I might not always land on my feet, but face first in a pile of fine ass ain’t a bad place to be.
You can call it dumb luck. While my flight from Palm Beach was supposed to layover in Houston before re-routing to the heart of SXSW, there was too much fog to touch down. So we stopped in Austin, and some dude with one of those sweet moving staircases helped me off.
She's also got a thing for unicorns and her new BFF Margaret Cho. Follow the antics @amandapalmer.
I’m writing this South by Southwest intro from a poolside table at my mother’s crib in Florida. I came here to chill before diving into the hedonistic abyss known as SXSW, but wound up chasing painkillers with Bud bottles and banging on my laptop for three days.
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.