Sometime in the next week, I'll try to fix my head around this past week. First comes sleep, and a lot of rest for my poor abused feet.
There are times I wish sxsw would go on forever, and times I sort of dread it (those times are when I'm trying to schedule, or pack, or am facing traffic on 35). But when it ends, I'm always left feeling shattered and entirely at peace. It's not just the music - although it spurs me on - it's not the weather, which is gorgeous, or even spending time with friends I get to see rarely, or making new friends. It's all of that, and more: the feeling I get when I wake up in the morning and realize that the entire day is stretching before me, and the biggest decision is whether to have a free dos equis or a free lone star, whether to see an act I've never heard of before or one I love to watch, whether to spend time in some small, intimate bar or out in the warm Texas sun. It's the people and the bands and the frenzy and the small pockets of peace, the crush and the space; even the blisters are little badges of honor: i was here, i lived this life, and it was brilliant.