Sunlight slowly crept into my simple room. My shakey hands, covered in blood. I noticed the Pabst beers I still had in my pocket and noticed my body had arisen faster than my memory. I took another look at the blood on my hand and remembered it wasn’t blood, but corn syrup and red food dye; prop blood. I shook hands with a zombie last night at a zombie themed art exhibit. I’d always had low opinions for artists as they can be described as visual eccentrics that don’t need a reason to do anything nowadays.
However, I did notice that it wasn’t the zombie choreography breakdancing or zombies in general that were the point of last night. It’s that an entire exhibit was able to decide on a theme, and play with it. Make it fun for everyone. Like playing in a really good band. The collective conscious within the night was The Undead, and all the gory pieces on the walls followed that theme, and attempted an honest effort at keeping everyone entertained. From aformentioned Zombie Breakdancing, Contests, Giveaways, And a even a zombie model posing to have her carcass sketched. Even complimentary Sangria, was served by an undead bartender. Except yours truly had an undead brain and left his identification at home.
A respectful effort to bring art into hearts of the masses. Not every artist is a snobby tosser…i suppose… I made new undead friends as well as living ones and spent the evening with a case of pabst, guitars, zombied faces, and a correct guess to my heritage.
(I can’t believe I forgot my I.D., that exhibit would’ve been about 6 times more entertaining. However, during the Zombie impression contest, i recall shouting, “That guy’s not a zombie, he’s drunk!!”)