I decided to throw myself headlong into SXSW this year. It's something that I've avoided previously mostly because it was just such an immense undertaking to really "do" correctly, I thought. I spend about seven or eight months in advance of GenCon getting everything handled and lined up to carry that off in August each year. With SXSW, it was just constantly something that seemed to sneak up on me and get fully into the way of my awareness only a month before. By that time, it just seemed too close to prepare for correctly. So I didn't bother. And I would tell myself it was just for hipster jackasses who want to go someplace and pose so that they can later talk about how they went and very blatantly hope everyone took that to mean they were enviable.
But I went, because I love free shows, I love seeing new bands, and I really think that I've spent a few years just turning my nose up at too many things. So I got some info from Brenna and Katie about some week-long lounge type parties that we would need to register for, stand in line for access badges, then stand in line to enter at any given point over the week. I sweated, standing in line (alone, then eventually with Kim, Brian, and Woodrow) to get these damn badges and never use them. Not once did I visit the Fairly Land Hooch House Presented By Kicktoes Super Funk Sneakers and Animal Cyclefuck Music... or whatever they were called. So, lesson learned there.
I spent the week dipping downtown during the weekdays and trying to just figure out the experience of finding interesting shit to do and see. I was not disappointed, though I think in the future I may go with the "less is more" attitude when wandering aimlessly. I got to see Semi-Precious Weapons (twice!) with a handful of people, which went off well. But when it came to just poking around trying to find something to see, having a train of 4-7 people with me seemed to annoy everyone involved. Next year I think I'll just pack a bike on to my Jeep every day and bike down from work.
It was good, though, to just not give a fuck. I decided I was heading downtown and I was going to enjoy myself. I did not give a fuck if anyone else did. I was not running a raid, herding people, or otherwise making myself responsible for other people's good time. "I am going to see that," I would declare (either seconds or days in advance of going to see it) and if people followed, great. If not, great, they had their own shit to do. I had beers down at Ginger Man listening to Onward Soldiers and then I got a few rum+cokes at Rusty Spur listening to Outernational. And other bands. And I got a hat. A little newsboy thing that, coupled with my vests, makes me one bad accent and a walking stick away from a living, breathing stereotype.
I get the sense as the year goes on that I just am shedding layers and layers of self-imposed, needless restraint and concern. It's a good feeling.
But I went, because I love free shows, I love seeing new bands, and I really think that I've spent a few years just turning my nose up at too many things. So I got some info from Brenna and Katie about some week-long lounge type parties that we would need to register for, stand in line for access badges, then stand in line to enter at any given point over the week. I sweated, standing in line (alone, then eventually with Kim, Brian, and Woodrow) to get these damn badges and never use them. Not once did I visit the Fairly Land Hooch House Presented By Kicktoes Super Funk Sneakers and Animal Cyclefuck Music... or whatever they were called. So, lesson learned there.
I spent the week dipping downtown during the weekdays and trying to just figure out the experience of finding interesting shit to do and see. I was not disappointed, though I think in the future I may go with the "less is more" attitude when wandering aimlessly. I got to see Semi-Precious Weapons (twice!) with a handful of people, which went off well. But when it came to just poking around trying to find something to see, having a train of 4-7 people with me seemed to annoy everyone involved. Next year I think I'll just pack a bike on to my Jeep every day and bike down from work.
It was good, though, to just not give a fuck. I decided I was heading downtown and I was going to enjoy myself. I did not give a fuck if anyone else did. I was not running a raid, herding people, or otherwise making myself responsible for other people's good time. "I am going to see that," I would declare (either seconds or days in advance of going to see it) and if people followed, great. If not, great, they had their own shit to do. I had beers down at Ginger Man listening to Onward Soldiers and then I got a few rum+cokes at Rusty Spur listening to Outernational. And other bands. And I got a hat. A little newsboy thing that, coupled with my vests, makes me one bad accent and a walking stick away from a living, breathing stereotype.
I get the sense as the year goes on that I just am shedding layers and layers of self-imposed, needless restraint and concern. It's a good feeling.
