I just got off the horn with the Frankensteez crew, which was riding out the Frankenstorm, watching Frankenweenie, eating franks and beans, with close ally Frank White butchering some vinyl in the background. It turns out that Mister Jason and his posse are returning to Church tomorrow night for their second annual fright night and hip-hop masquerade party.

I’m not packing clothes for this year’s CMJ Marathon in New York City. In fact, I’m not even bringing down a laptop. Instead of spending five straight days inhaling various poisons, feverishly blogging on the same nonsense that everyone else is covering, and ransacking my weathered eardrums with out-of-tune guitar shreds and swollen bass lines, I’m limiting my trip to one day and two nights, and seeing how much I can cram in.