Ars longa

I can’t believe how lax I’ve been about writing this week. Truth be told, I’ve spent inordinate amounts of semi-free time mucking around trying to design an icon; the rest of my hours have been filled with actual work.

Tonight D.’s band is playing at the Kirkland, and I’m trying to mentally prepare for going out on a weeknight. I’m also trying to decide whether we should have a pre-show dinner at the Kebab Factcory, which is supposed to be excellent, or if I’d rather hang out at home then catch a cab over shortly before the band starts. I can’t say that the prospect of listening to the opening band(s) is very enticing. I’ve yet to see a band I really liked (and most of them were painfully bad) on the same bill as his band. I guess the Ticks were OK.

Last Sunday, we saw the Kai Althoff exhibition at the ICA — a really disparate array of works in just about every medium you can imagine: crayon and rubber stamped Pinnochios, rolls of carpet, resin-encased images, collage, boat lacquer, watercolor, found objects, video, and music by his band Workshop. Some of his paintings were very much to my taste, and I liked the way his band’s albums were playing in one corner that was hung with a bulletin board, where lyric sheets, band photos, show posters, and other rock ephemera were pinned.

We also checked out the preview of the new ICA building on the harbor, which looks to be pretty spectacular (not to mention something like three times the size of the current location, a former police station). Besides a model and photos of the design, they had a virtual tour of the new space projected on the wall (you can check it out by following the previous link). I’m really excited that they’re going to be able to exhibit a good chunk of their permanent collection, which is in storage now.

Then I bought a bracelet and a mood ring in the gift shop.

By the time we left, we were both starving, so we had beers and sammiches at Bukowski. I love that place, even if it is faux-dive. I saw the only bit of the Olympics I’m likely to see — some volleyball and �women’s wrestling. I can only take televised sports when I’m in a bar I like and the sound’s turned down. (And from what I hear about what an ass Bob Costa is making of himself, that’s for the best.)

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