The Problem of Leisure 8/8/08 (WHOA!) – 8/10/08

Written by Angora Holly Polo // August 8, 2008 // The Conservatory, The Problem of Leisure // No comments

Centuries ago, Academy writers fine-tuned the art of leisure in all its manifestations–opium haze lounging, harem collecting, scrapbooking.

Here they pass that knowledge onto you; the result is a highly-polished calendar of events called The Problem of Leisure.

The Truth: Calexico at the Fox Theatre in Boulder

Joey Burns and John Convertino have never disappointed me with anything they’ve been a musical part of, and though I haven’t yet heard their newest Calexico release, The Garden Ruin, I’m betting it’ll worth the trip to Boulder for a listen. They’ll be at the Fox Theatre.

28 Deep: Machine Gun Blues’ FINAL SHOW!

GO SEE THIS SHOW!!!

Machine Gun Blues Final Show!

With Ghost Buffalo, Mr. Pacman, and Nicotine Fits

Friday, Aug. 8 @ Bluebird

16+ – $10

The Truth: Blue Million Miles cd release at the Hi-Dive in Denver

Each time I listen to Blue Million Miles, I appreciate them even more. One part dream-like, one part driving, they kind of creep into your memory and stick. And you’re not sorry for the invasion. There are a few Denver bands I’ve actually felt relieved to find out they were definitely recording their songs, so no matter what happens, they’ll always be there for another listen. Friday, I’ll be in line to get my own copy of Blue Million Miles newest release, Of Building Walls. And as if that weren’t enough reason to get to the show, the fabulously amazing Bad Luck City and consistently spectacular, The Overcasters, will both be playing too. I’d not miss it.

The Bartender: The Bartender’s done laid up.

Dearest readers,
I will not be out this weekend because I have a date with the white lady, that is, I’ll be as high as I can get for as long as I can while I recover from a nasty fall I took on Tuesday. As you all know I’m an extreme sports enthusiast, male ballerina and fucking bad ass all around. The violent and awkward fall I fell happened while attempting to combine the angelic beauty of classical ballet and the bloody destruction of skateboarding. I twisted my precious (and valuable) ankle attempting to engage the underside of my skateboard to a handrail while pirouetting as elegantly as Nijinsky, and if doubling my ankle over wasn’t enough, I straddled the rail crushing my strawberries, which as you know is only strawberry singular, because of that scaffolding accident many years ago. After this most recent tumble, I’m almost certain that I’m sterile. Not that anybody wants to combine their genes my own shriveled double helix. Our babies would most certainly be freakishly underdeveloped – the fault of my own wilted genomes entirely. I know you all will miss me, but this weekend I have a date with the white lady and even though I’m as sterile as eunich she loves me so so much. Be well, dear reader and don’t let my absence encourage inhibition. Drink! Drink and be merry!

Keep drinking and tipping,
The Bartender.