My Oz

... is the name of the Roni Horn art show I went to see here, at Listasafn Reykjavíkur Hafnarhús. Please dig the site and check out some of the cool art.

Much of Roni's art involves witty aphorisms... not so banal and blunt as Ashleigh Brilliants, but a bit more like a Zen koan.... just kind of silly and thought-provoking.

"That a pansy is transitive is its only pang."

Of course, the bummer at the art museum is that I immediately want all the books, or at least a few postcards.... I settled for a nifty Érro keychain.

Dude, this pic is like rly blurry.

At about this point I broke down and spent about $3 on another DELICIOUS Icelandic hotdog/pylsa.

Then, something rare in Iceland: free fun! An outdoor concert, spanning about three hours, began just after I left the art museum. Sayaka, the only Japanese member of our class, also happened to be there, and we got the bright idea to check out Vín Búð (the only liquor store -- gov't.-run!) before they closed.... much cheaper than a drink in the pubs!

Anyway. Debauchery shelved, six bands played:

Jeff Who
Jan Mayer
Æla (which means vomit)
Kimono
Skátar
Bacon

Now, I've actually heard Kimono before, at home, on teh intertubez. They're fun, mildly pretentious indie-rock, with a bit of a cosmopolitan twist and some definite mama's-boy tendencies. I enjoyed thoroughly.

The surprise, though, was the finalé act, Jeff Who. Apparently they had a big single in Iceland last summer.... and it's not surprising.

Some very infectious dance rock. After the good fun, my life resumed its usual pattern: sleep, snack, study, sleep again. By the way: learning the past tense in Icelandic is kind of like slamming your penis in a sliding glass door.

Other happenings:
- A guy dressed as a disco Elvis got to make out with pretty Icelanders -- is that the secret?
- I gave away my last cigarette. Seeking replacements.
- I flooded the bathroom again.
- I have finally resolved to buy myself a proper meal this weekend.
- My hair is falling out.
- I was recently fed real French toast (pain perdu) by a real French person.
- I learned how to say "that song is stuck in my head!" in Japanese, but not Icelandic.
- I have begun some songwriting I hope to turn into a legitimate project.
- I have realized I travel not to find where I want to live, but where I want to die.

See you, Space Cowboy!


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Precipitation and Vulcan-inspired Mike Patton Rock

I wanna sleep in, too! Lucky!

Today is the first day of crappy weather we've had in a long time here in Reykjavík. I shouldn´t complain as it's been the nicest summer anyone can seem to remember, but still, I wish I could just sleep in with the kids, y'know? They're having a rainy-day tent party right now...

I'm a bit tired because last night I fulfilled my personal obligation to make sure to see some live music. Basically, I had been scouring the bands on the Smekkleysa (Tasteless) label which was strated by Björk and pals ages ago -- and I think it had something to do with punkers Flux of Pink Indians? Correct me if I'm wrong....

Anyway, I show up at Bar Dillon at 10pm ready to rock -- and th ebest part? FREE CONCERT. Enthusiasm aside... A very geeky opening band set up and played a fun set with some nifty syncopation and whatnot. But, I can't really claim to have had the best vantage point, as the bottom floor near the stage was so packed with Icelanders that I wormed my way up to the second floor where a projection screen of the show beneath had been set up; much more cozy up there, anyway.

I bought myself one drink. I made it last through the whole first band. Feeling dejected with nothing to do but stand like a moron gaping at the projection, I said to the bartender:

Heyrðu, ég er skiptinemi og ég er ótrulega peningalaus. Eitthvað ódýr?

... which in very broken Icelandic basically means: "Hey, I'm an exchange student and I'm scary broke. Something cheap?" ... so the bartender took pity and gave me a freebie. Yay!

Anyway, let me tell you about Dr. Spock, the main band. Very crazy. They have a synth guy, but they're mostly a Faith No More/RHCP amalgamation with more balls and more theatricality. For those of you who worked at Sierra Summit, imagine a 6' tall Jeremy Trotter with shoulder-length hair growling into a mic... and that's just the first lead singer. The other guy is maybe a few inches taller and twice as heavy, shaven-headed and menacing (though I hear he's really nice offstage). All these guys have been members of various famous Reykjavík projects... like Rass, for example.

I met a gregarious American named Ryan. He chased off the girls that I think were hitting on me before he buddied up to me, said offensive things to them, and chased them away. Haha. My luck. I got home a bit late after a very roundabout stroll around downtown and some serious willpower in not purchasing a pylsa from Bæjarins Beztu.

Today I aim to see the parliament, an art museum, and my pillow.






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PUFFINS!

Well, sadly, I can't afford to go see puffins -- and here I am in Iceland. I would surmise, then, that you, dear reader, sure as hell can't afford to go dig the little dudes, then, either. SO!

Artist Tumi Magnússon (at least I think it was him!) told me about this site over drinks -- and it's smashing! You can CONTROL a super-high-res webcam, in real time, pointed right at a veritable puffin nightclub. Check the little guys out! Go go go! Ils sont tout foufou!

PUFFINS ARE AWESOME
Just click it, stupid!

Now, if you can't see the little guys, just click the "Request Control" button and wait your turn, and then try to move the camera around to find them.... but there should be heaps!

Góða skemmtun og segirðu "hæ!" á lundarnir!

Oh, and my favorite quote from last weekend, courtesy of a fellow SAFN worker ... whose name sounds like "Inggi" but I probably haven't sounded it out right... This is his response to my complaining about some difficulties in Iceland:

"If you get frustrated, you can punch me in the 6-pack."

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Art, destruction, rotten shark and sneezing.

Icelandic sheeps keeping my kids warm.

Well, in the last few days, I have gotten very sick, broken more of my personal affects, rubbed noses with some rather established visual artists, and eaten rotten shark meat. Same caveat as the last post: I feel like teh crapz, so this post will be lazy.

Hákarl is a traditional Icelandic food that involves burying a dead shark for like six weeks, letting the poison rot out, hanging it up to dry for awhile, and then digging in. Mmm. I can tell you, after having braved several pieces, that it's not the single worst tasting thing on the planet... but that the odor is so thick that you can feel it literally resisting you as walk nearer to the source, and the taste is of an unusually pungent cheese. Observe -- and note the faculty-provided Brennivín we were given to wash it down with.





Also, in the foreground of that last picture is sviðasulta, a confit of singed sheep's heads. No joke. Also, please ignore Jackson's crotch in the background... which, I guess, is now impossible, since I've pointed it out. Haha. Pointed it out.

$♥3☻6☺►☺3♥B♥316♠☺6☺

My next bit of cultural activity took place on Saturday night, after I volunteered some very, very longs days at the SAFN art gallery. They opened a new exhibition with artists Jennifer Tee and Tumi Magnússon, whose works I've really come to like. The opening was a lot of fun... free white wine and some smart company.... and even one gentleman (apparently locally known for his art and his saucing) who fell down the staircase and left in an ambulance. =O

Here're some shots of the opening:






After the official opening wound down, I was invited to come along with Birta, the curator, and the artists and their contacts. They bought me the only real meal I've had since I've been here -- and it was fantastic! We went to a little place down on the harbor that's very unassuming, but serves up super-simple fish dishes that are out-of-this-world. Of course, the gallery brought several more bottles of wine and several more bottles of beer... so not only was I making very valuable contacts, but I was eating and drinking at a level of quality far more than I could possibly do for myself while here.... The fun spilled first to Sirkus, then to Bar Boston, then to Kaffibarinn, then to Prikið.... and the whole time I only paid for one drink. ;)

BUT! Oh no! Look what horror has befallen me!
You already know I messed up my iGrado headphones while setting up my tent... only my 3rd or 4th day in the country. Well, that means I've been carrying around my very nice Grado SR-80 headphones. However, I had thought I would have been able to drop them off at home before the bar fun began -- yet the chance never came. So guess what? The earpads fell off!

No tunes for you!

It's kind of a lame design, really.... the earpads come off rather easily, and without them, the cans don't stay on your head. I can replace them for $15 in the States.... but Grado doesn't ship worldwide -- can you believe that?

Le sigh.

Well, the next morning, I was not only musicless, but sick.

I tried to force myself to get out and find the Grado earpads, with no luck. I did, though, finally find perhaps Iceland's most famous sculpture -- Solfarinn.

This is wasted space, lulz.

Sadly, I have an exam tomorrow, so I need to get on the ball learnin' my Icelandic.
Wish me luck and liberation from sneezes.....


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