So, the other day (that would be Saturday) I (and many others) went out to Coney Island for the Siren Festival. Basically a big indy rock show in the shadow of the Cyclone Rollercoaster sponsored by the Village Voice. It was lots and lots of fun. I rode the bumper cars, shot the b-b machine guns, drove the go-carts (twice), ate the worlds greasiest and largest hot sausage (roughly the size of my arm) and rode the gigantic ferris wheel. I also saw some great live music, including one of my favorite bands: Superchunk (I had ctually had the good fortune to see Superchunk before. One afternoon, when I was living in Binghamton, NY they played in the south lounge of the student union on the SUNY Binghamton campus, for free. It was bizarre because most of the crowd was, in fact, waiting for the bus.). Saturday was a beautiful day and Coney Island is fantastic; a truly amazing place, and made me very proud of Brooklyn. I took a bunch of pictures with my recently acquired Polaroid Pro-Pack camera (semi old-fashioned non-reflex bellows instant camera that uses the peel-apart film). As seems to be the case with Polaroids in general, and the Pro-Pack in specific, some of them came out very nicely, many did not, and it is very hard to tell which will be which until they develop. If you want to: Check them out. I still have not smoked a cigarette. It has now been over three weeks. Go, me go. New York City in the summertime is not the place that you want to become reacquainted with your sense of smell. It is a world of vomit, piss, dogshit, hot-dogs and cologne. It is becoming more clear to me why everyone in New York smokes. In what is certainly related news: I have been remembering my dreams consistently for the past three weeks, for the first time since I was a little kid. Last night I dreamt that I had fleas.