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The following conversation is real, and concerns the exploits of a photographer whose work can be examined at the daily photo weblog WHITEBLACKRED: PHOTOS OF MY DAYS. To protect the subjects, their names have been changed. The photographer, will be referred to here as Person(s) A, while the critic will be referred to here as Person(s) X. Person(s) M was unavailable for discussion.

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I can’t get the hang of the farmer’s market. I know it’s a weird thing to say, but I’m having real problems figuring out how to use it. The Logan Square Farmer’s Market has moved to the lobby of the Congress Theater for the winter and, while I never went to the outdoor one out of laziness and weekend sleeping-in, I was always curious about and intended to go.

A little history about me and farmer’s markets: I grew up (mostly) around St. Louis, which is home to the Soulard Market, a large and very old (est. 1779!) farmer’s market, to which my parents and I went a total of once. Probably because back then, in the late 80s/early 90s, it was as much flea-market as it was actual produce market, and it probably wasn’t particularly clean and almost certainly didn’t smell very nice. But, being a forward thinking conscientious young Obama voter, I’ve always liked, you know, the idea of farmer’s markets. I’ve just never been very close to one. Until now.

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Chicago’s reggae mad scientists, The Drastics, drop some knowledge on the Boy King and dub the shit out of Michael Jackson. Don’t stop til you get enough, indeed.

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I feel that it is my duty as a Chicagoan to pay some attention to the Pitchfork Music Festival. Saving my jaded, snide remarks for the actual band previews, I’ll say that I’ve been to Pitchfork (previously Intonation) Music Festival several times, and it was a lot of fun. It’s easy enough to make jokes about neon sunglasses and the vast abundance of Sparks (now w/o caffeine, bring yr own cocaine), but by and large it’s one of the better festivals you’ll find, you know, if you’re into that sort of thing. Alas, I won’t be able to attend this year, as I’ve opted to attend a suburban pig roast, as well as Sunday’s White Sox/Orioles game instead, but figured I’d try to help out all those making the trip to Union Park this weekend by providing an overview of all the acts performing.* Enjoy!

Cheers,

EGM

*And I’m here to happily provide uninvited two-cents from the only guy you know who still only listens to reggae and punk rock about bands I’ve never heard! (BK)

**Me too! (TH)

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I ride my bike to work most days and have found Chicago to be a city of smells, a densely woven fabric of free-roaming odors and vapors. Here is a map of my morning commute, from Bucktown to the south-east end of the Loop, with annotated smell identifiers.

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