my first day in austin

grrrrrr. i'm behind in posting the good stuff. here i am, sitting on 800 pictures of perry farrell and hipster weiners in skinny pants and all i seem to do to remedy the situation is google search "famous groupies" and "how to become a groupie overnight." Le sigh! Seriously, watch for the next couple days because i will have crackhead stamina in posting the old stuff. yay!

k. back to our long trip to austin.

Downtown Austin's traffic was insane. It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. We got into the area around noon and already the crowds of cuties in jean shorts were chasing musicians in sunglasses and black clothes. But, driving and parking was a nightmare so we slowly left the area and drove around looking for a fine eating establishment, i.e. anything not trail mix. Looky-loo! A hi, how are you froggy! Daniel J, we're so close!

This little guy was the size of my palm. Ugh! Grosso!

By the time we got back to 6th street - the clit of SXSW - simon was already in Parish watching Blitzen Trapper, so we got in the long line to get in. Free admission, of course. Day shows were always free admission or else they were private parties. Srsly, who actually bought wristbands and badges? Answer: Daddy did.

Thursday really was the jewel of the festival for people watching. A ton of people (including meeeee!) were still traveling to Austin on Wednesday so Thurs was the pinnacle of hairstyles and outfits. Of course, everyone was wearing the same exact outfits three days later, but with 34% more jizz stains, smudged eyeliner and hangover hair. So, exactly 34% hotter.

Blitzen Trapper was alright. I recommend downloading a couple songs before you buy their album (snicker. snicker. GUFFAW! who buys records anymore?) They were sort of a gay Bob Dylan sound with a neon laser show and adorable/hot lead singer.

So, you know that feeling when you're at somebody's work party and most everyone there is older than you, but also more drunk than you. hello, who gets drunk on under three beers anymore? And the receptionist and her husband are dancing to Billy Jean while you're struggling to gulp down the watered-down cape cod and pretend this doesn't remind you of the time your parents tried to party with you by drinking bud and watching mtv. You know? You know that feeling?

That was essentially what going to day shows at SXSW was and the only cure was getting completely wasted. No joke.

At least, i didn't know any better and told myself that's why we got completely wasted. Day shows be damned.

gulp. ravage me please.

This bar was pretty fucking cool. We watched set after set of hip hop guys freestyling ... stuff. I DON'T KNOW THE TECHNICAL WORDS! They wuz rapping real kool, OK?

Oh yea, also, we caught the Cold War Kids at another free event at some incredible riverside park. Jelz? Don't be. It took two people, forty-five minutes and the landmark of pink and blue port-a-potty's to meet up with Simon afterward. WALK TOWARD THE BRIGHT NEON 'TACO CABANA' SIGN!!!

sexyback.

this is some damn fine photography. NOT! American Apparel was having a "SALE OF THE CENTURY" down the street. Except it was not a great sale and their piles of clothes were resting on piles of broken bottles and doggy dung.

And then that night, Si convinced us to pay $5 to get into a bar called the Rusty Nail where we all stood around out back so his fellow mates could smoke and drink at the same time. Five fucking dollars so I could inhale cheap ciggie smoke?! Not to mention the bar's back patio was blasting obnoxious techno into my eardrums and a seizure inducing lightshow into my cerebral cortex. I hate to sound 89, but got day-um, all of my senses were throbbing. And not in the good way.

This was my bed for the night. We slept in my uncomfortable car seats in the middle of a Wal-Mart parking lot.

The actual band at the Rusty Nail was pretty terrible no matter how fast I tried to drink my two red bull vodka's. They were the same price as the crappy ass beer Hank Hill drinks on King of the Hill! And then Marc and I walked down to a restaurant bar called Opals, like five hundred miles away, to watch Matt and Kim. We tried sneaking in, but security was tight and we wound up watching the show from the sidewalk. And then we caught local Albuquerque band, Fast Heart Mart, busking on the sidwalk on our rush back to the car.

I really wish we had had our shit together for Thursday, but most of the day became a struggle to understand what happens when and who goes where and basically the same struggle you have the first time you have sex in a car slash the first time you have sex. Whatever. I promised myself I'd find the greatest show EVER on friday. And amazingly, we did.

TO BE CONTINUED ...