Going Walkies, Part II

Tea: Iced Litchi Red

Music: King Crimson, "Pictures of a City"

Time: Night.

I got in late from the Second Friday Artwalk in Kansas City, Kansas. (No barbecue forage, but I did get to taste some excellent locally made sausage, so I didn't make a liar of my "Carnivore" shirt.)

I was going to head home around 9:30 p.m., after the last gallery shut down. But when I was invited to stick around and watch a bicycle race, I remembered the admonition that "Life is lived in the detours."

I stayed, talked, had a few beers, made some new friends, was offered another photo show. Call it yet more evidence for the benefits of (a) hoofing it and (b) winging it.

See you in KCK on September 12.

Art Walk .. and Walk ... and Walk ...

Tea: Jacob's Dream

Music: Street drumming

Time: Almost midnight.

Another First Friday, and this one really got its hooks into me -- in a good way, that is.

I almost didn't go (headache), but roused myself in time to get down to the Crossroads by six. I figured I'd get in a few of the usual stops, collect some business cards for story ideas, and shut things down early.

Instead, I just got in and it's almost ... well, you saw the time in the header.

Life is, as they say, in the detours.

I'll post some links to the coolest stuff soon. Right now, I'm about to crash.

I will say that one of the highest points came early in the evening, at the Arts Incubator. Just to the right on the second level, there's a photo show with images from big cities around the country -- especially New York. (Rumor has it the photographer will be showing there next First Friday, too. Go check him out.)

The photos from New York took me back. Pretty soon, I think, it'll be time for me to be back in person.

Perfection Goeth before the Crash

Tea: Yunnan Gold

Music: Barclay Martin, "The Age of Information"

Time: Night

Life, a dear deep friend is fond of reminding me, is lived in the detours. Tonight has been perfect proof of that.

I knew about Third Friday arts events downtown -- but until tonight, I had no clue about the goings-on in Columbus Park (east of the River Market). I was downtown when I picked up a flyer for a show at the For Sale Gallery on East Fifth.

And here I thought I knew the art scene schedule in this town. Then again, maybe it wasn't the right time until tonight. The air was soft, the Chardonnay crisp, the art (and artists) invigorating.

(Oh, and I got another photo show -- perhaps two. Details to follow as I know them.)

And on top of that, I ran into an old friend.

Barclay Martin was playing a solo acoustic show at one of the galleries. I hadn't seen him in years -- not since catching his old band, Potato Moon, in its only Kansas City show. We talked for a few minutes, and then he plugged in and started to sing.

He was good before. He's only gotten better.

I had intended to stay for his full set -- but all of a sudden, I found myself bone-deep weary. I left after two songs. But it won't be years before I see Barclay again.

Part of me wishes I weren't crashing so hard. But there's a part of me that knows tonight was magical -- and magic, as we all know, exacts its tolls. If it didn't -- if there was no fiddler to pay at the end of the dance -- well, it wouldn't be magic, would it?