Look at yourself good.

Middle of March, Austin, and fucking look at yourself: Drizzling down the rain like God's postnasal drip, temperatures low enough to stiffen the nipples of somebody's girlfriend in a coma, people are gonna think they've wound up in Seattle instead of the putative Live Music Capitol of the World while they work the Interactive schmoozathon.

Haven't been precisely working that, myself, the schmoozathon. Been prowling the convention center's concourse, schlepping the swag-heavy Interactive & Film bags around, pausing to chat and clot the walkways with local homies before hoofing it to the next panel, the next presentation, the next lack of an epiphany.

But no one's at SXSW for an epiphany. The information profferred by its army of talking heads, that newsy data's already in the last article they threw into the Net or will anyway be published there mere hours after the festival's closed. No one needs to cross the globe or even just the street to consume Dan Willis's opinion about why current webdesign is, basically, wrong. No one needs to leave their favorite surfing chair to ken the carny savvy of social-engineering jackanapes Brian Brushwood.

Even if some of us (the more entrepreneurial and less cultural, say) do wind up heeding a few of the many panel-driven instructions on How To Sell More Shit To More People, that is not, ultimately, why we're here.

We're not here for the content.

So, a few days after the last note rang and the last film ran, we're all just about recovering from the lack of food, sleep, and healthy behavior that adds up to the SXSW hangover (or, as this week's guest page 2 author Kevin Smokler has termed it, SXSaRS.) And now we contemplate the real long-term impact of SXSW upon our lives here in Austin: the endless piles of free swag, junk, doo-dads, gew-gahs and promotional schtuff that was thrust upon us by visiting PR people. (Actually, mostly from SXSW Interactive: no-one hands out free stuff like a tech firm.)

Not that we're complaining (hey, saves buying Christmas presents), but while we have your attention, a quick plea: if you ended up with half a dozen free t-shirts that you'll never use, don't just drop them in the back of the closet or use them to mop up spills. There's probably a good charity store near you that could make great use of them.

Click on the image to see some of the more bizarre objet de freebie and lessons learned that did the rounds.

Like most guys in a band, Dan Yemin really wants you to buy a t-shirt. But the vocalist with Philadelphia, PA, melodic hardcore punks Paint It Black won't be making any money off of it.

His band is one of many that have lent their support to the Shirts for a Cure project. Founded by punk photographer Mark Beemer in honor of his late wife Syrentha Savio, it raises money for women unable to pay for chemotherapy - and awareness about early detection of breast cancer - by selling T-shirts. Yes, T-shirts. A plethora of hardcore, post-hardcore, metalcore, and emo outfits contributes a design, and the money goes into the nonprofit endowment. Before their official SXSW showcase last Friday, Paint It Black took part in a fund-raiser; Yemin took time to talk about the number of friends of his who were being bankrupted by crippling medical costs and the sad importance of events like this when millions can't afford any or enough medical insurance.

Afterward, Yemin (also singer for scene godfathers Lifetime and formerly of Kid Dynamite. He also holds a doctorate in clinical psychology. Busy guy.) talked about the inevitable trips to the emergency room that come from life onstage and on the road. He said his "best" was after a collision with his guitarist in Manchester, England. Everything he'd ever been told about long waits and poor service in a nationalized medical service, he said, was wrong. There wasn't even an issue that he wasn't a UK citizen.

Damn socialists.

Ah. The big gush and the streets are finally ours again. Overheard label execs whining, "It's been fun. But I'm so ready to go home." We were ready, too, Holmes. (Get outta me!) So, thanks for invading, thrashing, and then bolting, because we're better for it – as we are every damn year.

So many good moments this year to make it all worth the traffic.

Boots were definitely the accessory at South by Southwest 08. It's pretty easy to tell who was strolling down Sixth Street in their favorite pair, and who probably ran over to Cavender's straight from the airport. Click on the gallery for more.

What's the greatest thing about SXSW? The music? The films? The panel discussions? The mounds of free schwag that everyone ends up having to tote home?

NO! It's the huge pile of Lego that is the SXSW Interactive Playpen. Guests are invited to decompress from the strains and rigors of the festival (and trust us, one can only consume so many hors d'oeuvres before life becomes terribly tiresome) by playing with Lego. Lots and lots and lots of Lego. Builders can even take photos of their handiwork and upload them for the chance of winning a t-shirt.

Of course, it's not the same since they started making all these ultra-specialized shapes of blocks (the rot set in when they released the first oneXone block, I tell ye), but what engineer's heart does not soar at the sight of this much Lego?

Click on the image above for our own photo-gallery.

Oh, you can have me for a song, corporate America! As long as the song goes: "Oh I wish I were an Oscar Mayer Weeeeeeener…"

Yes, I did get to ride in the Oscar Mayer Weinermobile (TM) along with two towheaded imps named Dan and Suzanne, Hotdoggers, as it were, the official job title of those lucky enough to secure the year-long gig driving the giant frank across the U.S. The 'mobile and crew are back in Austin (after a recent visit to UT a few weeks ago) for the Star of Texas Rodeo. They'll be out at the Travis County Expo Center through the weekend.

And let me tell you, I was so overcome with weinie joy, I resisted all urges to make jokes about the recent repeal of a certain section of the Texas Penal Code. Heh heh, 'penal'.

Inappropriate humor aside, I must say, the inside of that mother is tricked out. Plush, bright yellow captain's chairs, and hot dogs everywhere (but no edible ones: Health Dept., and all). Click on the gallery link above the photos to see for yourself.

This was our trek:

Sure, you could blame it on Southerners, but it's a dish that is as beloved and renowned up North as well as on the West Coast. And the best in this town for my money, is just a stumble from all the racket on Sixth Street and the Austin Convention Center: Tony's Southern Comfort on E. Sixth.

Tony's, owned and run by chef Tony Herring, is a totally local comfort food palace that is holding steady despite our city's best efforts to squeeze out li'l homegrown places like this with looming catacombs of ground floor retail and California-priced condofication.

Just a few blocks east of the highway, Tony's is a delicious respite from precious chain coffee houses and the downtown crowds. In fact, there are a number of great eateries along the E. Sixth, E. Fifth, and E. Seventh corridor, close to the highway worthy of your attention, appetite, and love. (Progress Coffee, Cisco's Restaurant Bakery & Bar, Rio Rita, Nuevo Leon, and Cafe Mundi come to mind.) And some of them will have later hours throughout the conference. Tony's, for example will extend night hours for SXSW: next Mon.-Wed. until 9pm and until 11pm through Saturday. And if you're still here Sunday, catch brunch 11am-4pm.

It’s day one of SXSW. You’d think that a coffee house located near the conference site would be open bright and early Saturday morning, but you would be wrong. That will teach me to over sleep. I resorted to the much too crowded competitor down the street, a vendor I ordinarily avoid but I was caffeine deprived. Those poor baristas were getting slammed, but managed to brew, froth, steam, and pour with a merry smile that verged on crazed (not really. I just don't understand morning merriness without caffeine). The only saving grace of that very long wait was listening to the string of designer orders. Can you believe someone ordered his drink “extra hot?”