hungry?

I know we’ve been going on and on about awesome BBQ and all, but really, the real shit is actually not eating. In an environment like SXSW one can sustain one’s self on merely music and alcohol, and if your love of the song is strong enough, and your liver determined and faithful, you can really make a hell of a week out not really eating.

Sure, free food during the day isn’t hard to come by. To entice you into seeing some random-ass going-nowhere-fast bands (and good ones as well), companies put on BBQs, spreads, and hell even give away shoes and other swag. But by not eating, you can make the most out of those free beverages that are there as well. It’s much like drunkarexia, (as discussed previously in this blog). Actually, it’s exactly drunkarexia.

There’s also a shit ton of things to do, elbows to rub, egos to stroke, and sometimes in the rush of bouncing from venue to venue like a manic pinball, you just plain forget to eat something. Like I did. Running around Austin on nothing but my morning’s bagel, some snacks from Canadian Blast’s show, and most of a pack of Parliament Lights is A VERY GOOD IDEA. You can pretty much carve tat on my tomb stone. At this rate that will probably occur sooner than later. I know, not nearly as epic as “Don’t Try,” but Charles Bukowski I am not, and dong nothing but drinking and watching bands all day and then writing about it does not necessarily make you a writer.

But it doesn’t hoit.

If this happens to you, like it did to me last night, don’t worry. Hang in there. And by all means, write a fucking blog.

Also, I just saw Michael Stipe sitting in the lobby by the elevator. I didn’t want to bother him, but I changed my mind once I got back to my room. By the time I had returned he was gone. I was totally going to give him my band’s album in case he needed a coaster.