Stephen Who?

Pitchfork Music Festival begins on Saturday! My friend Brendan arrives in the Windy City tomorrow night, hopefully well-hydrated and carrying extra sunscreen. Because Pitchfork does not allow for reentry. I find this appalling, and also somewhat overwhelming: two long music-packed days in Union Park with no place to go but the Port-a-Potty.

Although Brendan has assured me that my messy apartment will make him feel right at home, I still feel compelled to clear a path to his bed before I crash tonight. And so you’ll have to turn to the Chicagoist for a summary of what awaits me on Saturday and Sunday (and for arguably the best hipster t-shirt ever). There are actually very few bands I know well; strangely, this makes it exciting. Everybody is treating this like the sleeper hit of the summer, so my expectations are high but unspecific. Who knows what I’ll discover… (hopefully not the stench of a buncha fuckin’ hippies).

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current book: just finished the first story in I Sailed with Magellan. Loved it. Very Billy Lombardo-esque, or, rather, Lombardo is very Dybek-esque.

current music: today required the familiar comfort and upbeat twang of the Old 97’s.

current socks: I am wearing so many bandaids that it looks like I’m wearing socks.