July, July, July is going to be one of those months that make me miss the flexibility of college summers. All my friends are converging on the midwest for Pitchfork. I do not have tickets because I didn't realize it was the same weekend as Alana's visit. And we're only going to be in Chicago for the day and I'd rather go to the Art Institute and Chinatown than wrestle with a crowd in Chicago in July. As friggin' cool as it would be, I don't want to mess with it. But, I do want to mess with meeting up with Ashley and her old man and Scott and Robbie and anybody else who might be between Evanston and Gary.
That's July 19. The 24th, I want to go back to Chicago for a taping of a radio program Oscar and I enjoy.
Oh, and Russ might be stopping in earlier in the month. The Chem Crawl is in there somewhere and I'm hoping to get together a picnic for my birthday. If only last July were as fun filled as this one should be. Minus the Decemberists concert, last July was totally lame.
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