night began with a touch of Phil Frost, but this wasn't just any exhibition it was a l'il bit posher the rest.

Our choice of alcohol was not limited to beer in a bottle, but beer or a vanilla cocktail. After choosing the cocktail the first sip was one of sheer delight. Okay well my facial expression may not have convincingly portrayed sheer delight but this was only because when hit straight on with an (unexpected) double shot of tequilla a smile isn't the first thing that is pasted on your face. Despite the sour puss face, on the inside I was all smiles. Anyway back to the appreciation of Phil Frost and his artistic extensions. This is a guy that uses all sort of mediums in order to create his master-pieces. From afar it looked like a carefully constructed canvas-o-paint. But up close you could see leaves, rusty pressed nails and other odd bits of assortment.

Concrete Hermits

After an hour or so of Phil Frost appreciation we swiftly moved on to the regualr spot, Concrete Hermit. I am ashamed to admit that I don't even remember the name of the artist, but I do remember the shaper, colour and texture of the bucket 'o ice that was cradling the frosted beer bottles. Upon the hasty consumption of the first bottle, I collected another on the way out and we continued the crawl to our last and final spot; Cargo.

A wide load 'o Cargo

This bar/club was the home of two events; the first being the launch of a book dedicated to graffiti artist Banksy and the impact his 'art' has had on his home town Bristol. I didn't see one book when I arrived so instead we gazed at the live graffiti art and took sips from our beer, complements of the Hermits at Concrete. After a bounty of free gifts; ie. a King Apparel plastic bag w/ a t-shirt and condom we followed out noses and landed at a Chinese Buffet.

Fuck You Mr Woo

£4.95 got us exactly what you'd expect. Lots 'o fatty shiiit.
Mon managed to force it down, but later regretted it.

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I am more than prone to monologues; however, this is solely due to the manner in which they compliment a witty anecdote and their ability to resemble concrete evidence when it is so obviously lacking. I often wish I could emulate that aloof character who coolly stands in the corner smiling mysteriously as if she has a secret. However, I fear resisting the temptation to involve myself in other people’s conflicts and responding through body language rather than verbose banter may come across as contrived and arrogant. And, I am not willing to take that chance.

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