The Stranger

Two reasons to watch this movie about a washed-up professional wrestler: its first 30 minutes and Mickey Rourke. Why the first 30 minutes? Because they are not chained to the machine of the Hollywood plot, but loosely explore the day-to-day world of a man who wrestles for a few bucks and who drinks—not to forget his glorious past but to enjoy the present. Why Mickey Rourke? Because no other actor could better understand the soul of a person who had a spectacular rise the '80s and a spectacular fall in the '90s. The wrestler and the actor are one and the same. (See movie times, thestranger.com, for details.) by Charles Mudede

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Sunday is a tough night to crack for a dance party, but the new monthly 2nd Sunday has the best shot of any since Flammable. Tonight's debut features NYC electro freak-funk duo Free Blood, who opened for Hot Chip here in April and feature John Pugh, aka that lanky, stomping, falsetto singer formerly of !!!. Future nights will feature equally ambitious out-of-town talent—promoters/resident DJs Ben Cook (proprietor of Rong Music) and H.M.A. (full disclosure: Dan Savage's babydaddy) have booked Tim Sweeney for next month and hinted at DFA-affiliated heavies for the spring. (Chop Suey, 1325 E Madison St, 324-8000. 9 pm, $8, 21+.) by Eric Grandy

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To kick off its "in-depth, yearlong exploration of the films of 1969," the Northwest Film Forum screens a pair of cultural heavyweights. Easy Rider stars Dennis Hopper, Peter Fonda, and Jack Nicholson along with tons of drugs and rock and an ending that mindfucked an entire generation. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid stars Paul Newman, Robert Redford, bank robberies, and an ending that's an artful mindfuck in its own right. (Northwest Film Forum, 1515 12th Ave, 869-7963. Easy Rider 6:45 pm, Butch Cassidy 8:30 pm, $9.) by David Schmader

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The Goodwill Outlet (better known as "the bins") is like the regular Goodwill except that all the clothes are just dumped into gigantic wheeled carts and sold by the pound and sometimes there's, like, a tampon in there. But do not be deterred! You dig, you are diligent, and then you find it! An oversize sweatshirt with an airbrushed portrait of Aaliyah and "JAZMINE" in bubbly letters on the back! Or the best jeans you will ever own! Or a tampon! (Just ignore it.) Afterward, head to Saigon Deli in the ID for a crunchy, tangy, cheap-ass Vietnamese sandwich. Wash your hands first. (Goodwill Outlet, 1400 S Lane St, 860-5711, 9 am–9 pm. Saigon Deli, 1237 S Jackson St, 322-3700, 7 am–7 pm.) by Lindy West

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The deepest, hottest rings of hell are reserved for the bad abstract painter. He harms us all, and his circle is crowded. By contrast, every single great abstraction is an angel, and Michael Dailey has made a few. Zoom right in on the 8-year-old acrylic painting Butterfield (right), a square of glowing pink-yellow with a curtain of lines around it—it's a stage for pure light. Two galleries are celebrating the Seattle artist's four decades of work. (Francine Seders Gallery, 6701 Greenwood Ave N, 782-0355, 11 am–5 pm. Greg Kucera Gallery, 212 Third Ave S, 624-0770, 10:30 am–5:30 pm.) by Jen Graves

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Stories by Jon Raymond have become the basis for movies like Wendy and Lucy and Old Joy. Miranda July loves his writing. But none of that matters as much as the fact that Raymond's book Livability, about things like felching and weird people at bus stops, is an especially beautiful collection of short stories. "Young Bodies," about two teenagers who trap themselves in a mall overnight, is sexy and sad and ultimately hopeful, just like life when life is really good. (University Book Store, 4326 University Way NE, 634-3400. 7 pm, free.) PAUL CONSTANT by Paul Constant

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