If you've ever drunkenly narrated the contents of your scrapbook to an indifferent crowd, you are already familiar with the type of work Andy Friedman does. In smoky, low-lit lounges and coffeehouses throughout the country, Friedman performs by projecting slides of his drawings, paintings and photographs while delivering monologues filled with tongue-in-cheek observations and ramblings about his past three years on the road. This man's art does not speak for itself-he does.

But don't mistake this wanderlust traveler for your typical seen-it-all coffeehouse poet; the New York native is a trained professional who studied classical painting at the reputable Rhode Island School of Design before landing a job as the assistant to the cartoon editor at The New Yorker. However, job security wasn't enough for Friedman's two-dimensional artistic silence, so he took his talent on the road.

With the accompanying bluesy tunes of his backing band The Other Failures, Friedman recites composed lyrics in a voice reminiscent of Hank Williams, though the impersonation lacks credentials, the feeling it emits is genuine. His is a show for all the disenchanted weekend madcappers, the one-night-stand romantics; Friedman is a painter looking to befriend the lost soul.

The challenge of unconventional "slideshow poetry" is obvious to Friedman.

"It's a new kind of show. People don't know when, exactly, to give me some love," he says.

So applaud if you're paying attention; a real fan may prefer to send over a pitcher, half-empty/half-full to the wayward painter. Enthusiastic scrap-bookers on a Sunday night at 3B may want to take notes on how to perform.