SXSW

I attended South By South West, an annual music conference in Texas. It's like a Mardi Gras/reunion for people who go on tour and/or work in music. After a few years of doing either, one has about a thousand so-called 'friends' whose names we hardly remember, but hug and kiss nonetheless. Then there are a couple hundred folks we actually refer to as
friends, simply because we remember their name and their band. SXSW is where I hug all these people and drink for free. It's totally shallow pretty fun.

I planned a rendezvous with FONTAINE [the soundguy i kissed good-night after a show we worked on last summer]. He was working the festival, but we decided to meet up at the club where he would be all day, just to say a quick hello. He looked good - shorter hair, no beard, texas tan. I sat in the sound booth as he lept around the stage like a gazelle, occasionally winking at me. He finally came over and kissed me on the cheek, whispering, "I've got 20 minutes," then leading me by my elbow to a microphone closet. We kissed and touched eachother outside of our clothes until his coworker walked in on us.

We hugged and I left to find my 'friends' at another party touting free margaritas.

The Carpenter

We've been having work done in my building for a few months. The same guy has been in and out of my apartment on a daily basis since Christmas, and we've sort of become friends. THE CARPENTER is gorgeous. Remember those diet coke commercials, where all those women were staring at that construction worker on his break and wetting their pants? He is that kind of gorgeous. Tall, dark and handsome. And then on top all those good looks, he's full of manners and interesting conversation. We chat as he passes through my place in the mornings to borrow a wrench or knock down a wall. Over a few months, we've learned about each other's bands, discovered that we share friends, and somehow have become friends ourselves. I like hearing and watching him talk - a sweet southern accent, dark sincere eyes, expressive hands, and plenty of intelligent things to say.

We cross paths at shows or sometimes on the street. We joke around, maybe flirt a little, but it's innocent. THE CARPENTER is not my type. Too pretty for me. And maybe in a grander sense, too good for me.

Breakfast

BOOM BOOM [the drummer with a penchant for neon] came over a few days later for a breakfast date.

Breakfast dates are perfect for we artsy folks. We're all working or being musical in the evenings, yet we never have to be anywhere before noon. And who doesn't want to eat pancakes and bone right after?

The following is an account of BOOM BOOM's Saturday morning date outfit:

-Red sweatshirt, bearing the Gucci logo circa 1982
-Matching red sweatpants bearing the same logo down the right leg
-Orthopedic nurse's shoes (white)
-Neon green windbreaker
-Yellow heart-shaped sunglasses

Yowzers. I have to admit, the brazen fashion sense really gives me a boner. It also gives me the green light on my own freak flag. On this date, I got to wear red running shorts and my favorite sequined tube top that no one likes.

It was a breakfast date, and I did make breakfast. Banana walnut pancakes. We listened to records and talked about our families and at some point during the dishwashing, he said, "That tube top is hideous," and pulled it down, all the way to the floor. I stepped out of it and welcomed foreplay on the buffet table.

We finished up in the bathroom, and proceeded to retrieve our respective clown outfits strewn about my apartment, dressed ourselves, and went off to our jobs.