MATT DRISCOLL: SLURRED WORD ON THE STREET >>>

Craziness and Lone Star Beer. So far, for this slack-jawed journalist at least, this has been SXSW.

My morning (afternoon, thanks to Austin's two hour time difference) started with an adventure. Being the Greener I am, not to mention broke as a joke, I decided to travel downtown via public transit. This seemed easier and cheaper than a cab, and surely would have been if I'd gotten on the bus going the right direction. As it turned out I headed north instead of south, which in addition to chewing up an hour of my day, gave me a first hand look at the real Austin. Downtowns always look nice. The outskirts of any major city tells the whole story. The outskirts of Austinare filled with rickety fences, empty kid pools, and dilapidated homes. The air is muggy and front yards are brown. Barbecues sit unused and bums sleep on the bus. At least that fact made me miss Tacoma.

SXSW is a zoo. Literally. Once I finally arrived downtown and picked up my "platinum" badge, I couldn't help but be struck by the enormity of it all.

SXSW will take anyone's money. Make no mistake. Anyone can be a platinum badge holder. But the strange thing is, with the exception of the bearded indie guitarists, drummers, and bassists, for some reason once everyone gets her they all think they're something. Everyone here is important. Ask them and they'll tell you. For every scruffy rock band, there are four fancy smelling white guys with designer jeans and flat fronted leather shoes.

SXSW is about the music, and so far it's been amazing. Kilroy, from  Oshkosh, Wisconsin, is a fine example. They played a loud and frantic set at the Velveeta Room. The foursome ranks high on the early list of jaw dropping bands I've seen so far. And I got a free t-shirt, trucker hat, and two free beers to boot. This is the beauty of SXSW.

Tonight, Steph D and I are headed to catch Kimya Dawson, and then probably soak up more free shit. That's what SXSW seems to be all about - and being important. At least Steph and I realize the truth. Here, amidst the madness and mayhem, we're nobodies. Happy, drunk, free beer and music swilling nobodies. I, for one, feel comfortable with the status. I'm from Tacoma, after all.