You're gonna make us miss you, Bob.

​Update: Here's the review of the October 6 show.

For some folks, it would have been enough to put up a copy of Blonde on Blonde with a chipmunk chewing on it: Bob Dylan's coming back to South Florida! The concert takes place October 6 at the Arena at the Don Taft University Center at Nova Southeastern University in Davie. Whew!

Dylan's music is like an effervescent newborn to some and a crusty uncle to others, but it's hard not to acknowledge that his songs are part of the extended family that is popular music. As a member of the former camp, County Grind is doing backflips -- something he can't even achieve under heavy hypnosis -- as the October 19 release of The Witmark Demos: 1962-1964 (47 stripped-down, acoustic renderings of the Bob Dylan songs of that era), and The Original Mono Recordings (his nearly flawless first eight albums) approaches.

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​Nothing's ever been quite as intriguing to me as a clown. I think it has something to do with the eerie looks a lot of them give while performing, and their faces disguised in white makeup. So when I came across this flyer announcing local Circus Artists performing at recently opened club O1 (formerly Pearl,on the second floor of Nikki Beach) on Saturday, I had to take a closer look.

CircX is said to combine raving inter-actors with dancers, corporeal mime, European clowning, street theater and burlesque. Will they be dangling from the ceiling? Blowing fire? Is the flyer merely a prediction of the troupe being submersed in water? So many questions pop up upon just looking at the above image. They look like some sort of mime/clown hybrid, and I'd be curious to see how the Cirque du Soleil-inspired performers take on the O1 space.

For more information or to RSVP for free entry, email: RSVP@VitaminCComm.com

​A conundrum: What kind of sound would a morbidly obese, four-titted, screaming Cyclops make while being probed by multicolored psychic lamprey? Hmm ... That's a mind-bender so deep and twisty it could put you into a permanent coma, turning certain centers of your brain into scorched-out pudding.

Thankfully, the New Times just got a tip that three sludge-y monsters of precisely that description will be slithering into Sweat Records a couple of Saturdays from now.

First up, there's Miami offspring Green Sky, a many-boobed beast prone to prolonged moments of dirge-y southern swampiness. Next, you've got serpentine Orlando screecher Bad Actor, travelling through the man-made shit canals of Central Florida for this aural orgy. And last, Nebraska Sun and the Mexican Rebel, a crossbreed who claims to be "heavier than the cock of god."

So, be there May 22, 'cause it'll probably be another millennium before you get the chance to actually hear a one-eyed freak having its soul assaulted by metaphysical serpents.

Saturday, May 22. Sweat Records, 5505 NE 2nd Ave., Miami. The screaming starts at 9 p.m., and admission costs $3. 786-693-9309; sweatrecordsmiami.com.

Design by Chelly

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After another shitty day at a shitty job in a shitty city, I decided to relax by listening to an old LP of sci-fi movie sound effects and watching shadows on my bedroom walls while blitzed on acid. At the time, this seemed like the best way to spend the remaining eight hours till sunrise. I was wrong. It was a very bad idea.

Within minutes, the walls went liquid and gave birth to giant six-foot ants with mouths dripping some kind of dark, sticky stuff. I figured they wanted to eat me. I screamed, the ants laughed, and a standoff ensued as cheap noise and theremin music filled the background. Eventually, the ants got bored. They broke my record, tuned the TV to reruns of the 1980s sitcom Small Wonder, and sat there in shadowy silence, salivating gallons of dark, sticky stuff.

Minutes before morning, the ants turned to me and revealed that they were robots. I screamed. They laughed. And it was time for work again.

Destroyio Records presents New Age, Hardware Youth, Enough!, Askultura, and more. Friday, April 16. Churchill's, 5501 NE 2nd Ave., Miami. Doors open at 9 p.m., and there's a $5 cover. 305-757-1807; churchillspub.com.

Destroyio Records presents the Baker Acted CD-Release Party with the Ticks, Consular, Enough!, Guerrilleros de Nadie, Prostitots, and more. Friday, April 29. Churchill's, 5501 NE 2nd Ave., Miami. Doors open at 9 p.m., and there's a $5 cover. 305-757-1807; churchillspub.com.

Skinnydipping after dark with a few longhair BFFs is one of the best ways to spend a springtime Friday night. The water's green, the sky's green, and there's no discernible horizon. It's cold, but not that cold. And the wind whistles like music while puffy, cartoon-ish letters float through the emerald darkness, spelling out secret messages.

Now, the second best way to spend a springtime Friday night is attending a random warehouse party, like tonight's Desorden thing. You shouldn't expect nudie swimming (unless someone rents a hot tub or brings the kiddie pool), but there'll be plenty of very friendly longhairs. Local wind-whistlers Ice Cream are set to lead it all with help from Flower Flower, Grey Eights, Sergio Pineda, Milk Spot, and Charlie Astro. Plus, Roy of Ice Cream just started a Facebook campaign for a keg. So c'mon ... Pitch in! Get ripped! Skinnydip?

Friday, March 19. El Warehouse, NE 2nd Avenue and NE 65th Street, Miami. The show starts at 8:30 p.m., and it's totally free.

​Usually we save the "Flyer of the Week" accolades for Friday, but here's a last-minute entry that we have to share before it becomes null and void. We give you the yellow-and-black job heralding, uh, "a new kind of playas ball" at Sweat on Wednesday. Back in the days of actual photocopied flyers, designers had to rely on this kind of black - and - negative - space thing for legibility and contrast. In these days of Photoshop and Facebook invites, that kind of design is just a nostalgia trip.

​Everyone's dreamt about discovering a drippingly delicious pizza planet. But only Orlando's Yip Yip had the courage to cross the cosmos in pursuit of pepperoni.

​As bored young professionals with a median age of 28, we here at Crossfade spend our days online and our nights in the club. While it's light outside, we Twitter, blog, and stalk former sex partners on Facebook. Then, as soon as the sun goes down, we drink too much, dance too hard, and laugh too loud while ogling pretty strangers of every gender. 

Flyer by Johnny Saraiva

​To my unfocused eyes and deranged mind, this flyer wasn't just a paper advertisement for some inevitably awesome show. At the time, it looked like the symbological key to a psychedelic netherworld. Those three goth-y faces, the double snakes, and that triangular gloam getting sucked into a squiggly vortex ... It all spoke of satan, poison snacks, and fuzz tone. More >>

​For a while there the fourth day of the week sucked. Everyone was almost forced to watch TV. Lately, though, things are looking pretty good again. Sweat is back up and charging hard with arty/punky/noisy in-stores and weirdo movie screenings while, next door, old reliable Churchill's has kept shit on lock since your junkie roadie daddy was born. Even Roofless and Destroyio have been starting midweek mosh pits. More >>